70

Ziza suddenly blinked awake with a start, just as someone was placing her down on a sofa in a dressing room. It took a while to realise it was hers. A little disoriented, she watched the frantic people around her scampering about as if the devil himself were about to make an appearance or something.

“Wha—what happened?” She tried to sit up, only to be chastised by one medic, while the other gently pushed her back such until she was laying down again.

“Don’t get up. You collapsed and lost consciousness for a while there.” The woman explained whilst elevating Ziza’s now bare feet on a large make up kit box.

“Oh.” Ziza blinked, then followed the instructions the medic issued her when she examined her eyes.

“Alright. Your pupils are not dilating, their responding normally to light. Everything else seems good. Do you still feel dizzy? Nauseous?”

Ziza shook her head. She was just... tired.

“Good,” nodded the female medic, “but we’re still going ahead with prepping the ambulance to take you to the hospital for a check-up.”

She said as she returned her little flashlight and her stethoscope back into her bag. The other medic, a man, pricked her finger to check her blood glucose levels, then signalled to his colleague that it was within the perfect range.

“But—surely there’s no need for that? You said everything seemed fine.”

“It’s standard routine, ma’am. Besides, the key word here is seems. We have to take you to the hospital to make sure it’s something not serious like anaemia, or something interfering with the blood flow to your brain like blood clots.”

“Oh.” Ziza paled, finally grasping how serious the situation could be.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Ziza? Are you sick, you didn’t look too well when you walked off the stage?” Zach asked. Deep concern showed in his eyes as he stood at the foot of her sofa.

“Not that I know of.” She shrugged as best as she could in her position.

“How do you feel now?” He asked.

“I’m fine Zach, you don’t have to worry so much.” Ziza didn’t know if she was reassuring him or herself too. So many things were running through her mind, but the loudest thought of them all was that she could die. She’d heard how cancer in women could be hereditary. This couldn’t be the first time manifestation of cervical cancer, could it?

Memories she hadn’t known until now resurfaced out of the blue. Her mother bent over a bucket more often than not the first times she started getting sick. Or her bruising more easily, like the bruises left by Rafiq’s fingers a few days before on her hip. And he hadn’t even used much strength to leave them there. It would also explain why she was feeling fatigued more often. It took her a little while longer than usual for her to catch her breath after rehearsals.

“Sir, I still think she needs to be taken to the hospital to make sure her condition will not worsen.” Said the medic, breaking Ziza’s rampart thoughts.

It didn’t take long for Zach to consider his response.

“Yes, I agree. I just need to make sure nothing gets out to the media about any of this.” He said before walking away to speak with the guards, Sasha and some of the backstage crew members.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_______________________________________

Ziza lay in bed with an IV needle feeding fluids into her bloodstream.

Inconspicuously leaving the stadium and making it to the private hospital was a piece of cake. When they arrived, they got help almost immediately. A nurse went through the routine checks, took urine and blood samples and sent to the hospital’s in-house lab for analysis. Then she noted her blood pressure and weight.

“I’m going to administer a rehydration fluids to you through IV as a precaution. So far, what we can tell from your, blood pressure and the info provided by the EMTs, you are most likely moderately dehydrated. It’s just water and a bit of salts.” The nurse had explained before leaving her to rest.

Under the doctor’s orders to let her rest, they restricted her visitors from her room whilst the drip fed into her system. Even though she felt exhausted, Ziza couldn’t calm her mind enough for her body to rest or fall asleep.

Trying to not dwell any further on the worst-case scenarios of what could be wrong with her, she gazed out the window of her hospital room. Easily, thoughts of home and missing Rafiq, wishing he could be with her to keep her company occupied her for a while.

She tried to imagine his reaction if he’d found out that she was in the hospital filled her mind instead. Would he slam down his desk phone and order his PA to organise for him the quickest flight to Abu Dhabi? Would he rush to her bedside and envelope her in his arms, like she needed right now?

Shifting to her side to allow for a better view of the city’s busy night streets, she subconsciously let her mind rewind through the insane and hectic night’s events.

Pink should finish her show anytime now, she thought. Ziza should have been there, ready for the press, and to end their tour together, officially. Having a good time—the best time. Instead, she was in this sterile room, stuck and debating on whether or not she had cancer.

Almost three hours later, her IV drip now long gone, Ziza sat up in her bed when a soft knock woke her up. She frowned, trying to remember when exactly she’d fallen asleep without realising it. Then she quickly dismissed her thoughts and watched anxiously as the Internist from earlier on opened her door.

She was a middle-aged, average height with a figure that appeared petite in her lab coat and scrubs. Her glossy, dark hair fell just below her shoulders and bounced with each step. A warm smile lit her features as she entered. Behind her was another person dressed only in scrubs, a man. Unlike her, he was tall and looked like someone who visited the gym occasionally.

“Good evening, your highness. How are you feeling now?” She, Dr Haddad, stopped at Ziza’s bedside.

“Much better, thank you.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear to resist the urge to wring the edge of her thin bed sheet till it crinkled.

“I can see that, which is fantastic. This is my colleague, DR, Waseem, but we’ll talk about him soon.” She opened the flat folder in her hands as Ziza greeted the other doctor. “I think we have tortured you enough with the waiting,” Another warm smile, “so let’s get into it then.”

“The tests results are already out?” Her wide eyes blinked. “I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. The results line up with what I’d suspected while I was running your initial diagnosis.”

“We did a CBC—a Complete Blood Count of your blood cells—because of the symptoms you presented, we were particularly interested in your red blood cell. Those plus your urinalysis results, we came to the firm conclusion that you are anaemic as well as mildly dehydrated.”

It took a moment for those words to sink into her mind. She’d squeezed the fabric of her sheet with her nervous hands while dreading to hear those three horrible words. You have cancer. Instead, dehydration was her problem? Had she heard that right?

“I’m dehydrated?” She frowned.

“And anaemic, yes. This was the cause for your drop in blood pressure and, eventually, led you to collapse. Usually the two accompany each other, there’s no cause for alarm, at least not in your case.” Said Dr Waseem.

“That doesn’t really sound like good news—what did you mean by ‘in my case’.” She asked.

“I think this is where Dr Waseem comes in. He specialises in your medical condition.”

“Your highness,” he bowed his head before he continued, “your CBC tested positive for iron deficiency anaemia. It’s a common cause of anaemia in pregnant women.”

“You’re pregnant, your highness,” He too opened his flat folder, “approximately six weeks. Congratulations.” He grinned.

Pregnant.

You’re pregnant...

Those words repeatedly echoed in her head. She remained sitting on the bed, utterly frozen. It was as if the news had sucked her into a black hole where time froze. At first, for a second, Ziza grew numb. Then emotions ran rampant within her, as if they were all fighting to reach the surface first, completely obliterating her thought process. She did not know whether to cry from happiness or cry from stress. A baby was the greatest God given gift a woman could have, but also, they hadn’t been trying for a baby. Rafiq hadn’t even discussed the baby topic or even expressed any sort of interest in the topic. Not once! Though it didn’t take a genius to guess how he’d react to this news.