Noises from downstairs traveled through the thin walls, too loud to let him slip into sleep. Kicking off his boots, he flipped to his side and checked the calendar hanging on the wall by his bed. Four more days until his scheduled leave. Four more days until he saw Nadia again. Four more days, three hours on a crowded bus, and a long restless night, before he could spend two hours in her company. When he took his breaks, he caught the last bus to Damascus on Thursday to arrive at Fatimah’s house late at night and crash on the spare bed in the baby’s room. The few hours he got to see Nadia the next day, before he took the bone-jarring bus trip back, had been pure torture so far. Surrounded by all the family members over a big Friday meal in Mama Subhia’s house, he barely squeezed in a word or two to Nadia. And Marwan hovered, his manners gentle and caring, but his eyes fierce, full of possessive pride. Seeing him by Nadia’s side did things to his mind, distorting the friendship he used to treasure and causing him to spend precious time gritting his teeth, rejecting Marwan’s presence.
