Ummmmmm... “Sure,” I shrugged.
I rose from the bed and headed into the bathroom. He followed, on my heels. Once there, he watched me intently as I removed my blouse. He peeled off his shirt, leaving his chest bare, revealing his wiry upper torso, the one I could never tire from ogling. He stared at my upper body attentively, but his gaze never met my eyes; just kept fixated on my body. If his eyes read sensualism I'd understand at least what was going on in his head. But this—this—focus was something entirely different.
“Are you okay?” I softly asked before going any further.
I looked him square in his face. His eyes never met mine. He jerked his chin in the air telling me to continue. I didn’t know what else to do so I complied.
I unzipped my cropped jeans and pulled them down. I next unhooked my bra. Azmir maintained his fixated gape. I let the bra fall to the floor. Next, I went for my underwear. They weren't my usual low cut cheekies, thongs or boy shorts. They were high briefs that I normally wouldn't wear. As I rose up from pulling them down, Azmir turned at a 180-degree angle and let out the most frightening bellow that I'd ever heard from him.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
His hands squeezed into fists as he buckled into the vanity.
I jumped, “What is it? What's wrong?”
I was met with silence for a few seconds.
“What happened to the baby?”
He was now turned facing the mirror as if it was painful to look at me. All the muscles in his back and arms flexed at a striking semblance of strain.
I was frozen.
“You couldn't fucking tell me, Rayna? Goddamit!” Azmir spewed.
I took a deep swallow trying to maintain my placid expression. I didn't know how long I'd be able to without breaking down.
“Azmir, what are you talking about?” My voice was barely audible, but my body began to tremble.
He remained with his back facing me. I grew uncomfortable standing in the middle of this bathroom ass naked.
He dropped his head between his shoulders and found the fortitude from deep within to continue, this time in a calm tone, “Your line...from your naval to your pubic hairs, Rayna...you were pregnant. What happened to the baby...” He paused before saying, “...our baby?” His words were labored through his distressed breathing.
My body tremors intensified.
Holy shit! How does he know?
The events of the past few weeks were too much of an emotional ride for me and the tears began to stream down my face as I asked, “H-how did you know about the pregnancy?” barely above a whisper.
With an exasperated pitch and absolute proclamation he informed, “Rayna, I am your lover. You think I don't know your cycle? You don't know that I am so in tune with your body that I know that you are easily aroused and in heat the two days before your period begins and that you have debilitating cramps the first day you start to bleed? That on the last two days, you have mild head and backaches? That you fuck like a champ the first five days after your last spotting? That the days following are your most pleasant in terms of your disposition?”
He finally turned to me in search of an answer. His scowl was new to me. Where was the loving, compassionate and placid Azmir?
How does this man know so much that I've never told him? I don't think that I could quite articulate my cycle the way that he’d accurately expressed.
He must have read my mind because he answered, “I fucking depend on your body to tell me things that your mouth won't.”