As she placed a hand on her belly, trying to sense the life inside, she felt an unexpected rush of sorrow, as fresh as it had been years ago. Laila. Poor Laila. How wretchedly unlucky she had been. She had prayed for a boy because she had learned all too well how wretched a woman’s life could be. Amira, too, hoped for a boy—because she knew that every man wanted a son—but all that was really expected of her was to deliver a healthy child. And until that day came, she would take good care of herself and fill the hours as she chose.

She chose to immerse herself in studies.

Inspired by her conversation with Philippe Rochon—and the glimmer of hope he’d given that her life might somehow reach beyond the production of children—she added a course in basic psychology to her correspondence curriculum from Cairo University. Her textbooks were like an “Open Sesame” to a world she’d never imagined, showing her the pathways to the human brain, explaining how humans responded to stimulation.

As she studied Freud’s teachings on dreams, she half expected to find some- thing like the elaborate, rather baroque interpretations she’d heard growing up. But to her surprise, the analyst seemed to believe that almost every sleeping image—and many waking thoughts—related to sex. Was he right? she wondered. She had never thought of herself as overly interested in sex. Yet it seemed that these days, every time she opened the psychology text, she thought of Philippe, remembered the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d kissed her hand.

And even as she daydreamed about another man, she was very much aware that Ali’s sexual demands—erratic at best—had stopped altogether. He didn’t want to hurt the baby, he said, though the doctor said there was no risk until her last month. She didn’t miss the kind of sex she and Ali had shared, but she did miss the warmth of being held and petted. She tried to content herself with daily lanolin massages, which Zeinab had recommended to prevent stretch marks.

Yet even as he distanced himself physically, Ali pampered Amira in every- thing else. To encourage her in her studies, he had her bedroom fitted out with bookcases, a handsome desk, and a chair that was custom-made to support her back. He installed a midwife in the palace, and had a London specialist flown in every two weeks. “You must have the best of everything,” he said. “Anything you need, Amira, anything at all, just ask.”