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I get the subtext. More about the plot to dethrone him.
“But he met mom and fell head over heels. He proposed two days later; they were married within a month. When she died, I honestly thought I’d lose him too. He was so broken, Zahir. The only way I could bring him back to life again was to talk about her. I talked about her constantly, telling him the story of how they met, of their wedding, the day I was born – all the stories they’d told me when I was small.” My smile is wistful. “It’s a shame you had to marry me instead of being allowed to fall in love.”
“I told you, I have no interest in love.”
“One day, you might regret that.”
“I doubt it. You studied marketing at college?”
The lightning fast conversation change hurts my brain. I take a second to digest it, then nod.
“Why marketing?”
“I knew I’d be able to get a job when I graduated.”
“So pragmatic.”
“We don’t all have the luxury of being born into this kind of wealth,” I say, gesturing around the tent. “I needed to study in a field with good career prospects.”
“What would you have done if you could have studied anything – practical or not?”
“Actually, that would be history.” I’m more than a little jealous of what he described. “I’ve always been drawn to the ancient world. The stories my dad would tell me – myths and legends of Qabadi men and women through the ages, the ancient temples in the south, the caves in the mountain ranges…” I look wistfully towards the door. “But I couldn’t see how that would lead to work and we needed money, so I studied marketing and fast-tracked my course.”
“Why?”
“So I could finish quicker.”
“I meant, why did you need the money?”
“I thought you knew everything about me?” I can’t help the sassy rejoinder.
He leans forward, bringing his face tantalisingly close to mine. “No, Amy. Definitely not.”
Why does that simple statement make my pulse race?
I clear my throat but my voice still emerges as a hoarse whisper. “My mom was sick a long time. We had lots of hospital bills. I had a part-time job through school, but we never seemed able to make inroads.”
“Your father worked?”
“Low paying jobs, despite his education.” I bristle. “He didn’t speak much English, and found it hard to get employment. He’s not great with technology, so that rules out a lot of occupations. We got by, but that’s about it.”
Zahir’s eyes glitter as they meet mine.
“He used to talk about the wealth he had in Qabid. Wealth that’s still tied up here.”
“Because of me,” he finishes my thought.
I lower my eyes so he doesn’t see the accusation there.
“Starving your father of resources was one way to ensure he didn’t cause more trouble.” Something shifts across his face, a look I don’t quite understand. “I had no intention of you experiencing the ramifications of that.”
“You couldn’t have known my mom would require such a lengthy hospitalisation, nor that we’d be crippled with sky-high bills ‘til kingdom come.”
“Is your debt paid now?”
I bite down on my lower lip, thinking of the stress of that, the angst I’ve felt at needing to clear the ledger. “No.”
“You will be able to remedy this with your wedding settlement.”
