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I wonder if I should refuse. After all, Zahir is my husband and Aliya shouldn’t be interfering. And yet I know her deep affection for his family and, I believe, for me now.
I nod once, as she spins my chair around a little, taking up a make-up brush and dipping it in powder. I don’t like to be fussed over but our conversations holds me captive so I submit to her without complaint.
“Zahir is a man loved by all, trusted by everyone. He was in the military you know, and he received some of its highest honours. He has saved lives himself, his bravery and courage earning him much attention in the media. Attention he brushed off, because it meant nothing to him.”
Pride is unmistakable, filling my heart. I’m not surprised by this description.
“He is beloved and revered, but he is also lonely, your highness.”
Despite multiple requests, Aliya will never use anything but my title.
“He has no experience with relationships, and I fear he is not very good at expressing himself. But when he is with you, he gives more of himself than I ever seen.” She pulls back to admire her handiwork. “You have opened him up.”
When she’s gone, I wonder if that’s true. Perhaps it is. But it’s not enough. Zahir opening up is still so far from what I need of him.
I’m a bundle of nerves, waiting for him to arrive. He sent word that he was coming but gave no indication of timing, and so I wait, impatience slamming through me all day. It’s almost nightfall before I hear the distant drone of a helicopter, then the tell-tale scuttle of guards’ feet in the hallway beyond the penthouse’s door. I brace myself for him to enter and am surprised when instead, there’s a knock.
Frowning, I move to the door, pulling it open without checking who’s there – enough of a security presence is dispersed through the building to know I’m secure.
Zahir stands on the other side, dressed in a dark linen suit, so I stare at him for several seconds before moving backwards and jerking my arm to indicate he should come inside.
Nerves wash over me.
He waits for me to precede him.
“Would you like something to drink?” My voice shakes a little.
“No.” His own does not. It is hard and resolute. In the sumptuous sitting room, he stands, a stark figure, the man who has overtaken my every thought and wish.
“I was unprepared for our last conversation. I did not say what I should have.”
My heart stalls. “You said what you felt,” I say after a beat. “And I’m glad. It’s important that I understand.”
“But you don’t understand. How can you, when I barely do myself?”
I sigh. “Zahir, it’s okay. It’s not like you lied to me. You never pretended this was about me or romance or anything more than a tactical marriage to ensure peace for your kingdom.”
He dips his head in agreement. “Yes. This was a tactical marriage, that’s exactly right. But I hadn’t banked on you being as you are. I hadn’t banked on many things. Nothing about this is what I anticipated.”
I nod slowly. “I know.”
“I miss you.”
I remember the text he sent, when I was in Thakirt.
My eyes squeeze shut, because I miss him too, and if I give into those feelings, if I agree to go back to the palace, I know I’ll just be prolonging the inevitable. More pain. More distance.
“This is such a mess.”
“And you miss me,” he continues as though I haven’t spoken.
“What’s your point?”
“I didn’t understand. I have been clinging to the vision I had of our marriage this whole time, sticking to the terms we agreed to, reassuring myself that we have a contract and therefore this is simple and uncomplicated. I didn’t realise how much everything altered. I didn’t realise until you left, and my life – which should have been just like before – seemed utterly, overwhelmingly empty.” He moves closer but stops short of touching me. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to lie in our bed without you?”
The question runs through me, a dangerous river of temptation because there is so much I could read into his words if I were stupid enough to do so.
“I thought I would hate you. You are a Hassan, but you aren’t. And even if you were,” he lifts a finger to my lips and presses it to silence me. “Even if you had known of your father’s guilt, I’m not sure anything would have stopped this from happening.”
