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Qazim felt relieved that there had been nothing serious happening with his son.
Grace squinted at Qazim. He saw her considering her next words. She smiled warmly, but didn't say anything. He felt the tension rise inside himself. He still held onto the edge of the door. He felt like there was a threshold he dare not cross. Not until he'd obtained Grace's consent.
Grace gazed at Zarif, still lost in thought. She smiled at their son. Grace's expression was one of complete love and devotion. Qazim felt his heart warm at the sight of Grace's obvious happiness.
Then she turned to Qazim. "I saw the room," she said evenly. Her voice was quiet and steady, almost matter-of-fact. There was no hint of disapproval in her voice.
Qazim paused, wondering if she was going to add anything to that statement. "I noticed," he replied.
For a few long moments, Grace's features were blank, completely unexpressive. Then she looked at Qazim.
She smiled. "I think it's beautiful," she declared in a soft voice. "Just perfect for Zarif."
Qazim still hadn't moved from the door, but the sound of her words made him want to stride across the room to her. He held himself back, despite feeling the rising need to be by her side. To be by the side of his wife and son.
"Why don't you close the door?" she said to him, lifting a brow.
Qazim breathed out, feeling the tension lessen. He closed the door softly and walked slowly toward Grace.
As he advanced toward her, Grace watched Qazim. There was a curiosity in her gaze. But she didn't look in any way concerned or worried. The reserve of these past months had completely disappeared. Perhaps what they'd shared back there in his bedroom had changed everything, he told himself.
But, even as he thought that, he knew it wasn't true. Things between Grace and him had changed a long time before tonight. He'd felt it so many times in recent weeks, especially since Zarif's birth. The distance between Grace and Qazim had been disappearing gradually, day by day.
Little by little, with one gesture after another, things had been improving. Their relationship had been growing steadily day by day. Today, down in the garden, Qazim has sensed something different between him and Grace. Something he'd been hoping for since they'd married.
It was something elemental. Primal.
A connection, forged by their union, made real by their beautiful son.
Qazim halted by Grace's side. He extended a hand and teased at Zarif's sleeping form, carefully and tenderly. Zarif didn't stir, his breathing remaining steady. He looked so incredibly peaceful, Qazim told himself. And now, up close, he could hardly believe how handsome his son was.
Zarif would grow up to be a true Qazhar sheikh. His heir, and one which Qazim knew he would always be proud.
Grace watched Qazim closely. He gazed down at her. He saw the way she was looking at him, and knew, instinctively that she was happy he was by her side.
At last.
There was only one thing for him to say to her, now. He'd said it to her before, but now, somehow it seemed different.
Real and true and undeniable.
"I love you, Grace," Qazim murmured.
Grace's features colored slightly. He saw her eyes brighten with emotion.
She lifted a brow, but didn't say anything immediately in response.
Qazim moved closer. Now he was almost touching Grace, but he held back for fear of waking Zarif. There was a long silence in the room. It seemed to stretch forever.
He felt the cool air from the overhead fans brushing against his face. He felt the urgent pounding of his heart as he waited for Grace to say something to him.
Anything.
Grace lifted her chin and smiled up at Qazim. "I love you, Qazim," she said softly.
Qazim felt his heart warm suddenly and emotion swept through him like a tidal wave. It was a torrent of relief and hope.
He lifted his brows and dipped his head closer. "You do?"
