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“What is soft is strong,” she said as his body slumped against hers. Lucy laced her fingers through Anwar's dark mane of hair. "Lions are strong, lions are courageous, lions are powerful. Lions are also loyal—they feel everything deeply—even grief. Especially grief,” she emphasized.
Anwar drew a gulp of air and exhaled, the tension escaping from his chest as his shuddering breath grew quieter.
"This little lion is a symbol of courage, of resilience. Of new life—despite the pain of our pasts,” Lucy said.
“You are right,habibti.Salim is a young man, and he has cherished his faithful companion for years. Simba’s well-loved presence reminds us that even the soft can possess an indomitable spirit. This little lion offers a testament to the enduring power of love, bringing joy and comfort to all who cross his path.”
Anwar pulled the comforter from the crib and draped it over the jeweled falcon. “Very well. Simba will be our son's protector,” he said as he lay the little lion in the crib.
"What is soft is strong," Lucy repeated.
"We will find somewhere else for this magnificent sculpture," Anwar said, resting a hand on the fierce jewel-crusted falcon.
“Love creates love. Love is love. Love feels like this,” she said, drawing him to her chest. Her eyes fell upon a magenta and violet orchid in a gold urn. She walked toward it and lowered her head. ‘It smells divine. I love it. Where did you buy it?”
A wide smile spread across his face. “I grew it.”
“You did?” she said disbelievingly.
“Wow. I’m impressed. It’s so beautiful,” she turned to him. “You poured your heart into it, didn’t you.”
“Yes.”
“I tried to grow orchids once. It’s not easy. What’s your secret?”
“I talk to them. I tell them how special they are. I touch them. . .”
“You shower them with love and affection.”
“Yes,” he said, awareness dawning.
“Children are like flowers,” Lucy said. “They don’t grow in gold-lined tombs studded with diamonds. They thrive on tenderness, kindness, and kisses. Children love caressing touches and whispers from your heart. That is how you show your love.”
“Ok. You win,” Anwar laughed. “Point taken. Second-hand toys and flowers are how I show my love.”
“And this is how I show you love.” Lucy lifted her face to his and placed a kiss on his lips.
“There's just one more thing," she murmured.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Stay in your heart, Lucy affirmed to herself as she prepared to tell Anwar how she would like to raise their child.
“I want my son to be raised by the stars.”
“What are you talking about?” Anwar said.
“By the sun and the planets,” she said, gazing at the full moon. A full moon in Leo. The courageous moon. “We will raise him by astrology.”
“We will raise him as I was brought up,” Anwar said.
“Yes, and look how that worked out,” Lucy said. “Your father deprived you of love and affection because he wanted you to be fierce and unfeeling. Instead, he made you feel unloved and unwanted. I want our child to know what true love is. I want to raise our son to be true to himself.”
“That is a luxury reserved for Westerners and fools,” Anwar said. “My son’s role will be duty, as mine was.”
“Our son will be born to rule as you were. Loving him won’t change that. We need him to be a good ruler. A kind ruler. A benevolent ruler. A ruler with so much confidence and self-esteem that the thought of being cruel has no place in his heart. To do that, we need to break the cycle.”
“What cycle?”
