The Sheikh’s Secret Heir (Sheikhs and Sweethearts #3)

20. Tara

CHAPTER 20

TARA

I sit on the edge of my bed, the silence of the apartment the loudest thing I’ve heard in a long time. My clothes still carry the scent of Faiz — musky cologne mingled with a hint of citrus from his skin. It’s a cruel reminder of how quickly warmth can turn to coldness. We were close, so close, and now it’s all in the past. I don’t even know if our contract for me to provide him and Ali medical services still stands.

Closing my eyes, I feel the sting of tears threatening to spill. Is it possible to miss someone so fiercely when you’ve only just left their side? But it’s not just his absence that makes my chest ache; it’s the realization that he could be so incensed by my opinions — that sharing a part of myself could push him away.

A bitter taste coats my mouth. Maybe this is a sign that we’re not meant to be, despite the pull I feel toward him.

I rise, a sense of urgency pushing me toward the bathroom. There’s a need to wash away the night, to let the water cleanse the doubts and the longing. Undressing, I step into the shower, embracing the steam wrapping around me, but it doesn’t penetrate the chill that’s settled in my bones.

After dressing in a professional blazer and skirt, I leave the refuge of my apartment for the main palace. The drive is mechanical, my mind elsewhere, on a little boy with imagination and questions that hold more innocence than I can bear.

Ali. My heart clenches at the thought of him, so unaware of the complexities that shadow his existence.

Will I see him again? Or will Faiz end my contract to provide them medical care?

Perhaps that would be for the best, though… even if it would break my heart.

Pulling into the palace grounds, the extent of what I’m leaving behind battles with the anxiety of what lies ahead. I need to escape my pain, yet even as I step through the front doors, Faiz’s face haunts me — an image imprinted in my brain, his eyes dark with walls that can’t be broken down.

I miss Ali, and it’s more than just missing his presence. It’s missing what he represents — a simplicity and purity of connection that seems so elusive in the adult world. And anger burns within me too, an ember glowing hot against the chambers of my heart. Anger at Faiz for pushing me away when all I did was care, perhaps too much, for his hidden son.

I stride through the wide halls of the palace, doing my best to hold my head high and act like it’s just another day and I’m not falling apart on the inside. In the small clinic adjacent to my office, I busy myself with reviewing medical inventory, adjusting schedules, and cross-referencing health records — tasks usually left for quieter days. But today, they are my lifeline, keeping my thoughts from straying to places lined with regret.

There’s not enough work for even a full day, though. I find myself longing for another distraction, something meaningful to pour my restless energy into. Before I can second-guess the impulse, I’m knocking on the door to the head of staff’s office, my mind crafting plans faster than my heart can keep up.

“Ah, Tara,” Mr. Abbas greets me, his face a map of surprise as he gestures for me to enter. “What brings you by?”

“Mr. Abbas, I was thinking… about the medical benefits we provide. Is there room in the budget to extend full care to all staff? It’s… important to me.”

He steeples his fingers, considering, and I can see the cogs turning behind his thoughtful gaze. “I’ll have to review the figures, but it should be possible. And, of course, the sheikh must approve it, but as long as we have the budget for it, I am sure he will say yes.” He smiles. “A noble pursuit, Dr. Hague.”

Nodding, I let out a breath, though it doesn’t make me feel any better. This will keep me occupied, at least. It might not mend a fractured heart, but it’s a start — a way to channel my caring where it’s allowed, where it won’t be rejected.

“Thank you.” I nod at him. “I appreciate it.”

Leaving his office, I take the long way back to my own. Thoughts of Ali and Faiz still haunt me, but at least I have something else to focus on. If my own life is going to be hell, at least I can help others live better existences.

A soft touch on my shoulder startles me, and I turn to find the sheikha standing behind me in the hallway. I didn’t even hear her come up behind me, I was that lost in my own thoughts.

“Tara, did you not hear me say your name?” she asks.

“I…” My mouth drops open. “No. I’m sorry. I was… thinking.”

“Is everything well, my dear?” Her voice is gentle, the concern genuine, and it takes everything in me not to unravel before her.

I muster a smile, one I hope reaches my eyes. “Yes, Sheikha, everything is fine. Just a lot on my mind with work.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but some truths are too heavy to lay at another’s feet. Especially ones that I promised I would never reveal to another soul.

She studies me for a moment longer, then nods, though I can tell she isn’t entirely convinced. I watch her glide away, wishing that I had been born to a mother like her — one who is always ready to listen, one who is eager to see me for who I truly am — and the urge to share my burden with her grows stronger. But the secret of Ali is not mine to tell.

Back in the solitude of the clinic, I allow myself a moment to breathe — to feel the ache for Faiz and the life we could’ve had. I wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t so alone in this sprawling palace, surrounded by whispers of what-if .

But wishes are like dandelions in the wind — fleeting, uncertain, and impossible to catch. So, I focus on what I can control: my work, my intentions, my resolve to heal others even when I can’t seem to heal myself.