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

26. Tara

CHAPTER 26

TARA

T he airport. I’ve finally made it.

It’s only been hours since I booked this flight, but it seems like years. I packed quickly, and it wasn’t hard. I don’t have much in Zahrania anyway, and I’ve already contacted a packing service to ship me the things that I can’t carry on the plane today. Just like that, in one day, I’ve neatly put away my life in this country.

My fingers tighten around the handle of my suitcase, a shield against the world I’m leaving behind. The murmur of voices swells like a wave as I pass by clusters of travelers, catching fractured sentences heavy with scandal and disbelief.

“Did you hear about the sheikh’s son?” An incredulous whisper from a woman to her companion makes me flinch internally, but I keep moving.

My gaze lands on a nearby newspaper stand, where Faiz’s face stares back at me, regal even in print. The headline screams of a secret son, Ali — the truth we guarded now laid bare for all to see.

A bitter taste climbs up my throat as I wonder who pierced the veil of secrecy. Hamza, with his quiet intensity and ambitious eyes — could he have sought out a private detective? It sounds like something born of his calculated mind, his way of clawing toward power. But no matter how much my brain screams it’s him, I won’t grovel at Faiz’s feet with my theory. Not after the ice in his stare when he accused me, his voice void of the warmth I thought we shared.

As I settle into a chair near my gate, the distance between the palace and this terminal spans more than just miles — it’s already a lifetime away. And yet, despite everything, part of me yearns to return to the moment before the world knew of Ali, to the mirage of intimacy with Faiz that felt so real. But mirages are just tricks of light and longing, and they vanish when touched.

I tug the hoodie closer around my face, the fabric brushing against my cheeks as whispers ripple through the air. A woman’s eyes lock onto mine, recognition flaring within their depths. “Aren’t you the royal doctor? The one from the Al-Rashid family?” Her voice is a bit too eager, jarring in its intrusion.

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I reply, feigning nonchalance.

My pulse quickens, betraying the calm I struggle to project. I slide my sunglasses onto the bridge of my nose, hiding the windows to a soul more vulnerable than I care to admit. Getting up, I grab my suitcase and melt into the sea of travelers, seeking solace in anonymity. I’ll come back right when it’s boarding time; I have a little while yet.

The terminal sprawls before me, a maze of humanity, each person absorbed in their journey. I navigate through the crowd until I find a secluded corner, a haven where shouts of the world fade into a soft hum. I sink into a chair that feels like a life raft in the midst of this chaos.

My fingers fumble with my phone before tapping on the familiar number. It rings, and then…

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Where are you, Tara? We saw the news. Did you know anything about this?”

I close my eyes, suddenly feeling like I might cry. “Yeah, it’s a big scandal,” I say, avoiding that last question.

“Goodness, it is. What a shame.” She clicks her tongue.

“I’m at the airport,” I confess, gazing out at the planes taxiing on the tarmac. “I’m coming home… to New Jersey.”

Silence greets me first, followed by a sigh. “What happened?” she finally asks, her words cautious, tiptoeing around the disappointment I sense brewing like a storm.

“Found a last-minute rental. Going to start fresh. Maybe a family practice,” I add, even as my heart contracts at the simplicity of it all. It will be nothing like what I’m leaving behind.

More silence.

“Tara… does this have anything to do with Faiz’s son?”

“It’s a big scandal, you know,” I mumble. “It’s probably best if I distance myself from it.”

“Certainly,” Mom says, but there’s more there. She wants to know the full story, but she doesn’t want to push, worried that I’ll never reveal anything if she does.

“The glitzy life at the palace wasn’t what it seemed.”

“All right, honey,” Mom says after a pause, and it’s the opposite of what I expected to hear. That’s it? No judgment? No pushing me to call this person or go to that institution, looking for a more prestigious job? “Just be safe, and call us when you land.”

“Will do,” I promise, tears leaking from my eyes. For the first time in years, I’m looking forward to seeing my parents.

We end the call, and I just sit here, alone and aching, but with hope rising in my chest. In the quiet corner of this bustling terminal, I am alone with the truth — the life I built within those gilded walls was an illusion, beautiful but untouchable. And while my heart still clings to the soft smile of a little boy named Ali and the stern gaze of a prince who was never truly mine, I board this plane bound for the reality of a small-town existence, where perhaps the love stories I’ve only read about can finally weave themselves into the fabric of my life.

There’s a good future out there. It won’t fall into my lap, though. I have to go and make it happen.

I scroll through contacts on my phone, names from a past life flickering across the screen. Classmates — or perhaps acquaintances is more accurate — from high school. They’re relics from a time when my biggest worry was acing exams and making curfew.

I tap at the screen, mentally drafting messages to send once my feet touch the familiar soil of New Jersey. It’s time to weave new threads into the fabric of my old world, to stitch together a tapestry of friendships that may have frayed but haven’t unraveled completely. I can almost see myself, sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by faces that have aged along with mine, sharing stories that bridge the gap between now and then.

A flutter of anticipation tickles my chest at the thought of the upcoming reunion. It’s mingled with nerves; I’m not the same girl who left all those years ago. Will they see the changes in me? Will they even be interested in being friends when I spent years keeping them all at arm’s length?

With a sigh, I power off my phone, cutting off potential distractions. My fingers find the earbuds in my bag with practiced ease, and I slip them into place. The first notes of a melancholic melody fill my ears, a private serenade for one. I fold into the airport chair, knees drawn up as a block against the world that buzzes around me.

Memories of Faiz invade my mind with every chord that plays — his reserved demeanor that would unexpectedly give way to warmth, the grumpy facade that couldn’t quite hide his vulnerability. And Ali, with his boundless curiosity and bright smile, a beacon of innocence in a palace that wasn’t what it seemed.

A sharp pang squeezes my heart, and I press my hand against it as if to keep it from crumbling entirely. I’ve fallen for Faiz, a truth as clear and painful as the sparkling tears that threaten to spill over. I miss them both more than I dare admit aloud, their absence a hollow space within me.

I let the music wash over me, a balm for the ache that throbs relentlessly. I wish Faiz and Ali nothing but the best, though I know the path ahead is marred with thorns and shadows. Love isn’t just warmth and light; it’s the searing pain of being split open, of having your insides laid bare. I love Faiz, despite everything that happened between us and what he thinks of me now.

I check the time. The boarding call will be announced soon — a summons back to a life I must reclaim, one far removed from palatial walls and hidden heirs. New Jersey waits with its familiar streets and the chance to start over. But first, I have a plane to catch, and a heartache to nurse at thirty thousand feet.

A few texts come in, all from old coworkers who want the scoop on what happened at the palace. Of course, I’ll never tell. What happened between me and Faiz is my secret alone to live with. To die with, too.

I turn off my phone, not wanting to deal with any more intrusions. I’ll check it when I land in New Jersey. Right now, though, I need the silence.

“Goodbye, Faiz,” I murmur into the empty space beside me, the words barely a breath. “Goodbye, Ali.” My voice doesn’t tremble; it’s resolute, carrying the weight of a decision made, a future altered.

I sit here, waiting for my plane, nursing my broken heart, knowing that even as I move forward, part of me will always linger in the echoes of a royal scandal, in the silent spaces where love once lived.