Chapter 22
Shehryar
T he angry energy thrumming through me didn’t quite dissipate by the time Mother, Prince Arsh, Mariyah, and I headed to the famous, high-end department store in Central Pavilion after lunch. My planned meeting with Andrew Platmon lingered at the back of my mind, but my ire fluctuated up and down, finding different targets in the hours between.
Him. Prince Arsh. Mariyah.
I hadn’t sought her out to talk to her after emailing my father—the conversation wouldn’t have led anywhere, and I hadn’t wanted to lash out at her unnecessarily again. Though over lunch, she wasn’t cowering away like I’d accused her of, but I knew she wasn’t playing off what happened last night as well as she wanted to. But I planned to sort that out in the evening.
Now, I was being escorted to a private room by the shop assistant of a jewellery brand in the centuries-old department store with Prince Arsh to buy a gift for Mariyah, while Mum and the menace had gone off somewhere else together.
The middle-aged shop assistant, who introduced himself as Vin, stood on the other side of the black glass table as Prince Arsh and I made ourselves comfortable on the curved dark green velvet settee.
“Other than the request to see a collection of bracelets and necklaces, it was not mentioned on the phone what precious metal you wanted them to be,” Vin said, his white-gloved hands clasped before him and a bright grin on his face. “Sheela and I picked out a range of silver, platinum, and gold jewellery. Though, if you or the lady in question has a preference, we can start by showing those collections first.”
Prince Arsh looked to me expectantly. My brows twitched with the urge to frown as to why he thought I would’ve known what Mariyah preferred. But the truth was, I did know.
“She likes silver jewellery,” I answered. Vin nodded and excused himself with a bow.
The silence he left behind was fucking awkward as Prince Arsh took in the decor and I avoided looking at him. Just like it had been the rest of the time.
In the hour-plus we’d already been shopping, Prince Arsh had continuously tried to talk to me, and I had let each conversation die a swift death.
His attempts had started off in high spirits, but by the time we’d bought a shirt or two each and he’d bought Mum some leather gloves as a gift and smart shoes for himself, his usually chatty, cheerful demeanour had quietened down, and his questions had become few and far between.
It was my fault. He was trying to get to know me, and I was unnecessarily being closed off. I felt shit about it, but between the situations with Mariyah and my father, and being pointed at and photographed while Prince Arsh and I walked around like I was a specimen on display, I was extremely uncomfortable and stressed out. Maintaining a neutral expression was becoming a task and a half, and I was pushing away the notion of getting to know my mother’s fiancé as a result.
Really though, it was just a poor excuse for my behaviour. I promised Mum I’d make an effort with Prince Arsh, and I could see how much he wanted me to like him too, but I still felt an uncomfortable pull of resistance around him. I didn’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to just accept him, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. It was my problem, and I was being unfair and immature by being cold to him.
I had to stop, but I didn’t exactly know what to say to him either. So, I just kept quiet.
Prince Arsh cleared his throat. “It’s a shame your grandparents aren’t able to come to the wedding.”
“It is,” I agreed with a politely distant tone. “With their age and the trip they already made, it would have been difficult for them to come on such short notice. But they’re looking forward to the idea of joining through a livestream or Room call, so it’s fine.”
Prince Arsh chuckled lightly. “Yes, I heard from Katiya. She said they’d already downloaded the app Mariyah recommended and were asking when she would tell them the meeting ID and password.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Still, maybe if Katiya and I had decided a bit sooner, we could have let them know when they visited at the end of September and helped them book another ticket then, or just extended their stay until the wedding.”
My lips tightened in a stiff smile. “Hmm. Maybe.”
I could feel the older man’s gaze lingering on me, see his face pointed towards me from the corner of my eye, but I stared down at my lap, brushing off invisible lint from my suit trousers and dark green jumper, feigning not to notice.
Guilt whistled between the rungs of my ribs, and maybe it played tricks on my ears, but I was sure he sighed dejectedly once he eventually looked away. The gnawing feeling expanded like a glutinous ball of dough. I was overly aware of Prince Arsh looking solemnly around the small room.
Within seconds, I became agitated to break the suffocating silence, but there was only one thing I could think of saying.
“Did you know he was emailing her?” The words tumbled out quietly before I could second-guess myself. It wasn’t exactly the right time or place for the conversation.
Prince Arsh was quiet and still for a moment. “Your father? Yes, I did. She told me the first time he emailed her, not knowing what to do or say.”
His answer lit a small flame under my displeasure, and I rubbed my teeth together.
Why hadn’t Mum told me? Why had she confided in him but not me?
I didn’t doubt that it was because of how hot-headed and reckless with my anger I could and would have been, but it still grated to know she hadn’t even tried to loop me in.
Raising my head to look at him, I said, “And what did you say?”
“I told her to do whatever she felt was right for you.” His hazel eyes held on to mine, sure but open and soft. “And I believe that’s what she did. Her decision to reply to him allowed you to stay in power of your choice to contact him or tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
I stared at him, trying to gauge the truth of his words and how it made me feel. “I emailed him,” I heard myself say absently. “I’m meeting him tomorrow.”
Prince Arsh’s expression gave nothing away in his silence. “How do you feel about it?”
I scoffed and glanced ahead, shifting my tight shoulders. “Other than wanting to break his face the moment I see him, nothing.”
“Well, that’s something.” He offered me a slight smile. “And completely reasonable too.”
“But then what?”
The older man shrugged. “Up to you.”
“I don’t think I want to hear what he has to say. It won’t change anything.”
“No, it won’t.”
I narrowed my eyes warily. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me to give him a chance to explain?”
A grin burst across his face. “Is that what you want me to say?”
“No.”
“And I hadn’t planned to.”
I eyed him closely. “Do you still talk to your father?”
Prince Arsh grunted, a flash of bitterness crossing his eyes. “No,” he said like the idea was ridiculous. “I hardly spoke to him when he was still a part of our family, let alone after. The moment Mother divorced him and kicked him out, I cut all ties with him.” He nodded his head to the side. “I know Rami talks to him a few times a year to see how he is, but I frankly couldn’t care less.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.” He adjusted his jacket as he leaned towards me. “But Shehryar, the difference is that I grew up watching my father act like an asshole, and I was a well-informed adult when I chose to break off my relationship with him.” He paused. “You were a child. He didn’t live with you, he abandoned you, and you never got to hear or understand why. You’re an adult now, so you can decide what you want to do. But you might regret it if you make a decision without being well-informed first.”
I took a second to process what he said, and none of it sounded unreasonable or disputable. But I arched my brow questioningly. “So you are telling me to hear him out?”
Prince Arsh let out a surprised chuckle, and my lips curved in a quiet smile. I still felt awkward, but it was a relief to see the playful gleam return to his eyes.
“It’s your choice, Shehryar,” he said with a shrug of one shoulder. “And I’m sure you already know, but your mother will support you no matter what you choose. And if you’re okay with it, I will too.”
My shoulders eased on a slow exhale. “Thank you.”
“Always.”
I felt a touch lighter as the shop assistant returned with two flat and wide glass boxes in his arms, followed by a young girl holding two more.
That was one thing checked off my conscience. The next was dealing with Mariyah.