Chapter Eleven
THEY HAD ARRIVED in Merkeh earlier that morning and it took Hana a little time to adjust to the bustling modern city after the earthy serenity of the desert.
She felt…eager for this visit. The connection she felt with Malik was simmering beneath her skin, making her feel almost giddy with excitement.
She looked across the top-floor boardroom of the skyscraper that was the jewel of Merkeh and a very precious part of Al Surrahin’s impressive economy, to where Malik stood, now dressed in a business suit that somehow made him look even more incredible than he had just yesterday in much more relaxed attire.
She was struck by the duality of him. Of how he would change to be whatever Al Surrahin needed, yet still she worried that perhaps what he needed got buried beneath duty.
She had seen, whenever they were in public, the layers of sand that smothered the easier, lighter Malik she had known on the island.
And then she wondered if she were the same.
She looked at the beautiful dress that Fatima had provided her with.
The silk kaftan had a matching cape that covered her arms and fell elegantly away to the floor.
Intricate beading and hand-sewn details were worked into both fabrics and Hana felt both beautiful and sophisticated, yet utterly unfamiliar with herself in such a garment.
Councillor Ettenu was showing Malik the plans for another skyscraper that would soon be going into development, having successfully secured global investment.
All the men were gathered around a scaled model of the building, while a screen depicted a video showing how it would fit into the landscape and the community.
Hana had smiled and nodded, but had become deeply aware that no one intended to speak to her or ask her opinion.
Certainly not as to whether she thought there were enough communal spaces or play areas for the local community—which there weren’t.
But instead of offering her clearly unwelcome thoughts, she allowed herself to be drawn to the impressive view offered by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the urban vista as fascinating to her as the desert surrounding the Summer Palace.
It wasn’t that Omrhain had neither desert nor city.
It was that she had rarely gotten to see it.
And here, everything seemed new and exciting.
Maybe she could find some projects that she could work on here.
Her family had always been too worried about letting her have something like that, in case it all went horribly wrong.
But Malik? She thought that Malik might actually believe that she could.
She felt the thread that tied her attention to Malik gently tugging her back to him.
‘Your Highness?’
Hana smiled as Ettenu’s wife approached her, her hands entwined with those of their oldest child, Umar, eleven, and their daughter, Faiza, five.
‘We are so happy that you could come,’ Hiba said.
Hana shook her head. ‘Thank you for having us, and thank you for accommodating the changes to the schedule. I’m afraid I underestimated how much the visits would need.’
‘No, please, as long as you are feeling better now,’ Hiba replied generously.
‘Much,’ Hana replied, casting another look at where Malik stood impressing everyone with his commanding presence.
‘I remember the honeymoon phase,’ Hiba confided. ‘Very well, and look what happened because of it,’ she whispered, nodding her head to her son, utterly oblivious to the nature of the women’s conversation.
‘Your children are adorable,’ Hana said with a smile.
‘Thank you. I’ve decided to keep them,’ Hiba joked.
Umar rolled his eyes, having caught that part of the conversation, but clearly his attention was with his father and cousin.
‘Go on, but don’t get in the way, Umar. Your father is working,’ Hiba warned.
Faiza looked up at Hana with huge brown eyes, and after a moment’s consideration, raised her arms to be picked up.
‘Faiza—’ Hiba chided.
‘No, please. It would be my pleasure,’ Hana insisted, reaching down to pick the little girl up and rest her on her hip.
Faiza looked at her and played with the hemline of the embroidered sleeves of her dress.
‘Do you like it?’ Hana asked her.
‘Pretty,’ the little girl said with wide eyes, her little rosebud of a mouth pouting.
‘You have lots of gorgeous clothes, Faiza,’ Hiba said in a tone that was half warning half doting.
‘My favourite dress is pink,’ she confided to Hana as if it were a secret.
‘Pink? Pink? I want a pink dress,’ Hana replied as if she were many years younger than she actually was.
Hiba laughed and a passing staff smiled.
‘Where can I get one?’ Hana asked Faiza.
‘From the dress shop. Mama can show you!’
Hiba sighed, one full of satisfied love, and looked back to Hana with a smile.
‘One day, when you have your hands full of your own children, may all their hurts be as easily solved by a pink dress.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Hana laughed, covering the way her heart pulsed with faint hope.
From the business plaza, they were taken back to the councillor’s residence, where a large lunch had been prepared.
Hana sat with Ettenu’s wife and children, greatly amused by Faiza, who only stopped talking when she had a mouthful of food.
Hiba shot Hana a thankful but rueful look over her daughter’s head.
She felt Malik’s gaze on her through the meal, but whenever she looked for him, he was mid-conversation with Ettenu, and Hana brushed off the edgy concern that began to nip at her thoughts.
In part, because when they finished the meal, Hana realised that she had got through an entire visit without causing offense or damage.
By the time it was ready for her and Malik to leave and make their way to their hotel, she was exhausted. Exhausted but happy and proud.
Perhaps that was why she was silly enough to try to take his hand as they stood for the photographers wanting to record the sheikh’s visit to Merkeh. Thoughtlessly, she’d slipped her hand into his, seeking that moment of relief when she’d made skin-to-skin contact.
But when Malik awkwardly disentangled his hand from hers, and waved for the cameras and the people that had come to bid them farewell, a burst of camera flashes and the feel of a thousand set of eyes on her cut her deep.
It wasn’t just that he’d taken his hand from hers, when it was the only thing that she had clung to all day.
It wasn’t just that everyone had seen, as much as he’d clearly tried to hide it.
She wasn’t wanted.
And as Malik stood right there, right next to her, smiling and waving for the cameras, she had never felt more alone in her life.
He knew he had made a mistake. He knew he had upset her. But when Hana had slipped her hand into his, the words he’d overheard Ettenu’s wife say to Hana earlier that day had rung in his ears.
One day, when you have your hands full of your own children…
I can’t wait.
His jaw clenched so tightly, his teeth ached.
He’d told her. He’d told her that he didn’t want children. Surely she could understand why. He couldn’t take the risk that they would suffer as he’d suffered.
But Hana wanted them. Would be amazing with them.
He could see it as much a part of her as her kindness or her laugh.
She had been great with Aayan, and again with Ettenu’s children.
She’d looked so natural with little Faiza on her hip.
So much so that he’d seen it in his mind’s eye.
Hana with their child, smiling at him with all the love that he couldn’t risk wanting, taking.
You’re wrong, brother. You could.
Not now, Ishmail, he internally yelled at his brother.
They had left the lunch with Ettenu and Hiba and been ushered into a car that would take them to the hotel they were staying in that evening. Now, sitting in the back of the car, the space was filled with things unsaid, the silence almost suffocating.
They hadn’t talked about it since the island.
Malik had pretended to himself that there hadn’t been time.
Hadn’t been time to sit down and explain to Hana what they needed this marriage to be.
Because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her more than he had done already.
And as for what they’d shared at the Summer Palace? He’d been too weak to resist.
Helpless anger and hot frustration burned in his chest until it hurt to breathe.
She was the one who had done this, not him, he argued irrationally.
If she hadn’t deceived him, if she hadn’t then kidnapped him, they’d never have been forced to marry, and he wouldn’t now be the monster who denied her the one thing that would make her happy: children.
Guilt hit so hard and fast, he felt nauseous.
Guilt and something else. Want. It shimmered in the distance; a mirage that looked like a family.
A family you could have, brother.
No. I can’t, Ishmail. Why could you never understand that?
He knew that he needed to calm himself down, that his feelings were getting too busy, too urgent, too chaotic, but something was building in him, pushing him towards some kind of precipice, and no amount of digging his heels in was stopping the brutal forward progression to a point he both wanted and abhorred.
His thoughts were cut off as they arrived at the hotel in the centre of Merkeh.
As the door opened for him, a round of flashes strobed into the back of the car.
He exited and waited beside the open door for Hana, but couldn’t bring himself to hold out his hand for her to take.
As if ever since he had put that physical space between them, he couldn’t bring himself to close it.
Even if he had, he wasn’t sure that she’d have taken it.
Her smile for the cameras was forced, though no one else would have noticed, and a small, deeply buried part of him turned away in shame that he had done that to her.