Chapter 14
One hour later
I have no idea how we made it back to the apartment.
Ever since I got up from the table to go to the restroom, I’ve felt nauseous.
When we first arrived at the restaurant, I was enchanted by everything: the beauty of the place, the food, the kindness of the waiters.
Not that I understood a word they said—unlike the two siblings, I don’t speak French, and their attempts to communicate in English weren’t good enough for me to grasp, since I’m far from fluent myself.
But none of that mattered anymore once Kaled brought up the reason we came to Paris.
Until that moment, I had allowed myself to be carried away by the magic of the evening. It felt like living in a dream, and that dream only got better every time I looked up and found his eyes on me.
But then, the enchantment shattered. Reality came crashing back when the prince started asking questions I’d known would come but dreaded answering.
We drove home in silence, the three of us lost in our own thoughts. Before I could excuse myself to go to bed, Kaled told me we needed to talk.
I glanced at Jazmina, and she gave me a small nod, clearly agreeing with her brother.
I’m not prepared for this. Facing the prince with my friend by my side is one thing. Facing him alone, having to answer the questions I know he’ll ask, is something else entirely.
Before I can say a word, however, one of the housemaids appears to tell me my father called and insisted that I return his call immediately.
I check my watch—only five in the afternoon in Rheadur. Right now, I wish the time difference were greater so I could postpone the inevitable: facing my father.
“Excuse me, Kaled. If you don’t mind, I need to see what my father wants. We can talk afterward.”
On the outside, I appear calm; inside, I’m falling apart.
He knows.
Somehow, my father has figured out that I found out about the engagement, and now he’ll try to bring me back.
With no clue whether the future sheikh will support us or not, I’m terrified, while my mind spins through every possible scenario.
Could I hide here in Paris?
Would leaving tonight be too risky?
How would I get a visa to the United States?
All these questions swirl in my head like a rollercoaster of dread, none of them good.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
One problem at a time: first, find out what my father wants. Then, face the prince.
My hands tremble as I pick up the phone beside the bed and dial my father’s cell number.
“Where have you been?” he demands, his voice dripping with fury.
“Good afternoon, Dad,” I say, mindful of the time in our emirate. “I went to dinner with His Highness, Prince Kaled, and Princess Jazmina.” I’m reminding him who I’m with, hoping it might temper the anger already evident in his tone.
“You need to come back to Rheadur.”
“What?”
“I know what you two did. Your sister told me everything after you left. You overheard my conversation with your fiancé, didn’t you?”
Even though I expected it, a cold sweat runs down my spine. “I don’t have a fiancé. I never agreed to one,” I answer carefully but firmly.
“Oh, yes, you do. If you heard my conversation, then you know you’re already promised.”
Maybe it’s the physical distance between us, but a rage I’ve never felt before starts to burn beneath my skin. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“No, as in I will not marry against my will. You just admitted I heard everything, including the part where you gave my supposed future husband permission to strike me.”
He doesn’t even bother to deny it. “A husband must do what’s necessary to keep a rebellious wife in line.”
“I’m not an animal to be controlled, Father. I may not have experience in relationships, but I can see the difference between how you treat your wives and how the former Sheikh Kamran treats his. He respects them. He sees them as equals.”
“Men and women will never be equals. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. You’ll return home tomorrow, and next week we’ll announce your engagement.”
“No. Not only do I refuse to marry that man, but I’ll never submit to someone who says, before even speaking a single word to me, that ‘there’s no rebellion a good beating can’t fix,’” I say, repeating exactly what I heard that night.
Suddenly, all the hurt I’ve swallowed for years bursts out.
For the first time, I realize that suffering in silence has been poisoning me. Leaving my country was a turning point. Just being away from my father’s toxic presence is allowing me to breathe.
“Don’t be ridiculous. That was just a manner of speaking. It doesn’t mean he’d actually hit you,” he says, but we both know he’s lying.
“Why, Father?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you hate me so much? I know you don’t respect my sisters either, but you can’t stand me—you’ve never even tried to hide it. If you hate me so much, why didn’t you let me go with my mother?”
“I would never give that whore the satisfaction!”
As always, my heart contracts when I hear him speak of my mother like that. But this time, after all these years, the truth finally hits me: he never wanted me. He only kept me to punish her.
“I want you back in Rheadur before nightfall tomorrow,” he says.
“I’m not coming home. Tomorrow or ever again.” I fight back tears; I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing how deeply he’s hurt me. “I’m going to find my mother.” Years of restraint and silence give way like a broken dam.
“You’ll only go after her over my dead body.”
“I will, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Oh, really? We’ll see about that.”
“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” I lie.
“You should be,” he sneers. “Let me warn you, if by some miracle you make it to the United States, which I doubt, you may only find a corpse.”
My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother has terminal cancer. She’s dying, penniless, alone, living in a shack with no one to care for her.
I can make her final days comfortable. If you return home and marry the man I’ve chosen, she’ll be admitted to the best hospital in the United States.
I’ll even allow you to see her one last time so you’ll know I’ve kept my word. ”