Epilogue 2
Finally, the day has come.
About a month ago, I confirmed Adil’s death sentence. When the judge asked me if I would grant him pardon and convert the penalty to life imprisonment, I said no.
According to the laws of Sintarah, it is up to the Sheikh, and solely him, to make that decision.
Now, minutes before the prisoner bids farewell to this world, I asked to be alone with him.
“What do you want?” he asks as I enter his cell.
Staring at him makes me hate him even more, not just for what he did to me but because I loved him and trusted him my whole life.
“I came to say that from your death onwards, I will never think of you again, not even to hate you as I do now. You will cease to exist not only on Earth but also in my heart.” It’s the first time I’ve visited him since the day he was arrested and confessed everything to us.
“Kamal, there was so much resentment inside me. I didn’t know how to love you.”
“But I did, Adil. I loved you and honored our friendship, and if it had only been against me that you had plotted, I could have commuted your sentence to life imprisonment. But you tried to kill my son and my wife, and for that, there’s no room for forgiveness in my heart.”
I leave the room without looking back.
Thirty minutes later, the sentence is carried out.
I didn’t wait for the crucifixion. I’ve already fulfilled my promise to protect my family above all else.
My duty here is done.
Years later
I watch my mother’s smile as she chats with her nieces and nephews at the welcome party she organized for her relatives. After years of searching, she found the three children of her most beloved sister, Estrella de León. Unfortunately, my aunt had already passed away.
My sisters are ecstatic about having more cousins to add to the family.
Amos and Amber live in Boston and New Orleans, respectively; Elodie, our newly discovered cousin Amber’s twin, lives in Italy.
“It’s incredible how all of them have such different eyes,” Madeline says next to me. “Akilah, no more sweets!” she exclaims, interrupting our conversation and raising her hands to the sky while scolding our youngest.
I smile. Madeline has adopted many of Sintarah’s customs, including this one just now.
I think she doesn’t even realize how much more communicative she has become when expressing her opinions.
She has also managed to learn several phrases of our language, which would be challenging even for someone without dyslexia. Her effort fills me with pride.
“She won’t sleep tonight,” I say, as our little girl seems to carry all our family’s energy in one tiny body. With sugar in the equation, the night will be long.
“Ah, yes, she will, because I have plans for the two of us.”
The tone in which she speaks immediately piques my interest. “What kind of plans?”
“Just one clue: wedding anniversary.”
“It’s next week.”
“Well, then maybe you’re in luck, my Sheikh, because tonight you’ll have a surprise.”
Later
I’ve never been the type to wait calmly for something.
Surprises, in particular, don’t please me. What can I say? I’m a control freak, which makes me desire to predict everything.
However, now, as I sit in our suite and a typical song from my country begins to play, I smile.
Oh, Madeline, you never cease to surprise me.
“You can’t move until I allow it, my Sheikh.”
“Yes, my princess,” I joke, because we both know there isn’t a submissive bone in my body.
When I see my blonde beauty enter wearing nothing more than a skirt of veils and a bustier, my pulse quickens, desire rising as fiercely as a desert storm.
Feeling the need to calm down, I slowly map her body from head to toe.
“Did you know that each of the scarves represents a chakra? As I release them, a different energy point of the body is revealed,” she says, beginning to move her hips provocatively. “I trained a lot for this performance.”
“It’s going to be the shortest dance in Sintarah’s history, Madeline,” I say, getting up and removing my clothes.
“You can’t spoil my surprise.” She pretends to scold me and lets the first scarf drop, but the sexy smile she gives me says, come and get me.
“I won’t touch you, but can I touch myself?”
She swallows hard.
I step close until our skins almost touch, but not quite. Instead, I start to masturbate slowly.
“Can I tell you that I’ve been dreaming of your mouth sucking me off? Or that I want to grab your hair and push my cock down your throat?”
She bites her lips, her eyes fixed on the movement of my hand. “I think I’ll save the dance for tomorrow,” she says, kneeling in front of me. “I have other plans now.”
“Like what, for example?”
“To drive you crazy, my Sheikh.”
“You’ve been doing that since the first day I saw you, Madeline. I love you, my wife.”