Page 49 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

Somehow. Some way.

CHAPTER 26

TARA

The 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 worldfade 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.

---