Page 50 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

We end the call, and I just sit here, alone and aching, but with hope rising in my chest. In the quiet corner of this bustling terminal, I am alone with the truth — the life I built within those gilded walls was an illusion, beautiful but untouchable. And while my heart still clings to the soft smile of a little boy named Ali and the stern gaze of a prince who was never truly mine, I board this plane bound for the reality of a small-town existence, where perhaps the love stories I’ve only read about can finally weave themselves into the fabric of my life.

There’s a good future out there. It won’t fall into my lap, though. I have to go and make it happen.

I scroll through contacts on my phone, names from a past life flickering across the screen. Classmates — or perhaps acquaintances is more accurate — from high school. They’re relics from a time when my biggest worry was acing exams and making curfew.

I tap at the screen, mentally drafting messages to send once my feet touch the familiar soil of New Jersey. It’s time to weave new threads into the fabric of my old world, to stitch togethera tapestry of friendships that may have frayed but haven’t unraveled completely. I can almost see myself, sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by faces that have aged along with mine, sharing stories that bridge the gap between now and then.

A flutter of anticipation tickles my chest at the thought of the upcoming reunion. It’s mingled with nerves; I’m not the same girl who left all those years ago. Will they see the changes in me? Will they even be interested in being friends when I spent years keeping them all at arm’s length?

With a sigh, I power off my phone, cutting off potential distractions. My fingers find the earbuds in my bag with practiced ease, and I slip them into place. The first notes of a melancholic melody fill my ears, a private serenade for one. I fold into the airport chair, knees drawn up as a block against the world that buzzes around me.

Memories of Faiz invade my mind with every chord that plays — his reserved demeanor that would unexpectedly give way to warmth, the grumpy façade that couldn’t quite hide his vulnerability. And Ali, with his boundless curiosity and bright smile, a beacon of innocence in a palace that wasn’t what it seemed.

A sharp pang squeezes my heart, and I press my hand against it as if to keep it from crumbling entirely. I’ve fallen for Faiz, a truth as clear and painful as the sparkling tears that threaten to spill over. I miss them both more than I dare admit aloud, their absence a hollow space within me.

I let the music wash over me, a balm for the ache that throbs relentlessly. I wish Faiz and Ali nothing but the best, though I know the path ahead is marred with thorns and shadows. Love isn’t just warmth and light; it’s the searing pain of beingsplit open, of having your insides laid bare. I love Faiz, despite everything that happened between us and what he thinks of me now.

I check the time. The boarding call will be announced soon — a summons back to a life I must reclaim, one far removed from palatial walls and hidden heirs. New Jersey waits with its familiar streets and the chance to start over. But first, I have a plane to catch, and a heartache to nurse at thirty thousand feet.

A few texts come in, all from old coworkers who want the scoop on what happened at the palace. Of course, I’ll never tell. What happened between me and Faiz is my secret alone to live with. To die with, too.

I turn off my phone, not wanting to deal with any more intrusions. I’ll check it when I land in New Jersey. Right now, though, I need the silence.

“Goodbye, Faiz,” I murmur into the empty space beside me, the words barely a breath. “Goodbye, Ali.” My voice doesn’t tremble; it’s resolute, carrying the weight of a decision made, a future altered.

I sit here, waiting for my plane, nursing my broken heart, knowing that even as I move forward, part of me will always linger in the echoes of a royal scandal, in the silent spaces where love once lived.

CHAPTER 27

FAIZ

My heart hammers against my ribs, faster than the frantic pace of my steps as I race through the palace halls. I fumble with my phone, hitting the contact for Tara, but it doesn’t even ring. Instead, her voicemail greeting stabs at me with its impersonal tone.

“Tara,” I say, “It’s Faiz. Please, call me back. I’m sorry… about everything. I need to talk to you.”

My parents don’t know exactly when Tara is leaving, which means I don’t know how much time I have. All I know is that I need to get to her before she walks out of my life forever.

I take the stairs two at a time, my thoughts racing. What if she doesn’t listen? What if I’ve ruined everything with my fear? What if all the apologies in the world won’t make her stay?

I find Ali in his room, surrounded by his toys and books — a kingdom far too small for a boy with dreams as big as his. His eyes light up when he sees me, like I’m his hero, not the person who’s kept him hidden away.

“Ali,” I say, kneeling down so I’m eye to eye with him. “Tara, she… is going away for a while, but I want to ask her to stay.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Okay. I will be here. See you.”

“I was thinking… would you like to come with me to find her?”

His eyebrows shoot nearly to his hairline. “I can come too?” he shrieks.

“Yes.” My throat tightens around the word, thick with emotions I usually keep locked away. “Would you like that?”

He nods, excitement sparkling in his wide eyes. “Yes, Baba! Let’s go get Tara!”

We’re in this together, my son and I, ready to face whatever comes next — even if it’s rejection. With Ali’s hand in mine, we leave behind the safety of our gilded cage, stepping into the unknown. And for the first time in a long time, I feel alive with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, we can be a family out there in the real world.

I tell Ahmed the plan, and we climb into the car in the garage, the tinted windows ready to shield us from the journalists’ eyes. Ali bounces in his seat next to me, and I try Tara again.

Again, it goes straight to voicemail.

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