Page 52 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

“This way,” I tell Ali. “I think I know where she is.”

We reach the gate just as the final boarding call crackles through the speakers. There she stands, my Tara, poised at the threshold between staying and leaving.

“Tara!” My voice slices through the din of preflight routines, and she turns, her eyes wide with shock — a deer caught in headlights, beautiful and poised for flight.

“Please, just a moment.” The words tumble from my lips, clumsy and urgent.

She hesitates, the pain etched in the taut line of her jaw, the betrayal in her gaze deep enough to drown in. “Ali,” she finally says.

“Hi, Tara!”

“You’re… at the airport.” She smiles, though there’s sadness there.

“We came to find you.”

She bites her lip, her attention turning back to me. “I have nothing left to say, Faiz.”

“Then hear me out — if not for me, then for Ali.” My chest heaves, each breath a plea.

Tara glances at my son, her expression softening just enough to let hope seep through the cracks. She steps aside, nodding to the attendant to let others pass, granting me this sliver of time.

“Thank you,” I breathe, aware that every second she gives is a gift she doesn’t owe. Ali squeezes my hand, his silent strength my saving grace as I stand before the woman I cannot bear to lose.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words feel jagged in my throat, but they carve out the truth I’ve buried for too long. “I love you, Tara. More than pride, more than fear, more than anything that ever kept me from saying it out loud.”

She sucks in a quick breath, surprise flashing in her eyes, but other than that giving nothing away.

I stare into her eyes, willing her to believe, to understand. “I know it wasn’t you who told everyone about Ali. It was Hamza. I— I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. And you were right about…” I glance at Ali. “He deserves the world. The actual world. Please, don’t leave.”

Time halts; the world holds its breath. Her eyes, those pools of warmth, glisten as they fill with a sheen of tears. A moment suspended, fragile as glass.

“Faiz, I love you too.” Her voice trembles, a gentle breeze carrying a promise.

The relief is overwhelming, an avalanche of emotion that nearly brings me to my knees. It’s her next words, though, that truly anchor me to the spot.

“Seeing Ali here, with you… it means everything.”

Ali, standing beside me, reaches out tentatively. And then, as if drawn by a magnet, Tara wraps her arms around both of us. There’s a strength in her embrace that tells me we’re not just three souls colliding, but a family uniting.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she says.

People point and exclaim. Take pictures and jostle each other for a better view. But their intrusion feels distant, negligible. Because right now, in this embrace, I am whole. I am proud.

Proud of Ali, who looks up at me with a smile that could outshine the sun. Proud of Tara, whose love has been a beacon that guided me out of my darkest times. And finally, proud of myselffor breaking free from the chains I thought I had no choice but to wrap around myself.

Let them snap their photos, let them roll their videos. I stand tall amid the chaos, a man reborn in vulnerability and love. This moment will be etched in time, a testament to the life ahead of us — a life no longer shrouded in shadows but bathed in the light of our courage.

CHAPTER 28

TARA

The clamor of the crowd fades as Ahmed’s deft maneuvers whisk us away from the airport. My heart pounds out an erratic rhythm that mirrors the chaos we’ve left behind. But within the confines of the car, there’s a semblance of tranquility — a bubble amid the storm.

“Are you okay?” I ask Ali, catching his wide-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror. His small form is almost lost in the plush leather seat, and he looks shocked.

He nods, but his eyes tell a different story — one of a child thrust into a world too vast and unfathomable. “Is Tara my mother?”

My jaw drops, and all I can do is look at Faiz, who appears to be choking on air. “Um, no,” he finally says. “Your mother…”

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