Page 9 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

I follow him out the door and into the hallway, the sound of cartoons behind us. “I can order the prescription and have it delivered here,” I say.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I can nearly feel his defenses coming back up.

“Thank you,” he repeats, voice low and softer this time… like he actually means it.

“You’re welcome. Although… it is my job.”

He shakes his head. “Your contract is with my parents. Not with me.”

“It extends to you,” I point out, wondering not for the first time why he chooses not to take advantage of my available services. Or, rather, why he hasn’t until today.

“Also.” He clears his throat. “Thank you for keeping this… confidential.”

I nod, professional courtesy warring with a burgeoning need to reach beyond the doctor-patient dynamic. “I’d like to keep monitoring him over the next couple of weeks,” I say, watching his face closely. “Regular checks will ensure he’s recovering properly.”

Faiz’s stance shifts, discomfort etched into the set of his jaw. The request seems to corner him, but after a suspended moment, he relents. “All right,” he agrees, though the word smacks of reluctance. “You can come back.”

My alarm bells go off. Something very strange is going on here, and I’m glad for the excuse to return to check on the boy. It’s not that Faiz comes across as a bad person. It’s that there are too many question marks hanging around the situation, and it’s my duty as a medical professional to make sure my patients are well cared for.

“Tomorrow,” I confirm. “I’ll come back tomorrow. For now, I’ll go say goodbye to him.”

Faiz’s eyebrows rise in alarm, but I don’t hesitate. I’m already heading back into the bedroom.

The boy’s face brightens at the sight of me. His smile fills the whole room, despite his illness, and suddenly I want to know everything about him.

“What’s your name?” I ask, kneeling down to his eye level.

“Th–that’s not important,” Faiz interjects from behind me, and if I was suspicious before, now I’m positive something odd is going on here.

“Ali,” the boy responds with pride. He blinks at me, studying my face, and I can sense how intelligent he is.

“Nice to meet you, Ali,” I say, giving him a gentle smile. “You rest well, okay? We’ll see each other again soon.”

“Okay.” He coughs. “I will.”

I head out of the room, Faiz hot on my heels, prepared for him to dress me down for asking the boy’s name. What was I supposed to do, though? Treat him like a wild animal? He’s my patient now, and that means that his well-being is my concern.

Once we’re a safe distance from Ali’s room, I speak up. “I didn’t know you had a child living here.”

His footsteps behind me stop, and I turn around to find his lips pulled thin. “You signed a non-disclosure agreement,” he reminds me.

“Of course.” I nod once, waiting for him to make the next play.

He doesn’t answer immediately, the silence stretching between us as heavy as the secrets he is desperate to keep. The house seems to hold its breath, echoing the tense hush that envelops us. His gaze, sharp and guarded, pierces me as he watches my reaction.

“Ali is… special,” Faiz finally murmurs, breaking the silence. His voice is barely audible, like an unspoken prayer whispered in a sacred temple. A soft sigh escapes him, as if he’s torn between divulging his secrets and maintaining the fortress he’s carefully built around himself over the years.

“Special… how?” I ask, my curiosity overtaking my professional demeanor.

He hesitates, his gaze holding mine hostage. His eyes hold a world of torment, a constellation of emotions swimming beneath their surface — fear, uncertainty, longing… love? It’s raw and vulnerable, a side of him I’ve never seen.

I hold my breath, aware that we’re at a new point, on the precipice of something wild and perhaps scary. He’s cracked the door, let me into his world a little bit. If only he opens it a few more inches…

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says dismissively. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That’s that. He walks me to the door, where we make arrangements for a good time for me to come by, and then I’m unceremoniously ushered onto the front stoop.

The palace doors close behind me with a quick smack, sealing away the quiet mystery that is Ali. Sunlight glares off the limestone path, forcing my gaze down as I walk, the gravel crunching underfoot like a timer counting down the seconds until I’m here again.

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