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Coming out of the kitchen to ask if Ammy needed anything, Rumanah caught sight of him and immediately turned back before she could even reach them. Sultana watched her retreat, whispering to herself, "May Allah protect you for me, my trusted child."
He stood up and headed toward his children's room, where he found them busy with their drawings. Sitting at the edge of Amah's pink bed, he crossed his legs and fixed his gaze upon them. They were entirely used to their father being a man of few words, so his quiet demeanor didn't bother them; his mere presence was enough to fill them with happiness.
It wasn't until the evening that he went to the hospital to thoroughly review Suhailat's medical reports. He returned shortly after the Maghrib prayer, a time when Ammy was already in her bedroom.
He walked straight upstairs, took a shower, and changed into a spotlessly white jallabiya. Letting down his slightly long hair, he made his way downstairs toward Ammy's quarters.
Just as he opened the door, she was opening it from the inside to step out, causing them to collide chest-to-chest. She quickly recoiled, lowering her head in embarrassment. Acting as though he hadn't even noticed what happened, he walked right past her into the room while she swiftly made her escape.
She hurried to her room, stripped off her clothes, and jumped straight into the shower.
After stepping out, she performed her Ishai prayer, sprayed on some perfume, and put on a matching set of white silk pajamas. She was in the middle of tying up her hair when Carolina walked in to inform her that the Sultana was calling for her.
Setting her hair ties down, she threw on a loose, front-closing long gown over her pajamas, pulled the hood over her head, and walked out.
She found Ammy sitting at the edge of the bed, already dressed for sleep. With deep respect, Rumanah said:
"I am here, Ammy."
"Good, Rumanah. Once you are finished preparing for bed, go upstairs to Maheer's room and spend the night there. Take some apples up to him when you go."
"Alright," she replied with a lowered gaze, turning around to leave.
This unwavering obedience from Rumanah—complying with absolutely whatever she was asked to do—only made Ammy love her all the more.
Instead of going back to her room, she went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and picked out five apples. After arranging them neatly in a glass bowl alongside a small paring knife, she made her way upstairs.
Knowing he likely wouldn't be in the living area, she pushed the lounge door open, walked through, and approached his bedroom door, knocking softly.
After knocking three times to absolute silence, she knew he wouldn't answer, so she turned the handle and stepped inside.
He was sitting up, engaged in a phone call with Doctor Edward, who had called to update him on some of Suhailat's newly released test results.
She stepped up to him, set the bowl down on the table where his legs were resting, and turned on her heel. Going out to the lounge, she fetched him a cup of water, brought it back, and placed it down. Just then, he concluded his call. He reached his hand out, took the cup from her, and drank.
Without breaking his characteristically detached tone, he said, "I have no need for these apples right now. Take them back."
She picked them up and returned them to his lounge fridge. She then retrieved the empty cup and the water bottle, but found herself completely unable to step back into the inner bedroom. She stood frozen at the threshold, paralyzed by the dread of going back inside, yet completely unwilling to violate the Sultana's explicit command, even if it were only a dream.
She stood by the bedroom door for so long that her legs grew weary, forcing her to slide down and sit right against the doorframe. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander through the chaotic trajectory of her life—how it twisted and turned from one extreme to another. She had started out as the child of palace slaves, transitioned into a common maid, shifted into something resembling a forced concubine, and now here she was: emancipated, and legally wed to a Prince. She had absolutely no idea what her tomorrow held in store for her.
At the break of dawn, he woke up, performed his ablutions, and put on a jallabiya along with a small white prayer cap, intending to head to a nearby mosque built by an Arab expatriate.
The moment he swung the door open, he tripped right over her. Before he could stop his momentum from sending him crashing to the floor, he landed squarely on top of her. They locked eyes instantly, a profound sense of shock registering on his face as he stared into her eyes, which were brimming with absolute terror.
He stared down at her, making no effort to get up or utter a single word.
His gaze drifted down to where their chests were pressed tightly against one another. Her rapid, heavy breathing forced their bodies even closer with every gasp.
Tears of excruciating pain began to spill from her eyes because of her pinned arm, yet she lacked the courage to ask him to lift himself off her.
He tracked the path of her tears before locking eyes with her once more. In a deeply resonant, quiet tone, he asked:
"Am I too heavy for you?"
She slowly closed her eyes, gently shaking her head in denial.
Staring into her eyes again, he seemed to read something beneath the surface. He slowly shifted his weight and stood up.
She attempted to push herself up using the floor for leverage, but collapsed back down in agony. She could feel that the bone in her wrist had severely sprained or dislocated during the fall.
He looked down at her arm, instantly realizing that she had been injured, which explained the sudden tears.
He extended his hand to her. Driven by her deeply ingrained habit of obedience, she took it. He pulled her to her feet, and she immediately turned to flee the room, but he caught her by the arm, pulling her back so sharply that she crashed against his chest, causing her hood to slip off.
He spun her around until they were facing each other, his eyes boring into hers. He took hold of her injured wrist, applying a slight squeeze while keeping his gaze locked onto her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the sharp flare of pain.
In a slow, lazy voice, he asked:
"Does it hurt?"
Her body went entirely limp, and she barely managed a weak shake of her head.
Amused by her stubbornness, a faint, mocking smile played at the corner of his lips. He squeezed her wrist tightly once more, only to feel her weight completely give way against his body as her eyes rolled back into her head.
He stood frozen for a moment, realizing that she had literally fainted from the sheer intensity of the pain. Lifting her face to inspect it, he muttered under his breath:
"Unbelievable."
Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her over to the lounge sofa and laid her down gently. He then proceeded to perform his dawn prayers with an entirely unbothered peace of mind. Only after he had fully concluded his prayers did he fetch some cold water from the fridge and sprinkle a few drops onto her face.
She let out a heavy, shuddering sigh, slowly fluttering her eyelids open.
Her gaze landed directly on his face. She blinked, and as awareness returned, a fresh wave of tears began to stream down her cheeks.
He stared down at her, genuinely perplexed by her constant weeping. From all indications, her tears were purely a reaction to the physical pain of her injury—something he had never once witnessed with Suhailat. No matter how brutal or agonizing the circumstances, it was incredibly rare for Suhailat to ever shed a tear. This girl, however, seemed to weep out of pure vulnerability; a minor injury was all it took to send her into floods of tears.
Chapter 20
(Not Edited)
She lifted her head to look at him, desperately trying to rein in her tears. The moment their eyes locked, he stood up abruptly and marched back into his bedroom without saying a single word or casting a glance back over his shoulder.
She looked down at her wrist, which was throbbing with an intense, burning pain. Using her uninjured hand, she wiped away her tears, slowly stood up, pulled her hood back over her head, and walked out the door.
As she made her way downstairs, she found Carolina already in the main lounge, starting on the morning housework since Amah and her sibling had to get ready for school.
Carolina looked up, visibly surprised to see her coming down from the upper floor at such an early hour. However, recognizing that it was none of her business, she simply looked away and continued her work. Rumanah, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of self-consciousness in front of Carolina, couldn't bring herself to strike up a conversation and hurried straight into her own room.
She ducked into her bathroom, struggling through her ablutions due to the agonizing pain in her wrist. After completing her prayers, she walked out and headed to the kitchen, but no matter how hard she tried to force herself to work, the pain made it impossible. She retreated to her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly at her swollen wrist, replaying the exact moment the injury happened.
Closing her eyes, his words echoed clearly in her mind: "Am I too heavy for you?"
Only now did the sheer shock of his words truly sink in. She recalled the solid, powerful frame of his body, quickly snapping her eyes shut out of pure embarrassment at the memory. Suddenly, the rich, soothing scent of his expensive perfume seemed to fill her nostrils. She opened her eyes rapidly, looking around the empty room as her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
Standing up, she walked over to the window, only for another wave of his distinct fragrance to wash over her, settling deep into her heart. She slowly closed her white eyes, opening them a moment later as she walked back to sit on the bed. Yet, try as she might, her nose and mind refused to stop registering his scent. Her heart was in complete turmoil.
Unable to find a single moment of peace, she stood up and walked back to the kitchen with hesitant steps.
Despite her best efforts to occupy herself with kitchen duties, she simply couldn't focus. Her mind was entirely scattered, and her wrist had begun to visibly swell. Oddly enough, she no longer felt the sharp physical pain as intensely as she felt the profound confusion and inner turmoil consuming her entire being.
Carolina watched her closely, noting her obvious distress and the heavy swelling on her hand. Filled with sympathy, she gestured with her hands, advising Rumanah to go back to her room and rest.
Forcing a weak smile, Rumanah opened her mouth to reply, but the sudden ring of the doorbell cut her off. Both she and Carolina snapped their eyes toward the wall clock; it was exactly ten minutes past seven o'clock.
Carolina quickly washed her hands, stepped out of the kitchen, and opened the front door. She returned a moment later holding a white plastic delivery bag. Glancing at Rumanah, she asked her to keep an eye on the chips frying on the stove before heading upstairs.
She knocked gently on his door, but received no response. She waited until she grew tired of knocking, but the door remained firmly shut. Descending the stairs with the bag still in hand, she turned to Rumanah, explaining that it was medication. She wasn't sure if it was urgently needed, but since she was strictly forbidden from entering his private bedroom, she handed the bag to Rumanah. She asked her to take it to the Sultana so she could call the Prince and inform him.
Rumanah stared at the bag in silence. She knew better than to disturb the Sultana while she was sleeping; in fact, it wasn't even close to the hour Ammy usually woke up. Yet, her heart raced with the anxious thought that the Prince might be in urgent need of the medicine.
Taking the bag from Carolina, she walked out to the main lounge toward the Sultana's quarters, but came to a sudden halt. A protective instinct whispered that if he was in pain, he was likely waiting for this exact medication right now.
Turning back around, she headed upstairs, desperately trying to suppress the violent pounding in her chest. Reaching his private lounge, she approached the bedroom door and knocked.
Silence. There was no answer. She knocked a second time, but was met with the same dead silence. Unable to simply walk away, she leaned against the doorframe, her heart racing faster as anxiety gripped her.
Sensing the prolonged silence, she gathered her courage and knocked once more, fully determined. Suddenly, the door swung open so fast she nearly tumbled forward into the room. She quickly corrected her balance, dropping her gaze to the floor, and forced out the words in a tight whisper:
"A delivery was brought for you."
Without casting a single glance in her direction, he took the bag from her hand and muttered a flat:
"Wait."
She froze right where she stood. He opened the bag, pulled out the medication to inspect it, and then extended it back toward her.
Lifting her head, her eyes locked with his piercing gaze, which was fixed intently on her face. She reached out her hand to take it. He stared down at her swollen wrist for a moment, said absolutely nothing else, and quietly shut the door in her face.
The way his eyes had lingered on her injured hand made her realize the true contents of the bag. Looking down at the medical delivery, her expression softened, and for the very first time since the tragic passing of her parents, a genuine smile spread across her face from the bottom of her heart.
She walked back downstairs to her room, set the medicine down on her table, and sat on the bed, her eyes tracing back to the bag every few minutes.
At exactly eight o'clock, Amah and her sibling left for school. An hour after their departure, he descended the stairs, dressed immaculately in a blue-black Balenciaga suit. His long hair was neatly tied back, and the crisp, sophisticated scent of his Annick Goutal perfume completely filled the lounge. He carried nothing but his phone, as he was heading to a high-profile meeting rather than his usual hospital shift; he wouldn't head to the clinic until after the meeting concluded.
She was the only one in the lounge, having just stepped out in a long ash-colored gown to head over to the Sultana's quarters, as it was time for her daily room maintenance.
Lowering her head deeply, she tried to slip silently past him into the Sultana's wing.
Upon entering, she found Ammy sitting comfortably on a couch, engaged in a phone call. Rumanah dropped to her knees with deep reverence, offering her morning greetings. Ammy simply nodded in acknowledgment, keeping her focus on the call.
Standing up, she began cleaning the room, pushing through the intense throbbing in her wrist with pure determination. She was fiercely resolved not to let the Sultana discover her injury.
Just then, he entered the room, offering a low greeting that only he could truly hear. Walking up to Ammy, he took the hand she extended and kissed it gently, saying:
"Good morning, Ammy."
She smiled warmly at him, wrapping up her phone call and setting it aside. "Good morning, Prince Maheer."
He simply looked at her, offering no verbal reply before stating, "I am heading out. I'll see you when I return."
"May Allah protect you. But did you take your breakfast?"
He merely nodded in response and turned to leave. Just as he reached the threshold of the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. Without turning around to face them, he spoke in his characteristic husky voice:
"Hand me the bowl of fruits sitting in front of Ammy."
Rumanah swallowed hard, her heart dropping into her stomach. She knew instantly that his command was directed entirely at her. Yet, she couldn't possibly lift the heavy glass bowl with just one hand; it required both, and she was desperate to keep Ammy from noticing her swollen wrist.
Ammy looked at him in genuine surprise, knowing he never touched food that wasn't specifically prepared and brought directly to his personal quarters.
With hesitant, trembling movements, Rumanah set down the decorative pillow she was holding and walked over to stand before Ammy. She reached out to lift the small glass bowl, but her injured wrist completely gave out under the weight. The bowl slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the hard floor and shattering into pieces.
Ammy's eyes snapped instantly to Rumanah's face.
The girl dropped to her knees in a panic to offer her apologies, but the Sultana’s gaze caught sight of her hand. Filled with shock and deep concern, Ammy interjected:
"Rumanah, your hand is terribly swollen! You are injured, yet you are forcing yourself to work?"
He let out a quiet sigh under his breath before walking out of the room. That was exactly the reaction he had intended to provoke; he wanted Ammy to realize the girl was injured so she would stop pushing her to do heavy labor.
Rumanah herself instantly put the pieces together. She realized the Prince had deliberately ordered her to lift something he knew she couldn't manage with a single hand, purely to force the truth into the open. What she couldn't understand, however, was his underlying motive for doing so.
Fixing a stern, questioning gaze upon her, Ammy demanded, "What on earth happened to your hand to make it swell like this? It looks like a severe fracture or a dislocation."
Stealing a quick, anxious glance toward the empty doorway where he had just exited, Rumanah lowered her head and whispered softly, "I accidentally struck it against something."
"Struck it against what?"
"A door."
Ammy stared at her, knowing with absolute certainty that the girl was lying to her. She had known Rumanah since she was an infant and knew she had never once spoken a falsehood to her.
Glancing toward the doorway herself, Ammy recalled the exact moment Rumanah had stolen a glance at the exit when Maheer walked out. It was obvious Maheer was fully aware of the injury. Could he have ordered her to lift the bowl on purpose?
Softening her tone with deep maternal care, Ammy asked:
"What exactly did you hit it against?"
"The door frame."
Ammy looked at her again, entirely unconvinced, but a profound sense of pity washed over her. She sighed and said, "Stand up and go to your room. I will have Maheer examine it the moment he returns."
She stood up without a word of protest and left the room. Throughout her entire life, she had never known how to argue or resist a command; she simply executed whatever she was told, comforted by the fact that the royal family had never forced her into anything that violated her religious faith or her physical well-being.
She ate a tiny portion of food, took her delivered medication, applied some ointment, and lay down on her bed. Within minutes, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into a deep sleep.
For the rest of the day, Carolina was left to handle the entire household chores completely on her own.
Suhailat had finally regained consciousness at the hospital, though she remained entirely incapable of making significant movements or speaking clearly; she required absolute assistance for every basic need. Later that afternoon, when Amah and her sibling returned from school, the Sultana accompanied them to the clinic to visit their mother.
By the time Rumanah woke from her deep slumber, the swelling in her wrist had completely gone down, and the throbbing pain had diminished to a dull ache. Sliding out of bed, she went into the bathroom and took a long, intensely hot shower. The scalding water completely relieved the heavy tension in her muscles and staved off the fever that had threatened to consume her body. After performing her prayers, she walked out and ate a proper meal before immediately jumping into preparing dinner. Working efficiently with Carolina, they quickly put together a spread of homemade pizza, boiled vegetables, and the Prince's signature fruit salad.
She was in the middle of arranging the cups on the dining table when they walked through the front door.
He walked in the lead, his suit jacket draped over his arm, wearing a crisp white long-sleeve shirt that looked as pristine as if he had just put it on.
Casting a single glance toward the entrance, she immediately lowered her gaze and focused on setting down the cups.
He didn't even bother to look in her direction, despite the fact that their very first encounter that morning had begun with a violent collision. He marched straight past her and headed upstairs.
Lifting her head, her eyes followed his retreating figure up the stairs. Just as he reached his door, he came to a sudden halt.
She quickly averted her eyes. He didn't turn around, simply stepping into his apartment and closing the door.
She released a ragged sigh, desperately trying to stabilize her erratic breathing.
Ammy, who had been quietly observing the entire unspoken interaction from the moment she entered, let out a soft sigh of her own before turning toward her private bedroom suite.
He took a shower and performed his Maghrib prayer. Remaining seated on his prayer mat until the Ishai call to prayer echoed, he went out to the local mosque. Upon his return, he bypassed the residential quarters entirely and drove straight back to the hospital.
Suhailat lay perfectly still on her hospital bed with her eyes tightly closed. However, the silent tears streaming down her face told him instantly that she was wide awake. He glanced at the attending nurses, who immediately picked up on his cue and quietly exited the room.
He gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, prompting her to open her bloodshot eyes. She stared up at him, her lips parting to speak, but he gently shook his head, signaling her to remain quiet.
Wiping away her tears with immense effort due to the sheer weakness of her body, she spoke in an incredibly fragile voice:
"I love you... I love you, and please, always remember that, even in the future."
He closed his eyes momentarily, offering no verbal reply. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss against her forehead, whispering softly, "It is time for you to sleep. Good night."
She closed her eyes, pulling her blankets tighter around herself. He kissed her once more before picking up her medical file to review her charts, then exited the room.
By the time he returned home, the main lounge was completely deserted except for the Sultana, who had deliberately stayed up to wait for him.
The moment he saw her, he knew instantly she had been awaiting his return. He walked over, kissed her hand respectfully, and said, "Good night, Ammy. Go get some rest, I am back."
She smiled warmly, standing up to face him. Just as she reached the threshold of her bedroom, she paused and said:
"Tomorrow, I want you to book our flight tickets. Rumanah and I will be departing for Libya the day after tomorrow. Furthermore, before I take her away, I want her marital status fully clarified. Once we arrive in Libya, we will not be returning to this kingdom; I want her to start an entirely fresh life there. Therefore, you have until the day after tomorrow to grant her a formal divorce."
The moment the words left her mouth, she stepped into her room without waiting for a response, closing the door behind her.
He froze dead in his tracks at the base of the stairs. From the moment she began speaking until she disappeared into her room, his mind raced. He stared blankly at her closed door.
Turning around, he climbed the stairs to his apartment. The moment he walked into his bedroom, he shut off his phone, which had been ringing relentlessly with unanswered calls. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, changed into his sleepwear, and climbed into bed.
The next morning, shortly before nine o'clock, he descended the stairs fully dressed for the day. He had an exceptionally demanding schedule ahead, with two major surgeries lined up back-to-back.
Hearing movement coming from the children's room, he paused, turning his head toward the door as a thought struck him: why hadn't they left for school yet at this hour?
He pushed the door open just as she was about to step out, causing them to almost collide for the second time. She quickly stepped to the side, suddenly acutely self-conscious of the revealing pajamas she was wearing. She had assumed Carolina had already left to take the children to school with the driver, which is why she had started cleaning the rooms to lighten Carolina's workload before her return.
He fixed a long, unblinking stare on her for several minutes before his gaze drifted down to her wrist. Averting his eyes, he walked right past her and exited the house, without even pausing to acknowledge her morning greeting.
Only after verifying that he had completely left the premises did she lift her head to stare at the empty doorway. Drawing a sharp breath, she forced herself to continue her cleaning.
Once she finished maintaining the Sultana's quarters, she turned to leave, but Ammy called her name with deep affection.
Returning to sit before her, Rumanah assumed a posture of deep respect and answered.
"Prepare your things, Rumanah. If Allah wills it, we will be departing for Libya tomorrow. Whoever is tested with the divine decrees and trials of the Almighty must embrace them with absolute faith; Allah never allows a righteous soul to be humiliated. This is precisely why I hold such high expectations for you, because you possess a rare resilience and a beautiful acceptance of destiny. Therefore, accept whatever decree comes your way regarding your marriage. Insha Allah, you will find perfect peace of mind and a beautiful, prosperous life waiting for you in Libya."
She nodded her head slowly, a heavy weight settling into her chest. In her heart, she had always known that her marriage to the Prince was never meant to endure.
She stood up and quietly exited the room.
A wave of profound sympathy washed over the Sultana, yet she recognized that dissolving this marriage was the absolute best outcome for Rumanah's life. Maheer would never look at a former palace servant as a true wife. It was far better for him to release her so they could travel abroad, where she could pursue her education until Allah brought a man into her life who would cherish her for who she was. Deep down, the Sultana harbored a dark secret: they had inflicted a profound psychological wound upon Rumanah's life, and they prayed to the Almighty that she would never discover they were the architects of her suffering. If she ever discovered the truth, her deep-seated hatred would completely erase any respect she held for them. This was why she was desperate to sever her ties completely from the house of Mineelik. As long as she remained wed to Maheer, she would always remain within Mineelik's orbit. And if Maheer himself ever unraveled the dark secret, he would grow to utterly despise both the Sultan and his own mother.
Emerging from Ammy's quarters, Rumanah pushed through her domestic duties with a heavy heart. The moment they concluded the housework, she retired to her bedroom to perform her Zuhr afternoon prayers. She remained seated in quiet isolation until the call for the Asr prayer echoed, after which she stepped out to help Carolina prepare the evening dinner.
The moment the cooking was finalized, Carolina headed over to Suhailat’s private wing to begin deep-cleaning the space, as word had come down from the clinic that she was officially scheduled to be discharged and brought home the following morning.
As for Rumanah, the moment the kitchen was clear, she returned to her sanctuary, performed her ablutions, and observed her Maghrib prayer. The moment she concluded her prayers, she began methodically gathering all her earthly belongings, packing them neatly into two large suitcases. By the time she finished packing, the calls for the Ishai night prayer began to ring out across the estate. Performing a fresh ablution, she stood up and completed her prayers.
She stepped out to the dining area and forced herself to swallow a few bites of food, though she possessed absolutely no appetite. Picking up a single apple, she retreated back to the privacy of her room.
Locking the door behind her, she stripped off her day clothes, stepped into the bathroom, and took a long shower with burning hot water. Stepping out, she applied a liberal mist of Prada perfume, neatly tied back her long hair, and sat down before her vanity mirror, sinking into a deep, heavy silence.
At exactly eight o'clock, Amah and her sibling finished their dinner. Carolina took them into their quarters, bathed them, and tucked them into their pajamas. They spent a short time studying on their tablets before exhaustion claimed them, and they drifted off to sleep one by one.
The Sultana didn't sit down for her dinner until half past nine, noting with a trace of concern that Maheer had not returned home at his usual hour.
She sat in the main lounge, quietly watching the evening news until exactly half past ten, when he finally walked through the front door, deeply engrossed in a phone call.
Seeing her waiting up for him, he promptly wrapped up his conversation, powered down his phone entirely, and sat down beside her, offering his respectful greetings.
He pulled out all the travel documentation and tickets for their upcoming trip and handed them over to her. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she inspected the documents and realized he had booked tickets exclusively for her and Rumanah.
Though a part of her had desperately pushed for the dissolution of the marriage, she had never expected him to completely cut them loose to travel together; she had assumed he would buy a ticket for her alone and leave the girl behind.
Accepting the documents and placing them gently by her side, she asked:
"What time is the flight scheduled for?"
"Nine o'clock in the morning," he replied, rising to his feet.
"Should I have your dinner brought up to you?"
He shook his head without turning back to face her, muttering, "Just have some fruits sent up."
Ammy drew a sharp, steadying breath, summoning her resolve before delivering her final condition: "When the fruits are brought up, I want you to write out her formal letter of divorce. I need it as physical proof to present to the Sultan in the future."
He spun around, locking his gaze onto her face for a long, silent moment before turning on his heel and marching upstairs. The moment he entered his apartment, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.
Ammy walked over to Rumanah's bedroom door and pushed it open gently, stepping inside with a soft greeting.
Rumanah snapped to her feet instantly, completely caught off guard by the fact that the Sultana had personally come to her room. Filled with sudden bashfulness and modesty, she shrank back, acutely aware that she was wearing nothing but her fine sleepwear.
Noticing her deep discomfort, Ammy deliberately averted her eyes and said gently:
"Go upstairs and deliver the fruits to Maheer."
"Yes, Ammy," she replied in a soft, disciplined whisper.
"Once you have delivered them, come straight down to my bedroom. I will be waiting for you."
She nodded her head in compliance.
The moment the Sultana exited the room, Rumanah stood up slowly. She pulled on a long, heavy robe that buttoned tightly down the front, pulled the hood over her hair, and made her way down to the kitchen.
Arranging the freshly cut fruits on a small silver serving tray alongside a paring knife, she began her ascent to the upper apartment.
Knowing he wouldn't be in the outer lounge, she turned the handle and stepped inside, navigating toward his master bedroom door. Lifting her hand, which was shaking uncontrollably with nerves, she knocked softly against the wood.
Met with absolute silence after three consecutive knocks, she turned the handle and stepped into the room.
The bedroom was plunged into near-total darkness, causing her to freeze mid-stride right in the center of the space.
Without a single word of warning, a powerful hand clamped firmly around her wrist. Her eyes snapped shut instantly, her breathing accelerating into rapid, terrified gasps.
He reached out and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating his form standing directly over her. He was dressed in a pair of loose, spotlessly white pajama trousers, but his chest was entirely bare, exposing the powerful, chiseled contours of his physique. He fixed a heavy, lazy gaze upon her. Her entire body began to tremble violently beneath his stare. Realizing her grip was failing, she hastily set the fruit tray down on the center table before it could slip from her fingers.
The moment the tray touched the table, she spun around to flee, but his hand shot out, catching her by the wrist and halting her in her tracks.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he pulled her backward until her back was pressed flush against the solid warmth of his bare chest.
Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, her breathing turned shallow and erratic. He reached his hand around, systematically unfastening the front buttons of her outer robe until the heavy garment lost its support, sliding down her body and pooling onto the floor.
She clamped her eyes shut with even greater intensity, yet she didn't raise a single hand to resist him.
He spun her around until they were directly facing one another, his eyes scanning her features. Reaching out his hands, he gently began to slide her silk pajamas off her shoulders.
As the fabric slipped from her body, a soft, broken sob escaped her lips. He drew her tightly into his embrace, and...
📋 Story Arc & Character Analysis
🎭 Character Dynamics & Conflict
- Maheer & Rumanah (The Unspoken Tension): This chapter highlights a massive shift in their dynamic. Maheer transitions from being entirely detached to intensely observant. His actions—such as tricking Ammy into seeing Rumanah's injury and buying the plane tickets—reveal a hidden layer of protective calculation. Ramanah’s deeply ingrained obedience acts as both her armor and her vulnerability, leaving her powerless against his physical and emotional presence.
The Sultana's Secret: The narrative introduces a massive plot twist regarding the house of Mineelik. The Sultana is desperate to divorce Rumanah from Maheer and exile her to Libya, not out of malice, but to hide a dark, ancestral crime that her family committed against Rumanah's parents. This adds an intense layer of dramatic irony, as Rumanah views the Sultana as a loving mother figure.
🔑 Literary Themes
- The Fragrance of Presence: The recurring motif of Maheer's expensive perfume (Annick Goutal) acts as a psychological trigger for Rumanah, representing his absolute, unavoidable dominance over her thoughts even when she is alone in her room.
- The Symbolism of Light and Dark: The transition from the bright, sterile kitchen to the pitch-black master bedroom mirrors Rumanah's internal journey—moving from a clear, structured life of service into the dark, unpredictable territory of her marital reality.
