“I was terrified I’d find you hurt or worse,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear the thought of n-not finding you in time...” She raised her hand shakily, a part of her still so, so afraid of touching the face that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember.

But the moment her fingers finally came into contact with his blood-crusted skin, it was like touching home, and a sob escaped her as the tear gates broke, and all her pent-up feelings poured out.

Oh, how she loved him.

“Rayyan.”

It was heaven and hell to say his name, and it took so much out of her that if not for his strong arms catching her she would have fallen apart completely, in every goddamn way there was to break.

Rayyan felt her begin to tremble, heard her struggling to breathe, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

This wasn’t right, dammit.

But even knowing this, even knowing she couldn’t ever be his, and they couldn’t ever be together –

His arms still remained around her, his heart still beating for her. It always had, ever since the moment he laid his eyes on her.

She wept in his arms, her tears telling him what her lips couldn’t bear to speak out loud. It was heaven and hell, the way it felt so good to be with her even when it was wrong. That was how it always seemed to be between them.

His fists clenched and unclenched against his sides, but as sobs continued to wrack her body, his self-control deserted him, and he slowly lifted his hand to stroke her hair.

“Oh, Rayyan.”

His fingers threaded through the silky locks of her hair, and it was agony to feel its forbidden softness.

“Oh God, Rayyan.”

He sucked in his breath when she suddenly lifted her head and took hold of his hand so she could press her cheek against his palm. Lost dark eyes clung to his as her rosebud lips slowly parted, and words that he had never thought she would say came tumbling out.

“You were right all along. I should have…we should have…”

The tiniest noise coming from the secret wall panel at the back drew his attention, and he stiffened, knowing exactly what it meant.

Noticing the sheikh’s whitened expression, Cecile felt her cheeks color with mortification even as she forced herself to ask, “Is it t-too late?”

When he only stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw, she impulsively pressed a hand over his chest and felt almost weak with relief when she felt the way his heart thundered.

“You still love me,” she whispered tremulously. “D-Don’t you?”

“Nem.” Yes.

Even knowing that such an admission would mean heaven for one girl and hell for another –

“I still do.”

The truth was ripped out of Rayyan; there was nothing else for him to do with the girl he had loved for fourteen years looking at him like she was about to break any moment.

“Oh thank God.” She collapsed against him once more.

It took almost thirty minutes before he was able to calm Cecile down and another half hour to escort her back to her home, having persuaded her to give it time before making any rash decisions.

Once you’re no longer in shock, he promised quietly, we’ll talk.

Cecile looked at him one last time, and the truth was in her eyes. It was what he had long suspected, with neither the passage of time nor condemning traditions able to shatter the ties that bound their fates together.

He should be over the fucking moon about it, but the moment she disappeared from view, all his thoughts were for someone else, and it was all Rayyan could do not to tear down walls in his haste to get to her.

Please.

Let her still be there.

Please.

Even when he didn’t deserve her, even when he still had no fucking idea what to say –

Please.

Hyacinth heard the door slide open, but she couldn’t even find the energy to look up, couldn’t even make herself save some face and wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Hyacinth.”

She wanted to stop crying, wanted to show some damn pride, but she just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

It just hurt. It hurt so goddamn much.

“Please, majamira.”

How absurdly apt that name seemed now, and to think she once thought it made her different from the rest. A near-crazed laugh almost spilled out of her. Well, now she knew better.

Words didn’t make people yours.

“Say something.”

Words couldn’t always fix things.

“Please.”

No matter how much both of them wanted it otherwise, sometimes…words were just words.