The spirit of Christmas swept over the palace with a flurry of parties hosted by the royal family, and with it was the promise that Hyacinth just might come home as well. Rayyan, however, forced himself to shove the thought out of his mind every time it tried to entertain the possibility, and he also made sure to avoid bumping into Anisah. As shameful as it was to admit, he didn’t quite trust himself not to ask Anisah about her sister’s plans if he ended up spending more than a few minutes in the other girl’s company.

But on the eve of Christmas, what he dared not let himself even think of happened anyway, with his staff giving themselves away as they greeted his arrival at work with furtive glances and nervous smiles. He called Gadi to his office, and he only had to stare at his assistant for a few seconds before the younger man completely broke down.

“She’s back,” Gadi blurted out. “Hyacinth, I mean. She’s here for---”

“There’s no need to explain.” Rayyan was privately relieved to hear his voice steady and expressionless. “You may go.”

Gadi struggled with his confusion and disappointment at his employer’s lackluster response. “Nem, alshaykh.” Yes, sheikh.

Rayyan watched the younger man leave his office with drooped shoulders. Although he knew for a fact that Hyacinth had done her best to make everyone believe that her “infatuation” for the sheikh had died a natural death and that she was moving forward with her new life at university, he also knew that everyone hadn’t bought a word she said.

Apparently, the general consensus was that Hyacinth had been unable to forgive him for being seen taking his ex-mistress to dinner, and he had let them go on thinking so.

It was better they thought him an incurable philanderer than find out the truth, which was that no matter how fucking hard he wished it could be any other way…

He already belonged to someone else.

So just stop goddamn thinking about her.

But this turned out to be easier said than done.

One long-serving tradition in the finance department was for the sheikh to hand out New Year bonuses on the 26^th of December, and when the sheikh strode into his office that day, he was only slightly taken aback by the overly festive atmosphere that greeted him.

Everyone was grinning like fools, and despite Rayyan’s frown, his staff appeared strangely immune, making him wonder if perhaps Gadi had taken advantage of his appalling lack of focus in recent times. Maybe a memorandum about a higher bonus percentage than usual and the sheikh had unknowingly signed his approval for it?

But as he drew nearer to his private office and his employees started to part like the fucking Nile River, his heart began to thud against his chest like a schoolboy having his first eyeful of the MILF living next door.

Don’t even goddamn think about it.

You don’t even fucking have the right to consider such a thing.

Don’t you fucking for one second –

And yet…

There she was.

Ah.

His steps crashed to a full stop, the pounding of his heart so damn loud he was just waiting for someone at the office to complain about the noise.

Jamila.

It meant ‘beautiful’ in Rami, and that was exactly what she was.

Every perfect inch of her was beautiful, and he couldn’t comprehend how he had remained fucking ignorant of this fact until now.

Maybe it was the painful length of her absence, the haunting emptiness she left ever since she walked out of his life – maybe it was just fate deciding it was time he stopped being blind, but it was like seeing her with new eyes.

Long dark tresses that he wanted to comb with his fingers, the gentle, elegant sculpture of her cheeks, the swan-like length of her neck, the sun-kissed skin, the pure, innocent fragrance of her ripe, slender figure –

Most of all, gazing at her reminded him of the night his lips had branded her his, and Rayyan had to drag breath into his lungs in an attempt to control the suddenly rampant urges of his body.

She was presently surrounded by staff, all of them visibly excited by her return and seemingly in competition with each other as to who could relay the most convincing story about how much the sheikh had helplessly pined away at her absence.

Salah swears on his grave that not once has the sheikh ever come into contact with Ms. Black since you left.

Rayyan stiffened. The way they were going, they’d have Hyacinth convinced her leaving him had made him impotent.

We see him with this faraway look on his face all the time…

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did a man gazing outside his window have to automatically mean he was thinking of a woman? Why couldn’t it just be that – and he had something to look at outside his window?

And he never asks us about you. Ever. Doesn’t that say something?

Sure it fucking did. It meant he was a private person. That was all it was –

We really think he’s in love –

Rayyan coughed, and the circle around Hyacinth instantly broke apart. He watched her eyes widen with shock at seeing him standing there. How long have you been standing there?

His lip curled. Long enough to know I need to fire most of my staff for slander.

Her lips twitched, and then her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. But were they really lying? Her lips curved in a smile as sly as it was alluring. Or were you truly pining for me?

His heart slammed against his chest. God. It was almost like fucking magic, the way the days they had been apart ceasing to matter, and everything was suddenly back the way it was – the way it was meant to be.

Because this time, he was done lying, done forcing himself to do what was right, done trying to figure things out.

This time, it was just about what he wanted.

And for better or for worse – he wanted Hyacinth.

University life was nothing and everything Hyacinth expected it to be. On one hand, she was disappointed to realize that most talks about the freedoms of adulthood were just that – talk. Within the walls of her new home, she still found herself pretending – smiling because it was easier that way, swallowing the words she wanted to say because it was what was expected of her, and most of all, she had to pretend she was absolutely fine.

But she was not – at all.

Every night was a struggle, to the point that she would find herself crying at her sheer inability to fall asleep without seeing the sheikh taking another woman in his arms.

Fuck you, Rayyan Al-Atassi. FUCK YOU. She screamed the words at her pillow – the only thing she could do to lessen the heavy, crushing weight of her pain. She hated him. God, how she hated him, and she hoped she would always keep hating him because that was the only way to keep herself from remembering that there was something else she felt for him.

The only bright thing in her new life was her unofficial work at the media club. When she had first applied as a writer, its editor-in-chief Marwan Bseiso – a fourth-year student majoring in journalism – had rejected her outright, saying that he had no need for palace mouthpieces masquerading as bright-eyed freshmen with patriotic dreams.

Normally, she would have let such remarks fly with a shrug, but since it was on that same day she had received a call from Mrs. B. and had to fake ignorance about the other woman’s incestuous relationship with her cousin, Hyacinth had just…snapped.

She had flown into a rage, ended up saying a thousand things that she would’ve normally kept to herself, and when her anger had died, she had stood there, shaken and appalled by her loss of control –

Marwan had simply said, “It seems like I’ve misjudged you.”

Apparently, Marwan was a huge fan of Fuck Being Politically Correct, and now that he knew she was the one behind it, he was more than happy to have her be part of his team. Consequently, it was having Marwan as her pseudo mentor that made Hyacinth gradually realize what she wanted to be.

The only thing left was to find the courage to seize her dream with her own two hands.

Which was why she was here, Hyacinth thought to herself, waiting for the sheikh like the lovesick idiot that she tried so hard to pretend she wasn’t.

She tried to take all the stories the sheikh’s staff was eagerly sharing with a grain of salt, but it was hard, since they were saying exactly what she needed to hear. Did he really miss her? Did he? Did he?

And then…he was just there.

Oh my God, how long had he been standing there?

A second later, she saw his lip curl, and she could’ve sworn she literally heard his voice in her mind, answering her unspoken question. Long enough to know I need to fire most of my staff for slander.

It had her lips twitching, and she could only look at him, so, so damn happy she had to distract herself with a bit of banter lest she ended up crying. But were they really lying? She let her lips curve in a taunting smile. Or were you truly pining for me?

After, Hyacinth waited for the sheikh to smirk or at least smile back at the question, but his gorgeous face remained impassive, his blue eyes blazing.

It took more than a moment for her to realize that was it already.

His answer –

He had pined for her.

And she could no longer stop herself, her feet moving all on its fucking own, and then she was running and sobbing –

The sheikh’s arms closed around her just as she started crying in his arms, and the painful silence of her sobs had everyone looking away to hide their own tears.

Rayyan swept her up, and uncaring of what doing so would mean in the eyes of his employees, he carried her into his office and kicked the door shut. He felt her body began to shake at the strength of her endless sobs, and torment twisted inside of him.

He forced himself to lower her even when his instincts warned him against giving her the slightest chance to run away.

He slowly made her look at him, his own hands shaking as he cupped her face. “Hyacinth---” A thousand possibilities ran through his mind in a mere second; he just wanted to be fucking sure that his next words wouldn’t hurt her.

But in the end, they were all useless.

She pulled away from his hold. “Tell me about her.”

Because it appeared she had only come back to do it all on her own.

Rayyan whitened. “Why the fuck---”

“Because I need to hear all the reasons why---” Her eyes shone brighter and brighter with every word. So damn bright, it hurt to look at them. “You can’t love me. Yet.”

In all the years he lived, and with all the things he had seen –

“Please, Rayyan?”

It was only now that he realized how despair alone could make eyes bright like diamonds.

“Alright.” He strove to keep his voice steady, knowing that to let her hear anything else in his words would only make her hurt more, and when she took his hand to lead him to the couch, he let her.

Even when it seemed like she was hell bent on tearing her own heart out, he had to goddamn let her. Any attempt to keep her from hurting would have been nothing but a lie, and goddammit, he had hurt her enough.

She made him take one end of the couch while she took the other, turning to him with eyes that still shone too brightly and lips that seemed to be just a whisper away from quivering. He watched her tuck her knees under her chin, and she appeared to him like a scared little girl who knew she was about to hear a bedtime story on boogeymen – and that the scariest of them all just happened to be the man sitting next to her.

Hyacinth worked her facial muscles hard to come up with a smile. “So…” She forced herself to keep her gaze on the sheikh. “How did you end up falling for your cousin?”

His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“Not with you, no, and stop changing the subject.”

“I wasn’t, and to answer your question, we first met when we were seventeen---”

“Shit.”

Rayyan was bemused at the interruption, considering he had barely started. “What?”

“Are you saying I’m up against your first love?”

“Yes.” The sheikh’s voice was mild, his expression neutral – not even the smallest clue existed for Hyacinth to realize that he had come to understand that this whole goddamn Q&A, this whole parody of a late-night talk show, was for his sake.

“Great,” Hyacinth muttered.

Because she didn’t want him to feel guilty for not being able to love her –

“So not only am I up against an Arabian Barbie---”

Because childish or not, she wanted to pretend she had some pride left and make it seem like she could talk about the woman he loved without breaking down.

“You’re also saying you haven’t gotten over her even after all these years?”

And because he owed it to her to pretend that things were going exactly as she planned, he managed to look into her eyes as he murmured under his breath, “That’s right.” And diamonds turned into stars as he forced himself to say, “Thirteen years and counting, in fact.” He saw her smile start to wobble, and it took everything in him to look away and pretend he saw nothing. Her pride was all she had left, and he would fucking make sure she kept it, even if it meant having to act like a bastard to the only girl who was able to remind him how it was to smile again.

After a while, he heard her clear her throat, and he would’ve smiled if he had the right to.

Good girl.

That was the Hyacinth he knew – and would never deserve.

“So, umm, let me get this straight. You were seventeen when you decided you didn’t care about incest---”

“We didn’t know we were related until it was too late.”

Hyacinth’s jaw dropped. “Come again?”

“I was enrolled in a prep school in London for the summer, and she happened to enroll for the same class.” Rayyan only allowed himself to look at her again when he was certain he had regained sufficient control of his emotions. “We hit it off, mostly because I was the only one amused at the way she tended to snap at anyone who tried to befriend her.”

“You’re saying you’re a masochist.” She made herself sound as bitchy as she could, anything to hide the fact that it was getting harder and harder not to cry.

“I’m saying,” the sheikh corrected, “all the other boys in class were scared stiff of her.”

Because the truth was, she was the masochist here, with how she was practically begging for details on how another woman had managed to do what she couldn’t -

“They all tried to ask her out---”

And that was to steal the sheikh’s heart, when Hyacinth couldn’t manage to turn his head around even once.

“But because she had a certain way of speaking---”

“Is that your way of saying she could make a man’s dick limp as a rotten, soggy banana with just one word?” She was grinning so hard it felt like her face was about to crack any second.

“I would’ve phrased it differently, but yes, it was essentially that characteristic of hers the reason why the two of us ended up spending most of our free time---”

Fearing that he would start singing her praises, and her face would end up cracking like broken china, she hastily cut him off, saying shortly, “Can you just get to the part where you find out you two make the perfect couple for a V.C. Andrews novel?”

“I would’ve gotten to that part,” he pointed out, “if not for your constant interruptions.”

“Just get on with it.”

“To be honest, there’s not much left.”

If that was true, Hyacinth thought, then why has all the light gone out of your eyes?

“We promised to keep in touch when summer ended. When I came back to Ramil, I was surprised to find Cecile at the palace. I asked her why she was there, and she said she had no idea either, only that her mother said there was someone she wanted Cecile to meet.” Rayyan’s lips twisted. “At that time, we both thought our parents might have been on to us, and that they approved of our relationship.”

“Were they?” Hyacinth couldn’t help asking. “On to you, I mean?”

“I stayed in the drawing room to wait with her, and when her mother came back, she was with my uncle---”

“Prince Arthur?”

“Nem.” Yes. The sheikh’s tone became icy. “I remember how pleased he was at finding us together, and seeing it, I remember how that had made me even more hopeful as well. It was the most blissful five seconds of my life, followed by the five worst seconds---”

I should have known a smart young man like you would have figured it out for yourself. While I can’t publicly acknowledge Cecile as my daughter, I hope I can count on you to take your cousin under your wing.

Hyacinth waited for the sheikh to say more, but when he gazed at her, she could only shake her head, incredulous at what the emptiness of his silence was suggesting. “That can’t be it,” she protested.

“Actually,” the sheikh drawled, “that can be it, and that was it.”

“But you loved each other---”

“We were cousins.”

“Didn’t you even try to talk---”

“We were cousins.”

“Will you stop that?”

Hyacinth couldn’t blame the sheikh for stiffening at her sudden scream. The truth was, she had shocked herself, too –

But it was his fault, really, she thought numbly. How in the fucking world could he expect her to remain calm when all the time he was speaking, she could see in his eyes how much he was hurting, how much he had been hurting all these years –

“I know you,” she said tightly. “I wish I didn’t, but I know the man you are, and I know…you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t have given up just like that.”

A ravaged expression shattered the cold mask on the sheikh’s handsome face at her words, yielding a split-second glimpse into his soul –

Oh God.

“You’re right.”

How he had loved her.

“I told her I’d give up everything for her.”

How he still loved her.

“And she gave me her answer by betrothing herself to another man---” Rayyan’s voice died when he saw the tears rushing down Hyacinth’s face, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Are you actually crying for me?”

“You don’t need to say I’m stupid. I already know I fucking am.”

A hoarse laugh escaped him. “You really are one, aren’t you?”

“W-What?” She made an angry swipe at her eyes, but the damn tears still kept pouring down like an unstoppable storm.

“Majamira.” She was exactly that – a tiny insanity, because here she was, crying her heart out – for him. “I wish I had met you---” He stopped speaking, but it was too late, the smile she gave him telling her she already knew the rest.

Because the thing was, he had met her first. Hyacinth was four years old when she had first come to the palace, and Rayyan had been sixteen – one full year before Cecile had even entered the picture.

Hyacinth dug her nails into her palms. He was right, she thought numbly. She was insane. She had to be, to wish that he wasn’t hurting right now – even if it meant having another woman love him back.

“You wasted your wish,” she muttered. “You know that, don’t you?”

There was a tense moment of silence, and then the sheikh said, “Nem.” Yes. Because he owed it to her. Because it was the least he could do. Because it was always fucking like that between them, Hyacinth loving him, and Rayyan hurting her –

“So that’s it then?” Are you sure? Her eyes were still shining. Can’t you really love me?

“Anti-climactic, isn’t it?” I wish I could. He slowly reached over to ruffle her hair. But I can’t.

She grabbed his hand before he could touch a single strand of her hair. He waited, half-expecting her to fling his hand back at him, but after another moment, she slowly pressed his hand over her heart.

From the very start, you only let me in your life because of her.

Her head lowered, and she pressed his hand closer as her tears fell on his skin.

Didn’t you?

Her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for an answer she already knew.

So many things that once confused her –

The way the sheikh had so readily allowed her to rope him into her crazy plans…

They were all so painfully clear now –

The look on the other woman’s face when she heard the sheikh say every word Hyacinth had spoken was true…

She felt the sheikh slowly try to pull his hand away, and even knowing that she was better off letting him go, she just…couldn’t.

“Hyacinth---”

Her fingers tightened over him. “Not just yet.”

But he was too strong for her, and the loss of his warmth over her heart was unbearable. Her head snapped up, and she whispered, “Why?” It was the question she always ended up asking him. “Why?”

“Because you mean too much for me to use you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hyacinth---”

“Bullshit.”

She found herself slapping his face as she screamed the word over and over.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

And he didn’t do a thing to stop her because they both heard what she was really saying.

Love me. Love me. Love me.

She crumpled into him, and his arms closed around her. I’m sorry. His arms tightened, and her heart broke all over again.

I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. So goddamn sorry.

Because it wasn’t just remorse she heard in his unspoken words.

More than anyone else in the world…I’d want it to be you.

And even now, he still meant it.

She pushed herself up to look into his eyes, throwing caution to the wind as she let him see what she had always been wearing on her sleeve. “Prove it,” Hyacinth heard herself whisper tremulously.

The way the sheikh’s jaw clenched told her he knew exactly what she was asking for. “If it doesn’t work out---”

“I’ll probably have to move to Siberia, yes,” she interrupted him, “but what if it works? What if it w-works---” Her voice broke. “Can you just imagine how wonderful it would be?”

He could, easily. A life without pain, but more than that, a life with her, knowing that all of him was hers – it was the easiest thing to imagine, and it was the precise reason why he could also imagine, just as easily, how much it would hurt if it didn’t come true.

And that was what he couldn’t bear.

“I don’t want to hurt you more than I’ve already had.”

“It’s not your choice to make.”

“Goddammit, Hyacinth---”

“Please.”

“This could still pass.”

“It won’t.”

“You’re too young---”

“So were the two of you,” she whispered, “and it didn’t make a difference, did it?”

Ah, fuck. “This is crazy.” But they both knew what the words really meant, and she threw her arms around him with a teary laugh.

“I’ll s-steal your heart from her,” she said between tears and hiccups, “I p-promise.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“I m-mean it,” she stammered, albeit fiercely.

“I know,” he said gently. “And like I said---” He slowly raised her just enough for him to place a kiss over her heart. “I’m counting on it.”