Every invitation sent out for Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi’s 32^nd birthday was returned with an affirmative, and this included Hyacinth, whose RSVP included a note that she would be attending with Marwan Bseiso.

It was Hyacinth’s first time to attend a royal event with her co-host, and with the media also speculating about the relationship between the two, it was inevitable for the topic to make its way to one of the dinners shared by Ramil’s royal family.

“Has Cin told you anything about him?” Kyria, newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms, asked Hyacinth’s older sister with genuine interest.

Conscious of the suddenly cold stare leveled at her by a certain blue-eyed sheikh, Anisah had to pretend ignorance as she said, “All she’d tell me was that they were close friends.” This much was true. “But then…you gotta wonder, right? I mean, she did share a flat with him for a few months, and Hyacinth’s not the type to trust just any guy.”

“That’s true,” the queen agreed, a thoughtful expression on her face. “And she did trust him with the truth about her being behind FBPC V1.0. That has to mean something, right?” Glancing at her husband, Harper asked curiously, “Do you think he’ll make a suitable partner for Hyacinth?”

“I had our people check him out,” the king admitted, “and nothing I’ve read suggests otherwise.”

Tarif and Altair turned to Rayyan at the same time, and when they realized what they were doing –

The kingdom’s army commander raised a brow at his cousin. You know about Hyacinth?

Tarif allowed himself a barely perceptible nod.

They looked at Rayyan again, who was looking more murderous with every second spent on the womenfolk listing down the many sterling qualities of Hyacinth’s co-host.

“What say you, Rayyan?” Malik asked conversationally. “Hyacinth worked for you for some time, hasn’t she? Do you think she should date Marwan Bseiso if he were to ask her out?”

“Can you hand me that bottle of wine?” Altair asked before Rayyan could answer.

“It’s getting late,” Tarif told his wife at the same time. “We should go. I like to have at least four good hours of fucking before going to sleep.”

Anisah’s lovely face burned a bright shade of red. “Tarif!”

Tarif feigned a discomfited look, saying, “I know what you’re all thinking, and nem, I am sorry for being such a neglectful husband. Anisah has insisted on five, but---”

His wife slapped a hand over his mouth. “Will you shut up?”

The entire table burst into laughter, and it was with this that the dinner came to its end, with both sheikhs having saved Rayyan from losing his temper and letting loose words he might later on have reason to regret.

Even so, Tarif made certain to corner the other sheikh first thing in the morning the next day, walking into Rayyan’s office unannounced. “If you’re that bothered about Hyacinth dating another man,” he said without preamble, “then why the fuck don’t you just date her yourself?”

Knowing it was pointless to deny any feelings on his side, Rayyan simply shook his head, saying curtly, “It’s not that easy.”

“You either want her or you don’t. It can’t get any simpler than that, brother.” He paused. “Unless there is someone else involved---”

“Nem.”

Tarif cursed under his breath. “You cheated on Hyacinth?”

Rayyan shot his cousin a glare. “No, of course not. I told you, it’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“There is someone else I owe my loyalty to---”

“So?” Tarif’s impatient glance spoke volumes of what he thought of the sheikh’s explanation. “I can’t believe you’re fucking making me do this,” he snarled under his breath.

“Do what?” Rayyan’s tone was irritable.

“Talk about love, you fucking dolt.” Tarif’s tone was filled with disgust. “Because it’s obvious you fucking need to learn a thing or two about it.”

“Airafi.” Fuck you.

“Fuck you, too, but it doesn’t change a thing, so just listen because I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“You know where the door---”

Tarif rolled his eyes. “Will you just fucking shut up?” he demanded in exasperation. “I’m trying to help you here---”

“And I’m trying to tell you there is no way out for me.”

Tarif sobered. “There always is.”

Rayyan’s face remained hard.

“Look, let me put it in terms your money-oriented mind will understand. This four-letter word we’re talking about, you can’t treat it like some goddamn bank loan you have to pay back. If it exists, and it’s what another person feels for you – that’s her choice, but she’s got no right to force you to feel the same, just like you can’t deny what’s inside you – and who you really want to give it to.”

“Ready?”

“Never.”

Hyacinth burst into laughter. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“We both know I’m doing this for the show,” Marwan said easily, “but yeah, sure, you’re welcome.”

And with Marwan’s arm casually slung around her waist, they entered the palace’s grand ballroom and let the butler announce their arrival in a stentorian voice.

Her heart slammed against her chest as they slowly descended the steps. She tried to remind herself that she had an ulterior motive for coming here, tried to remember that she had to be very careful because there was no way knowing which one around her was a spy until it was too late.

But then she saw him –

And he was with her.

Mrs. B., beautiful in black, and looking oh so frail in her wheelchair.

The older woman caught sight of her, and Hyacinth quickly put her facial muscles to work. You can do this. It was a struggle to get her lips to work and return Mrs. B.’s smile, but she eventually managed it. There you go. But as she turned her head away, her gaze clashed with Rayyan’s and no matter how hard she tried –

Come on, H. Come on!

She just couldn’t do it.

He was the one man in her life that she didn’t want to hide anything from, and even if he couldn’t be hers – if there couldn’t be love, then she at least wanted there to be truth between them.

At the opposite end of the ballroom, Rayyan deliberately turned his gaze away from the new arrivals, and after excusing himself from Cecile, he stalked towards the bar, a cold haze of fury slowly filling his mind.

He knew. Of course he goddamn knew he had no fucking right to despise the closeness between them, but it didn’t matter. He still wanted to tear the boy’s arm off and teach him a lesson about touching what wasn’t his –

“Whoa, son.”

Rayyan was startled to find himself almost barreling straight into his own father. “Maehdina.” I’m sorry.

“I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes,” Rowena exclaimed.

“I was…thinking of something.”

“I’d say,” Anthony murmured, noticing the barely diminished anger that still lined his son’s face. “You know your mother and I have to catch a midnight flight later on, don’t you?”

“Nem, Father.”

“Which means we don’t have much time to talk,” Anthony murmured.

Rayyan frowned. “Talk about what?”

“Which is why we’re just going to come out and say it,” Rowena finished at the same time with a subtle nod at Cecile Bauer’s direction. Even dressed in mourning, the woman was easily one of the loveliest women at the ball, and she couldn’t blame her son for being deeply in love with the widow all these years.

The sheikh’s parents exchanged looks.

They had hoped that their son’s feelings would eventually wane, but if that was how Rayyan wanted it, then they wouldn’t stand in his way.

It took several moments for Rayyan to realize what his parents were not saying. “You know about her?”

“More to the point,” Anthony murmured, “we know about the two of you.”

Fuck.

“We may be obsessed with our work, but it doesn’t mean we’ve stopped paying attention to our son’s life.” Rowena cleared her throat. “And in the interest of honesty, we have always thought there was a chance your feelings would only be infatuation---”

“I loved her.”

Rowena blinked. “Loved?”

“It’s a long story,” Rayyan said shortly. “Suffice to say, I must stay by her side---”

It was Anthony’s turn to be bemused. “Must?” He exchanged another look with his wife before both of them turned to their son.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“We’re just a little confused,” Rowena admitted. “You speak of her as if being with her is a duty---”

“It is.” Rayyan shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “She has no one else---”

“What a load of crock,” the sheikh’s normally genteel mother exclaimed, and it was shocking enough to render her son speechless. “Love doesn’t work that way, my boy. There’s no right or wrong, and there’s certainly no place for guilt.”

“If we had let the dictates of our conscience rule us,” Anthony said quietly, “we would have stayed here and raised you like normal parents do. But you mark my words – such a thing would only have lasted for a few years. Both of us would have ended up driving each other crazy, and we’d have eventually filed for divorce and you’d probably have turned into a junkie even before you hit puberty.”

“Is this still about me,” Rayyan asked mildly, “or it’s just that it took the two of you 32 years to come up with a plausible excuse for your abse---ow!” He stared at his mother in shock. “Did you just---”

Rowena thumped the back of his head again. “Now, do you believe it happened?”

“Mother!”

“Do you want me to do it again?” she asked very sweetly.

He shot her a disgruntled look, but when she started to raise her hand again, Rayyan said right away, “Maehdina, saydati.” Apologies, madame.

Rowena inclined her head in regal acceptance. “Your apology is accepted---” She saw her son start to speak and glared him into silence. “But I am not finished.”

Rayyan managed not to roll his eyes. What the hell was this? After 32 years of letting him do his own thing, why were his parents suddenly in the mood to interfere? Maybe, they’ve had one too many to drink –

“No, son.” Anthony’s tone was wry, with the look on his son’s face all too easy to read. “Your mother and I are very much sober.”

“I, ah, didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Rowena retorted. “It’s written all over your face---”

“Can you two stop going around in circles and just say what you want to say?” Rayyan was exasperated. “Because it’s obvious you’re both wanting to get something off your chest---”

“You do not look happy.”

Ah.

A humorless smile flashed over the sheikh’s lips. “An unavoidable occupational hazard---”

“Or of choosing the wrong woman to be with?” Rowena asked quietly.

Rayyan’s lips tightened.

“I know you are not used to having someone tell you off, and it’s causing you to instinctively resist people’s advice. I also know it’s our fault – but surely, you must know as well how much we love you?”

Rayyan nodded. “I do. I…know.”

“Then please believe me when I say love isn’t ever meant to tie you down.” Rowena placed a hand over her son’s arm. “And if the woman you’re with doesn’t know that – then she doesn’t know what love is.”

She waited for his answer with bated breath, and when Rayyan moved to take her hand off, Rowena feared all was lost – until she felt her son give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maehfam.” I understand. “And thank you.” Rayyan had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “I…needed to hear that---”

“We just want you to be happy, son,” Anthony said gruffly.

“Although I have to say, it took the two of you a rather long time to get your shit together---”

Thump!

Rayyan gave his parents a crooked grin. “Muzha.” I kid. He bowed. “If you will excuse me?”

Because everything was clear now.

Too damn clear, actually, that he had to fight against the stirrings of panic that was making his chest feel like it was about to explode.

First things first: he should look for Cecile, let her know that he could no longer be there for her in the way she wanted – but not needed.

Because one only needed the person one truly loved, and he wasn’t so sure anymore if Cecile truly loved him.

After asking Gadi to look for Marwan and Hyacinth, he returned to the table he shared with Cecile. She was nowhere to be found, but she had left her purse on one of the vacant chairs, and as he picked it up, its lid flipped open and her phone fell out.

And that was when he saw it - a message thread between Cecile and Hyacinth, which the former had never told him about.

The old Rayyan, the one who placed honor above all things, would have simply waited for Cecile to come back so he could ask for an explanation.

But that Rayyan was gone.

Who he was now knew better and had only one thought in mind.

Fuck honor.

This was about Hyacinth, the woman he loved, and she was the one who mattered the most.

Rayyan started reading the messages.

I hope you’re doing well there. Rayyan and I are doing okay. I’ve tried talking to him about you, but he says you no longer matter. I’m so sorry.

The sheikh bit back a curse. Lies, all lies. The truth was the very opposite – countless times, he had tried to bring up Hyacinth, and every time he did, she would start crying. But knowing what he knew now, he wouldn’t be surprised if those tears had been lies as well.

Do you remember that tattoo I showed you? It represents a door from heaven, and yes, I know you understand what I’m saying. It’s the meaning of Rayyan’s name…I just wanted to tell you the truth now because I’m so tired of lying.

Rayyan could not believe the sheer amount of malice invested in the words, with the date and time stamps showing that Cecile had sent the message out of the blue, almost as if she simply wanted to hurt Hyacinth on a whim.

And to think, Hyacinth blamed herself for being so twisted when in truth, it was Cecile whom evil had transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

I’m so sorry about what happened to Anisah. But please don’t use this as a chance to make a play for Rayyan’s sympathies. He’s the only one I have left, Hyacinth.

The message, sent on the day of Anisah’s abduction, was the last straw. Cecile goddamn knew how afraid Hyacinth would have been at that time, and yet she had forced Hyacinth to endure her pain alone.

And he had let her, Rayyan realized with sickening self-loathing, because he had not known any better.

“Rayyan?”

He slowly lifted his gaze to hers.

She was pale and trembling in her wheelchair, and all he could think of was whether her injury was even real, or had that, too, been a lie.

The world started spinning too fast as Cecile watched the sheikh rise to his feet, and she thought madly of what to say, having seen her phone in his hand and knowing exactly what he could have gleaned from it.

I have to keep him with me at all costs, she thought feverishly. I have to. I have to. I have to.

But then she heard the sheikh say, “She never stopped hating herself for hurting you.”

All thoughts of defending herself, every lie she planned to speak, everything just faded, and she didn’t even think of stopping the sheikh from walking away as Rayyan’s words forced the truth on her, and she could no longer look away.

She never stopped hating herself for hurting you.

Because the truth was – she had always known, deep inside, she and Rayyan could never go back to the past, and forcing him to stay with her had been no different from chasing after a shadow of her dreams.

But Hyacinth –

Do you see this? It moves up here, and the same goes for the other side.

Their friendship had been real –

And that, my dear Mrs. B., is how smiles are born.

Cecile’s head hung low as she started to weep.

I’m so sorry, Hyacinth. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.