Waga’a sa’aa wala kol sa’aa. The pain of an hour rather than that of every hour.
The adage was true. But she knew this pain would only grow until it consumed her. For this was worse than anything she’d feared. Just before her family had come, she’d succumbed and...checked. The two pink lines had appeared instantaneously. It was as she’d feared for some time now.
She was pregnant.
Knowing for sure that she carried the baby of the only man she could ever love—when he no longer wanted that child or her—was pure, unremitting agony.
Now she wanted, needed, to look him in the eye and get the closure of hearing him say it.
That he no longer wanted a child. Or her. That he’d never really wanted her, not as she wanted him.
That it was over.
Nine
Numair stood aside and let Najeeb pass inside what he and Jenan had come to call Malaz, or Sanctuary. Their home.
The home he’d contrived not to let her come to for a whole week now. He’d known if she came, he’d succumb to his need, and more, to hers. The questions, the uncertainty in her eyes every time he’d seen her at the palace or elsewhere with others around during the past week had been killing him. But he hoped, after Najeeb’s visit, the separation he’d enforced on them would be over forever.
He’d invited Najeeb here to face him with the truth.
Najeeb regarded him with confusion as Numair invited him to sit down where he had the first time he’d come here. Their relationship had changed radically over the past weeks since that hostile first meeting. But their interactions had remained with Jenan at their core. No doubt Najeeb couldn’t understand what they had to discuss in her absence.
Najeeb asked at once, “Is this about Jenan?”
Numair sat down on the armchair facing him. “Everything is ultimately about Jenan. But this is about you. And me. And our family.”
Najeeb went still, his face freezing. “Our family?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, pushed toward him the dossier with all the evidence of his identity.
The teams he’d had scouring the Mediterranean with Black Castle patented equipment and technology had found the sunken yacht. And the remains. A DNA test had proved his memories without a doubt. The remains were incontrovertibly of Hisham Aal Ghaanem. Hassan’s brother. And Numair’s father.
Najeeb went through each document, mounting shock an expanding sweep emanating from him.
Then Najeeb raised his eyes, and there was something there that shocked Numair in turn. The last thing he’d expected Najeeb to feel. Delight.
“You’re my cousin!”
Numair’s throat closed. Najeeb’s reaction rocked him to his core. He’d been bracing for Najeeb’s disbelief, suspicion, dismay and a dozen other things that would be natural reactions when faced with a revelation of this magnitude. But this—the unmistakable acceptance and instant eagerness—hadn’t even been reactions he’d imagined. Najeeb continued to decimate his every expectation. And if he’d already been wondering how to become his antagonist and rival for the throne, he now wondered if he could be.
Najeeb sat forward, every line in his body explicit with his excitement. “Ya Ullah, after all these years! What happened? How did you find out? Did you just find out? B’Ellahi, this is incredible, amazing! Wait till Haroon and Jawad and my other siblings find out about this! The girls especially will go ballistic. They’ve been swooning over you, and now they’ll have premium bragging rights. But we’ll have to make it clear right off the bat to every other lady in our family and acquaintance that you’re the exclusive property of Jenan—”
Hating to do it, Numair had to interrupt his zeal. “I got you in private because I don’t want anyone but you to know. You’ll realize why when I tell you the whole story.”
Numair couldn’t believe how it dismayed him to see the spontaneity in the other man’s eyes dimming. He’d no doubt extinguish it completely if he declared his right to the throne.
For now, he told him the story he’d already decided to tell him. The attack, his father’s murder and how he’d been left for dead, and the fictional parts about being rescued then adopted, then back to the truth of retrieving his memories of the incident after years of hypnotherapy.
Najeeb looked more moved with every word. Then he let out a ragged exhalation. “But this means you knew your true identity when we first met. Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“Because I was still searching for the proof you have in your hands now.”
“You thought I wouldn’t believe you without evidence?” Najeeb seemed stunned that Numair had considered such a thing.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“To borrow your and Jenan’s favorite catchphrase, you’re kidding, right? After my initial hostility, which was all concern for Jenan, I felt a kindred link to you that I couldn’t explain. I would have believed you without any proof beyond those of my instincts.” Suddenly, he laughed. “But it’s your lady’s instincts that are uncanny. She’s the one who saw through it all from the first moment, who kept saying we felt as close as brothers. As we are.”