It was over.
Finished.
Despite what she might have said she wanted, he knew Addan had been the man she loved, the man she’d chosen. Malik was tormented by imaginings of what Sophia’s life should have been, married to Addan, happy, laughing, relaxed. His gut tightened every time he imagined that, imagined seeing her as his sister-in-law, at government events, so beautiful and… content… on Addan’s arm.
He was tormented by what should have been – and what was.
Malik worked late into the night, every night for seven nights after the discovery of her condition. He worked late, even when it wasn’t necessary. And when he didn’t work, he sat in his office, acknowledging he was hiding from this, from her.
After two weeks, despite the lateness of his arrival in his suite of rooms, Sophia was awake.
His first thought, when he entered the apartment and saw her pacing from one side to the other, her skin so pale, her expression serious, was that something was wrong.
“What is it?” Urgency propelled him across the room, his dark eyes rushing over her. “Are you okay?”
“No.” A simple response. “I’m not fine. Malik, what’s going on?”
Caution overtook concern. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve barely seen you in a fortnight, ever since the doctor came and confirmed the pregnancy.” She frowned, and she looked so vulnerable in that moment, so frail and small, his chest thumped. How in the world could she carry his child?
He remembered how she’d been in that moment, her expression showing him everything she’d felt. Her happiness. Her relief. Her gladness. It had been like a sledgehammer in his gut. Where he felt only disappointment that it was the ending of their togetherness, her relief had been palpable.
“I thought you wanted this,” she said, quietly.
“I do.”
She shook her head. “But you don’t. You’re… annoyed. Angry? I can’t work it out. I thought the whole point of this marriage was to get you an heir…”
“It was.” His eyes narrowed, as the simplicity of this situation revealed itself to him. “And now we’ve done that. You’re pregnant.”
Comprehension dawned. He saw the way her brow furrowed and then shifted, her eyes jerking to his and then away. She spun from him, moving towards the balcony, but not stepping out onto it. “So that’s it,” she said thickly. “I’m pregnant and you don’t want to be with me anymore?”
He expelled a sigh of frustration. “You just said it yourself, having a child is the sole purpose of this union.”
She nodded, but it was just a jerk of her head. “So you don’t want me at all, on any level?” She prompted, turning to face him, lifting a hand to his chest. Of course, she must feel the racing of his heart; that must answer her questions.
His eyes hooked to hers. “I want you to be happy,” he said, finally, after a long pause.
“But our marriage really is just a sham, right? You’ve got me pregnant and now you’re done with me? So what, Malik, do you go back to having sex with other women? Sleeping your way around Europe, and I turn a blind eye?”
His gut rolled at the idea.
“Until a year or two passes and we need to have another child? Is that the marriage you envisage for us?”
He shook his head, reaching out and gripping her shoulders, pulling her body closer to his, so close that he wondered at his restraint in not kissing her.
“I promise you here and now, Sharafaha, I will not sleep with another woman so long as we are married.”
She stared up at him, her eyes huge in her delicate face. “So you’re going to abstain from sex altogether?” Her eyes lowered. “I thought…”
“What did you think?” A gravelled request.
“I thought you really wanted me.” She swallowed, her throat moving visibly with the movement. “I thought you wanted me as much as I want you.”
He dropped his hands to his side, seared by her words. “You were not wrong.”
Emboldened, she closed the small gap between them, lifting her hands to his chest. “Then why are you freezing me out like this, Malik?”