He looked away from her, his chest contorting with the force of his feelings. “What choice do I have?”
She pulled a face. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m your wife…”
“Yes, you’re my wife,” he spat, moving away from her, stalking across the room and pouring himself a measure of whisky. “You’re the wife I stole from my dead brother. The woman who should have been his, who should, right now, be growing his baby in her belly. You’re the woman I’ve spent more than a decade ignoring.” He threw the drink back angrily, his expression tense.
“What do you want from me, Sharafaha? Do you want me to pretend any of this is real? Do you want me to act like I don’t know how little this was either of our first choice? You should be married to him! If he hadn’t died, you’d be his wife now, my sister-in-law. Instead, this is our life, you’re my wife and I’m your husband, and we’re having a child together, but I’m not going to pretend…”
“I’m not asking you to pretend,” she cut into his monologue, her expression pinched, her eyes showing her hurt. “I’m asking you to accept that there’s something real between us.”
His eyes latched to hers and the world opened up, swallowing him into the depths of its fiery belly.
“Something real?” He repeated, his voice deep, the words thick.
“Yes, da
mn it!” She glared at him, closing the distance. “You’re not Addan, and this isn’t the marriage I had planned for. But that doesn’t mean what we have isn’t good, and isn’t… enough, on its own.”
“Don’t.” He cut her off, the word like ice. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” She demanded. “I’ve lost too much in my life not to fight for what matters, Malik.”
“To fight for what?” His eyes narrowed, his expression like steel. “Were it not for his death, you would be my brother’s wife. Every time I have touched you, every time I have wanted you, do you not think I knew how wrong it was? Do you not think I felt that betrayal? He has been deprived of so much. He should be King, not me! He should be right here, watching this new life grow inside of you, feeling elated at the prospect of becoming a father. He should be here!”
“Yes,” she whispered, curving her hands over her stomach, her eyes clouding with grief. “I know that.”
“And if he were,” Malik continued, “You would be happily, blissfully married to him. You would be happy.”
“I am happy. I think we could be happy together.”
“I saw you with him,” Malik snapped. “I know what it looks like when you are happy, and it is not this. You desire me. Our bodies are like fire together. That is all. And it is not enough to make a marriage – not the kind of marriage you want.”
“Because you’re fighting me all the time,” she stamped her foot onto the tiled floor. “You and I are great together, but every time we get close, you shut me out again. You refuse to let me in. What are you so afraid of? Don’t you think you deserve to be happy?”
He swore under his breath and pulled her into his arms, bringing her against his body. “I can’t be happy with you, Sharafaha. Circumstances make it impossible. The more I want you, the more guilt I feel. You are in my blood and my mind and yet I can’t see you without seeing you with him – without seeing the pair of you. And I resent him, Sophia, my own brother, because if he were here – alive and breathing right now – you would have chosen him. You did choose him.”
“He was chosen for me,” she said softly, his words making her spirit stumble a little.
“That’s irrelevant. Given the choice between him and me, you would have always chosen him, wouldn’t you?”
She was so quiet, so still, as if frozen in time, torn between love, loyalty and this life she found herself in.
“Don’t answer,” he growled, giving her a reprieve. “We both know the answer. Addan is the man you want, the man you love, the man you wish you could be with even now. I commend you for how hard you’re trying with me, but there’s no point carrying on with this charade. We married for this purpose and having achieved it, we can dispense with the pretence and go back to our own lives.”
“I loved Addan,” she whispered, turning away from him, swallowing once more, moving towards the edge of the bed and sitting down on it. “I adored him.” Salty tears threatened to fill her eyes. She blinked, focussing on her brightly coloured toe nails. “There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of him, when I don’t miss him. When I don’t re-read the hundreds of letters he sent me, laugh at them and cry, wishing he were here.”
Malik’s gut twisted, her words only serving to confirm what he already knew, but oh, how they hurt. “And I am sorry for you, that he died and you were forced into this marriage, with me.”
“Stop it,” she muttered. “Stop.”
“What? Being honest? Do you not think it is time for us to have this conversation?”
“Do you think anyone could force me into marriage?” She glared at him. “Do you think I would have done this if I didn’t know it to be right?”
“Right for who, Sophia?”
She shook her head. “For you, for me, for this country…”
“No.” The word was crushing. “Nothing about this is right, and it never has been. It’s madness. I should have forced parliament to revoke your marriage contract, to free you from this obligation.”