He held up a hand to silence her. “My responsibilities go with me, wherever I travel.” He kicked the horse’s sides and the animal backed up further.
“Stay here,” she said angrily. “Stay here and fight for this, Malik. We can make this work.”
His eyes glittered like dark gems in the night sky. “No, sharafaha. We can’t.”
She held her arms to the side with an air of patience that hid the state of suspension her heart had been dropped into. She kept a polite smile on her face when her insides were twisting and tormented by grief and absence.
In the month since they’d argued in the gardens, that moonlit night, she’d seen her husband three times, all at official events.
At first, when he’d left, she’d been furious with him. She’d told herself he’d regret it, that the shock of the pregnancy and the future before them had made him act without thought.
She’d done exactly as he’d said, returning to her own rooms, but she’d been angry. So angry.
And then, after four nights, she’d been lonely, and worried. After six nights, her worry had increased, because she still hadn’t seen Malik. After ten days, she sucked up her pride and asked Awan where her husband was.
Awan had been surprised. The Sheikh was where he always was – in the palace.
Further digging revealed he’d only stayed away one night, before returning.
He wasn’t sleeping in his room.
The first function she’d seen him at, he’d treated her like a stranger. Cordial, polite, touching her minimally, making only the most surface-level enquiries.
She’d been so furious, she’d planned to speak to him afterwards, but he’d had to take the helicopter straight over to another city, for a different function.
It had been the same at their next two engagements.
He looked at her and looked right through her.
“Just a small addition here,” the woman said, running her finger down the side of the dress’s panel. “And no one will notice a thing.”
Sophia nodded, running a hand over her stomach. It was more rounded than she’d expected, so early on. Her sister Arabella had hardly showed in the first few months, but Sophia was already visibly pregnant – to anyone who looked closely – and it was still too early to want to make that announcement.
No doubt the gossip tabloids would speculate regardless – they always were – but Sophia wanted to wait to make a proper announcement.
She’d wait until she’d had the first scan, and perhaps by then, things with her and Malik would have resolved.
The scan came and went. He was there for it, standing beside her, his eyes fixed to the screen with a resolute sense of duty that made her want to shout at him to go away! This was their baby, if the most he could muster was a look of fierce and resentful obligation then she didn’t want him there.
“And you are well?” He asked, when they were alone in her sitting room, the ultrasound equipment wheeled away, the doctor checking results in the kitchen.
She was. She’d been fine. At least, she’d told herself she had been. Two months since they’d argued, since she’d thought there was something between them from which she could make a real marriage. But his question, asked with a voice that was so carefully muted of any emotion, stirred something up inside of her.
“Oh, go to hell,” she snapped, sitting up on the sofa, grabbing the towel to wipe the goo off her stomach. She felt the sting of tears at her eyes but refused to give into them.
She didn’t see the way his features tightened, the way his expression shifted for a moment to one of pure anguish.
“The doctor says you have experienced some nausea.”
She pushed up from the sofa, padding across the room and pouring a glass of ice water. “If you want to know how I’m feeling, ask me, not my doctor.”
“I’m asking you now.”
“But you already know the answer.”
He compressed his lips and she felt like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He simply stared at her, dropping his gaze to her stomach, his eyes flashing with emotions she couldn’t comprehend, and then he turned away, looking towards the windows.
Impatience zipped through her. She crossed the room, moving to stand in front of him, her eyes on his even when he looked past her.