“At the time you conceived,” he clarified.
If she’d been in a cooler frame of mind, she might have reconsidered what she was about to confess, but impatience was running her brain. “At any other time, if you must know. You’re the only guy I’ve ever slept with. There is literally no way for any other man to have fathered a child with me.”
His body grew noticeably still, as though every muscle had frozen in place. Silence fell, a silence strained by her words, and by Zafar’s obvious reckoning with them.
“Anyway,” she mumbled, her anger dissipating, embarrassment overtaking her. “I went to a doctor to get the test results confirmed and yes, I was officially pregnant. I started taking multi-vitamins, booked in with an obstetrician, began to make plans for our future,” she lifted her shoulders. “The normal stuff.”
“The normal stuff,” he repeated quietly, pouring another coffee into his cup and offering a juice to her.
She took it only to settle her scattered nerves. The taste was instantly familiar. She remembered it from when she’d first been in Abu Qara – orange, grapefruit and pomegranate. “Thank you,” she murmured, placing the glass down in front of herself.
“You must have had mixed feelings, given the state of our relationship.”
“Or lack thereof,” she responded crisply. “I did, but then, it wasn’t really about you. This baby is their own person. While you’re the father, my first thought was for the child, and the logistical difficulties I might face in providing the best possible life for them.” She ran her hand over her stomach, feeling the roundness there. Her eyes were distracted, as she remembered the stress she’d felt purely in terms of navigating those more practical considerations.
It wasn’t in Zafar’s nature to evince sympathy, but she saw it in his eyes, for the briefest of moments. He leaned forward, placing a hand over hers. “I know this isn’t your dream scenario. Marriage to me is a sacrifice I wish you didn’t have to make. But I am glad to be able to alleviate any material concerns you might have had. You will never need to worry about money, Amelia, nor about providing our child with anything they require.”
“I know.” Emotions drenched her, so she angled her face away, focussing on the gold damask curtains across the room. How could she tell him that raising a baby wasn’t just about material concerns, though? Would their child have everything he or she needed emotionally?
“What was it like, growing up as the heir to the throne?” She asked, pivoting her gaze back to his.
Was she imagining the reserve in his gaze? The way his jaw squared? “I’m sure Farrah has told you about royal life.”
“She has,” Millie conceded. “But that’s her experience, not yours. I’m asking you. After all, your place is unique. While Farrah was raised a princess, she always knew the throne wouldn’t be hers. I imagine that’s a unique pressure to grow up with?”
“It’s a privilege,” he responded, his tone short. Why? What about this line of questioning was making him uncomfortable?
Even as a nineteen year old who believed herself in love, she’d always been halfway to intimidated by Zafar. It was impossible to be near him and not feel his natural authority, not bend to it. Yet a lot had happened in the last four and a half years; Millie wasn’t that shy teenager anymore. She firmed her resolve, refusing to be scared off the line of questioning. “Is it? Have you always felt that way?”
He reached for a bowl, scooping fruit into it, his eyes on the gesture. “I never questioned it,” he remarked eventually. “I was born to this role, raised to respect it. There was never another option.”
“But if there had been?”
“That’s not how it works.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is something you need to reflect on, Zafar. You’re expecting our child to take up that mantle, to live with that responsibility from the day they’re born. Don’t you think your insight could benefit them?”
His eyes flashed to Millie’s. “In what way?”
“I don’t know. Just soften the ground a bit, I guess. You’re the only person they can talk to about this, the only person who’ll understand their unique lifestyle.”
“Are you worried about the role they’re to assume?”
“I hadn’t been. But then, it’s not something I understand. Hence why I’m asking you: what was your childhood like? Or, if you don’t want to answer that, what will our child’s life be like?”
He placed his fork down beside his bowl, his nostrils flaring. “I suppose the main difference, initially, will be the public attention. Naturally, there is a great deal of focus on royal children. There’ll be some media interviews at first – I can do these if you don’t wish to – and then, once the baby starts attending events publicly, there’ll be a lot of public response. Crowds of people will gather, paparazzi will want photographs.”
Nerves shot through Millie. “Paparazzi,” she responded, numb. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
“You’ve been out with my sister, haven’t you?” He prompted, a wry grin changing his face completely, reminding her of the man she’d fallen in love with.
Millie nodded slowly. “I feel so stupid. I mean, yes, when we go out to restaurants like The Ivy, there are photographers there. I just never really connected the dots. But you’re always in the press, so of course…”
“Am I?” He prompted, his tone silky.
She felt as though she’d made an admission without realising it, showing that she’d noticed his presence in the society pages, perhaps showing that she cared way more than she should.
“So Farrah tells me,” she said with pursed lips.