Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Careful with my girl’s heart, boy, Theon had even jokingly threatened him once. I’ll kill you if you break it.
Or at least Malik had hoped it was a joke. And while he would never hurt Kyria, how could he be sure that he wouldn’t do so unknowingly? He had never had a little sister, and neither had his cousins. He had no past experience to draw from—-
But that was what made life fragile as well.
Things you held on to, people you thought you could have forever in your life—-
All of it – all of them – could disappear in a flash, and life didn’t give a damn what would happen to those left behind. Even if it was just a little girl left alone – life didn’t give a damn about that either.
As the pallbearers came to carry the coffins out of the chapel, Malik found himself walking towards Kyria. Her big dark eyes turned to him, and he crouched down.
“Marhava, Malik.” Hello, Malik. Her voice was small but steady, too serious for someone her age.
Vanna had told him that she had yet to see Kyria shed a single tear, and for one moment he could only stare at her, thinking that she was too damn young – too damn small and frail – to have to hold such grief in her heart.
“Marhava, Kyria.” And without thinking of what he was doing, he picked her up, and his chest squeezed as he felt the little girl lean her head trustingly against him.
She remained in his arms throughout the procession, and as her parents’ coffins were slowly lowered to the ground, he said quietly, “You can cry, you know.”
“I know.” Her voice was still toneless, her dark gaze not moving from the caskets that gradually disappeared from their sight.
Vanna approached them, flowers in hand, and he took it from her with a nod.
Kyria stared at the flowers. “For Mama and Papa?”
Silence, and just when he thought he should offer to throw them on her behalf, he heard her whisper, “I’m scared.”
His chest squeezed again. Of course you are. He looked straight into Kyria’s eyes. “Don’t be. I’ll always be here for you.”
Her lips started to tremble. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His voice was fierce.
He let her down, but her small hand remained in his as they walked together to her parents’ graves. Malik handed her the flowers, and she clutched them hard.
“I love you, Papa, Mama.”
The flowers fell.
And so did the tears.
He knelt down, and Kyria threw her arms around him. Her tears wetted the side of his neck, trailing down to soak his blazer, and Malik’s own eyes became wet as he realized what this meant, realized why this little girl hadn’t let herself cry-—
He stroked her back, and she cried harder.
She was afraid that if she cried...she had no one to wipe her tears away and tell her—-
“Things will be alright,” Malik whispered. “I promise.”
Eleven years ago
Dinner in Hadwin’s household was always a noisy affair, uncommonly so, considering they were members of the royal family of Ramil. This, however, mattered little to him. He liked seeing his older son Altair loosen up and talk about video games, even liked the way his wife was now nagging him about taking a vacation with her.
Before marrying the king’s sister and becoming a prince overnight, Hadwin had lived the life of a humble soldier. His joys had been simple, his happiness drawn from the little things such as seeing the sun set, having a delicious meal once in a while, and knowing that he had done at least one good thing for the day. Serendipity could only be to blame for a humble soldier to be assigned as bodyguard to a foreign princess visiting his small island town in Greece, and the rest was history.
Or more specifically, history went the way his willful wife wanted to write it. For her, he had left Greece and moved to the desert. He loved her, and so what she needed, he would give it to her. It was that simple, but most people seemed to find this complex. Even though they had now been married for over two decades, people still asked Hadwin if he cared that neither his sons bore his name, like they truly believed the foundation of a marriage relied on the letters that appeared on his children’s birth certificates.
He was and would always be a simple man. That his boys had to bear the name of Al-Atassi did not make him any less of a father, or them any less of a son. What mattered was his ability to care for them and put their interests above his—-
And he would always give them that.
No matter what people would say, his sons’ happiness would always be his priority.
Hadwin’s gaze rested on the little girl seated at the other end of the table, right next to his younger son.