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)
“I’m damn well accusing you,” Malik growled.
Vanna stood up, crying out, “Enough, both of you!”
But neither of her sons appeared to even hear her. Chairs overturned in a loud crash as the two young sheikhs shot to their feet, fury stamped on their identical features.
“She’s a child,” Malik bit out in Rami. “I’ve never once treated her otherwise, and for you to try poisoning her against me—-”
“I never said a single word, you fool,” Altair snapped. “But if she’s doing this on her own—-”
“I said, STOP IT!” Vanna burst into tears, and the sound made both brothers whiten in silence.
Kyria tore out of her seat and ran to the older woman. She threw her arms around Vanna and started crying. “I’m s-sorry, Mama, but Papa said I should do it.”
The silence grew worse.
Vanna slowly pulled away. “W-what do you mean Papa said you should do it?” she whispered. “Is he here?”
Kyria stopped crying long enough to give Vanna a reproachful look. “Mama, I’m not joking.”
Vanna laughed and cried at the chiding tone. She knew it was silly of her to hope that even the ghost of Hadwin would still be with them, but oh.
She missed him so badly.
Sitting down, she wiped her eyes and asked Kyria, “What do you mean then?”
“When Papa was at the hospital,” the girl whispered, “he told me that when he was gone, I should count for 39 days.”
The adults in the room frowned. Thirty-nine? Malik tried to find meaning in this number as either a Ramilian or Greek but couldn’t think of any. Why the hell had Hadwin chosen that particular number?
“On the 39th day, he said there was a Ramilian superstition about evil spirits coming to the house of the grieving.”
Vanna blinked. “Is that so?” She had grown up hearing all sorts of Ramilian stories, but had never once heard of such a thing. And besides, Hadwin was Greek. Had her husband made all this up? And if he had, why?
Kyria nodded gravely. “He said that the spirit would try taking Altair first. I didn’t really believe it when he told me, but then he also said that the spirit would make Malik unreasonably angry so when it happened, I knew I had to do everything Papa said.”
The two sheikhs slowly sat down.
Vanna took a deep breath. “And what else was it that he asked you to do?”
“He said that I should keep talking to Altair and not to anyone else so that the spirit understands I’m not going to let go of Altair if it tries to take him away. That I should even sleep in Altair’s room and protect him from nightmares—-”
Malik and Altair looked at each other. Hadwin had pranked them from the grave—-
“I’ll know if I succeed when you start to cry, because it means the spirit’s gone.” Kyria gave Vanna a teary smile. “And you did.”
Malik was the first one to laugh. And soon, Altair was, too, and even as Vanna started crying again, she was laughing, too. Oh, my love. You knew, didn’t you? Hadwin was the one that kept them together, and when he was gone, they had started to fall apart.
Her eyes closed, and oh, she could have sworn that she felt her husband touching her cheek.
I knew, my love.
She wept harder.
And that’s why I got a little angel to look after all of you while I’m away.
Vanna took Kyria into her arms. I miss you, Hadwin. I miss you so much. And as Hadwin’s little angel hugged her back, it was almost as if she could feel her husband’s love through it.
“Let’s all sleep in your big brother’s room,” Vanna said when she pulled away.
Altair groaned.
Kyria’s eyes widened. “We can do that?”
“Of course we can.” Malik glanced at Altair, drawling, “Let’s all protect big brother from the evil spirit.” His voice was mocking, but his eyes were suspiciously wet.
And when Altair smiled at his younger brother—-
“Airafi.” Fuck you. But his voice was just a little gruff.
Vanna took Kyria’s hand. “Let’s go up.”
They all slept in Altair’s room, with Vanna and Kyria sharing the bed while extra mattresses were laid out on the floor for her sons to sleep in. She watched her children sleep one by one, and when all was silent, her eyes closed, and in the haven of darkness she heard the faintest whisper—-
Huhm jamil.
She knew she could very well just be imagining her husband telling her good night, but she didn’t care.
I love this family. I love our life. I love you.
Tears fell down her face, but they tasted as salty as they were sweet.
Until we meet again, my love.
But for now, she still had these three to look after.
Seven years ago
Two years had passed since Hadwin’s death. Pain still lingered, but it was more a dull, bittersweet ache than a festering wound. The memories didn’t hurt as much, and sometimes, there were moments – secret, private moments – when Vanna could still feel his arms around her. Strong and gentle, intangible but powerful...it was these moments that gave her the strength to wake up each day, smile for her children, and do what she must.