Nahia knocked softly on Amira's door. She knew the housekeeper liked to end her days in peace, reviewing the staff reports, far from the palace commotion.
— "Who is it?" asked the gentle voice behind the door.
— "It's Nahia."
— "Come in, my child."
She obeyed. And as always, the moment she stepped into that room, a part of the weight on her chest eased.
Amira looked up from her papers and smiled at her. But her smile quickly faded.
— "What's wrong, Nahia? Have you been crying?"
— "No… no, I'm fine," she replied, lowering her eyes. "It's nothing serious. I just came to ask if… you could reassign me."
Amira's forehead creased. She set her papers aside, giving Nahia her full attention.
— "Reassign you? Why? Did something happen in the Sheikh's quarters? Did someone speak to you badly?"
— "No. No one did anything to me, I swear. It's just that… I don't feel comfortable there anymore. I'm distracted. I'm afraid I'll make a mistake. Maybe another post would suit me better. Something simpler… for a while."
Amira stared at her in silence. She knew Nahia better than anyone here. She knew when the young woman was avoiding a truth. But she respected her silences.
— "I'm no fool, you know. But if you don't want to tell me, I won't force you. You're like a daughter to me, Nahia. So if that's what you want…"
She paused, then added with a hint of lightness:
— "Besides, we're not likely to run out of work. Sheikh Assad is sending a delegation tomorrow to the Al-Rami estate to officially ask for Zeyneb's hand. A wedding is about to be arranged."
Nahia's heart cracked—clean and sharp.
She no longer felt her legs. Her breath caught. Everything inside her collapsed.
But she forced a nod. A smile. Mechanical.
— "Thank you… Thank you for everything, Amira."
She turned away, leaving the room before the housekeeper could see the breakdown in her eyes.
---
Outside, beneath the great fig tree, Nahia stopped. Far from everything. Far from him.
She inhaled. Deeply. Very deeply.
Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She had been fooled by glances, by silences, by a laugh shared at the edge of a lake. None of it had meant anything… except to her.
Assad was going to marry Zeyneb.
And she was nothing.
But she wouldn't cry. Not for him.
She would focus on Amaya, give her a better life. That's what she was fighting for. Not for a man she should never have loved.
From now on, if she crossed paths with him… she would look away.
He would never see her again.
Not ever again.
---
The next morning, the palace had transformed. Rumors spread through every corner. Even the most reserved servants couldn't contain the news: at dawn, a delegation had left the Sheikh's wing, richly dressed, carrying chests of silks, perfumes, jewelry…
A marriage proposal.
Sheikh Assad was going to marry Zeyneb Al-Rami.
In the kitchens, the women were already bustling around, preparing a meal for the delegation's return. The young maids exchanged dreamy glances. The older ones, however, withdrew into resigned silence.
Nahia said nothing.
Amira had reassigned her to the royal gardens. Far from the Sheikh's quarters. Far from him.
She worked with an almost cold rigor. Cut. Water. Clean. Repeat.
Don't think.
But every burst of laughter, every whispered word about Zeyneb's beauty, every murmur of envy carved a little deeper into her heart.
Assad was going to marry. And she had to learn how to breathe differently.
When the delegation returned at the end of the day, the news broke: the Al-Rami family had accepted.
The engagement was sealed. The wedding would take place in less than a month.
The entire palace was about to dress in celebration.
Nahia, meanwhile, kept watering the white lilies.
Tears burned behind her eyelids. But she would keep her word.
She had said she wouldn't cry.
And she would hold on.
Even if, deep inside, a crack was widening… and threatening to break her.
---
The sun had barely filtered through the mashrabiya when Sheikh Assad left his office. His mood was dark, his gaze hard.
The morning had been heavy. Two stewards summoned. Plans reviewed. Everything felt hollow.
She hadn't come.
Nahia.
No soft footsteps. No familiar fragrance. Not even a glance.
He tried to convince himself it didn't matter.
But when he entered his quarters, he stopped cold.
A young woman was kneeling near the cushions.
— "You are…?"
— "Amina, my Sheikh. The new maid assigned to your quarters."
His heart skipped a beat.
— "And Nahia? The one who used to handle this before?"
— "I don't know, my Sheikh. It was Lady Amira who assigned me here."
Assad nodded. Not another word.
He entered his bedroom and closed the door.
And clenched his fists.
She was gone.
She had asked to be reassigned. He was sure of it. And why? He didn't need to think long.
That moment. That gesture. When he had crossed that line… He thought she understood. That they shared something. That after the lake, the laughter… something had changed.
But she was gone.
And he had no one to blame but himself.
He repeated to himself that it was for the best.
Again. And again.
He finally stood slowly.
He forced himself to regain composure. There was no room for feelings, no space for regrets.
The only thing that matters is saving my father.
The rest… the rest can wait.
And without even realizing it, he had just lost the only thing that had made him want to live again.