They didn't sleep through the night
The auction gala had ended, but its echoes clung to them ; the sharp looks, the veiled remarks, the card slipped into Tariq Aslan's hand like a dagger. In their suite overlooking Siraj's glittering coastline, the silence was no longer soft. It waited, heavy with expectation.
Zahra Az-Zubair sat on the edge of the couch, her veil unwound and resting on her lap. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders ; a rare sight, with a look on her face, one she offered him only when truth demanded it.
"I am ready to tell you. Please don't stop me"
Tariq stood by the window, nodded at her, his jaw tight, the card still in his hand.
Ask her what she left behind in Doha.
He turned to face her, not with accusation, but with quiet resolve.
" Are you angry?"
"I'm not angry, of course not" he said, assuring her. "Tell me in a way I will understand."
She nodded slowly. "You deserve to."
A long breath.
Then she began.
"Before I married Harith... before I returned to Nuradrah, I lived in Doha for almost two years."
She didn't look away as she spoke. Her voice was clear. Measured.
"I went there to escape the noise. After my first husband passed, the grief wasn't what broke me ; it was the eyes. Everyone in Nuradrah looked at me like I'd become a symbol. A perfect widow. Quiet. Composed. Wrapped in mourning."
She paused, her gaze distant.
"I couldn't breathe. So I left."
Tariq moved closer, sitting beside her.
"In Doha, no one knew my name. I used my mother's surname. I rented a small apartment, volunteered at a women's foundation, and worked anonymously with two startups needing early funding."
He raised an eyebrow. "You were investing?"
She smiled faintly. "In my own way. Quietly. No one knew who I was. Not even the founders. But one of the companies... it took off."
Tariq waited.
"The founder name was Nadim. He wanted me to go public with the backing. He asked questions I couldn't answer without revealing my past. So I told him the truth. Not all of it, but enough."
"And?"
"He proposed," she said softly.
Tariq blinked. "What?"
"It wasn't romantic," she added quickly. "It was strategic. He thought marrying me ; the mysterious widow with silent wealth would legitimize his empire. He wanted power, just like Harith did. He promised love, but offered a contract."
"Did you say yes?"
Zahra shook her head. "I disappeared. Overnight. I left everything; the apartment, the business shares, the identity."
She looked down at her hands.
"But he's the one who's still bitter. I'm sure that message tonight came from someone tied to him."
Tariq was quiet. Thinking.
Then he asked, "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because I didn't want you to see me as someone who runs. Or someone who manipulates. I've lived so long behind choices made in survival, I forgot how to share the ones made in fear."
Tariq took her hands.
"I didn't marry a perfect woman," he said. "I married one who survived a thousand expectations and still chose honesty over silence."
Zahra exhaled shakily.
"I want to stop hiding," she whispered.
"Then stop," he replied. "I'm here. I'm not leaving."
She leaned into him, her forehead against his chest.
For a long time, they just stayed like that; no more words, no more secrets. Just the closeness of two people who had fought their way to each other.
---
The next morning, the headlines across Siraj read:
"Nuradrah's Widow Speaks: Zahra Az-Zubair Confirms Past in Doha" 'I hid to survive. But I will not apologize for surviving.'
The interview had been pre-scheduled ; a rare one-on-one feature she had agreed to days before the auction gala. It was supposed to be about business.
Now, it had become something else.
A reclaiming.
By mid-afternoon, the online commentary was split. Some praised her. Others doubted her. A few dragged Tariq's name into the fray, questioning his role, his background, his relevance.
"Let them talk," Zahra said as they walked the palace gardens later that day. "They've always talked."
"But now," Tariq said, "you're choosing what they talk about."
She smiled, slipping her arm through his.
They passed a bed of blooming white roses, and for the first time in days, the silence around them felt like peace.
But just as they returned to their suite, another message awaited them. It was slipped beneath the door, unsigned.
Doha wasn't the only secret buried. You're being watched.
Tariq looked at the note.
Zahra looked at him.
And this time, they didn't say a word.
The Rooftop Stillness in Siraj
The city of Siraj hummed gently below, its lights flickering like stars turned upside down. From the rooftop of the old stone villa where they were staying, the skyline stretched endlessly; minarets silhouetted against the navy sky, the desert breeze brushing through lattice screens and linen drapes.
Zahra stepped out, the folds of her cream abaya rustling softly as she moved. She hadn't removed her scarf entirely, only loosened it at the nape, allowing the night air to cool the heat that still clung to her.
Tariq was already seated near the edge of the terrace, barefoot, his blazer tossed on a nearby chair. A brass lantern glowed faintly between them, casting amber ripples over the rooftop rug.
She approached quietly, settling beside him.
"You didn't say much on the way back," she said.
He looked over at her, his gaze thoughtful. "I didn't want to speak over your silence."
Her throat tightened. "Sometimes I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to. I'm not keeping account."
She smiled faintly, grateful for that. For him.
She pulled her knees close to her chest. "I almost started telling you something earlier. Something heavy."
Tariq turned, fully facing her now. "Then hold it till tomorrow. Or next week. Or never—if that's what you want."
"But..."
He gently shook his head. "Zahra.. whatever weight you're carrying, I'm not here to demand it from you. I want to be a place where you can set it down. At your pace. In your way."
The breeze picked up again, lifting a lock of her hair from beneath her scarf. Tariq didn't reach to tuck it away. He just... watched her. With a softness that asked for nothing and offered everything.
"There are people," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "trying to make me feel like I am always one step from being a mistake."
"I know," he murmured. "And they're wrong. Even if they scream it in a thousand languages."
Her eyes shimmered in the lantern light. "Why do you trust me?"
He smiled slowly. "Because I've seen how you move through pain with dignity. Because you still choose mercy over bitterness. And maybe because... I've already started falling in love with your silences too."
Zahra looked down, her breath catching.
"And I've come to stay," he added, voice quiet but firm. "Unless you don't want me."
She reached for his hand and there was no hesitation this time. Just stillness. Connection.
"I want you here, Tariq," she said. "Even when I don't know how to say it. Even when it seems like I don't I want you wherever I am. You give me strength.."
He squeezed her hand gently.
"Then I'm not going anywhere. Neither do I want to."
And above them, the stars over Siraj shimmered quietly bearing witness to a bond that needed no fireworks to feel like light.
Cliffhanger
An old enemy isn't done yet. As Zahra and Tariq begin to rebuild their truth, a new threat emerges from within the palace itself ; one that may not come for their money or love... but for their lives.