Khalifa

49 Traitor

"So you decided to keep me as a souvenir of your past?" she finally speaks, slowly shifting her gaze to him.

He meets her eyes, the look in them both vacant and raw. "Yes," he replies honestly, tersely. "Call it infatuation, obsession, deliration. Whatever name you want to give it. You can call it madness, habibti. But it brought me to my knees. It compelled me to do what I did."

The space between them is small. He's only a touch away, the dark of the night caressing his face and kissing his orbs. His hair is not tied and its long strands fall forward. She would've grazed his cheeks, pushed back his hair, and smiled at him. She would've loved him like she had learnt to before reaching the end of the line. But it doesn't seem possible now.

"So what is this past, sayidi? What is so beautiful about it that you had to make my life ugly for it?"

"Don't do this. It hurts me." He reaches for her but she pulls away. "Noura," he says his name in a soft request, pleading with her. "Please don't do this to me."

"All that is between us is what you did. It was never me." She chuckles sardonically. "What am I against you, sayidi? You're the Khalifa, and I'm a nameless girl from the streets of your kingdom. If you wish, you keep me captive. If you take pity on me, you return to me my freedom. What might do I have when you're the mighty one against me?"

"You're my queen. You're the Malika of my kingdom. If there's no you, I'm a beggar than a king in the streets of Baghdad, hayati." He scoots closer cautiously as if afraid of scaring her off. She doesn't budge and he dares to take her hand into his. "Crown me with your love. Give me the throne of your heart. You're my kingdom and beyond. Make me your caliph, Noura."

She glances away from him, blinking, trying to push back any tears that once more try to break through. Noura bites her lips, no response on her tongue to offer him.

"Noura." He slowly leans towards her and puts his forehead against her shoulder. "Don't leave me. I need you. You soothe my heart. You calm my mind. Stay with me, please."

Her name sounds like worship every time he says it. It sounds holy from his mouth. But at the same time it feels like a caged bird which she cannot free and he doesn't want to free. What frightens her is how sweet the name still sounds from his prison.

"Who are you?" She inhales shakily and shuts her eyes. "Who are you, sayidi?"

"Adam." He lifts his face and she turns hers, finding only a breath distance between them. "I'm Adam to you, Noura."

"I don't know Adam."

"Tell me then that night your eyes didn't speak of love to me," he challenges, reminding her of a tender moment. "Tell me I imagined the look in them-- that you didn't hold me beloved to you."

She purses her lips, not responding, and he proceeds.

"Wouldn't you look at me the same again, Noura? What do I do to make up for my mistake?"

Love is a dangerous thing. Lethal. Catastrophic. She cannot find any anymore stronger word for it. But what she feels for him, it feels like an explosion in her chest. It's intense. She's fears it'll tear apart her heart. She worries her resolve is fragile-- that she cannot resist him if it goes on. He has broken her, bluffed her, and done irreparable damage which cannot be undone. How can she still yearn for him and want to forget? She cannot yet forgive.

"I fell for a man who's not you," she says quietly. "You're not him. And I can never be myself again."

He only stares at her. The world spins around them but they seemingly have frozen in time. He remains unmoving, like a stone statue, and she wonders what goes on behind those deluding orbs. Then the ice appears to thaw and time moves forward. He turns the sands of time and takes her through the past.