Malika

18 Proposal

"Eskander?"

His jaw contracts at the voice. So does his back. He halts in his tracks but doesn't turn around. Eskander closes his eyes and releases a silent breath. Then composing his expression he turns towards her.

"Amira." He tips his head respectfully. "I'm in a bit of a hurry--"

"You always are." Maysoon smiles dismissively and makes a graceful walk towards him. "It can wait."

She's without her handmaidens. Eskander subtly peers around and finds the corridor to be empty. A vein in his temple throbs in frustration.

"The caliph has summoned me urgently," he excuses. "I don't want to keep him waiting."

"He's with Yusuf right now," she argues back. "It's better to wait here than to wait outside his door."

He wants to say he can wait anywhere but in her presence. He knows it's never safe with her. She's that corpse of his past which he keeps trying to bury, but it keeps ripping its grave and clawing its way out. He knows there's no escape from her but to confront. Eskander ties his hands behind his back.

"Is there something you want to speak to me about, Amira?"

"There's much to speak to you about, general," she replies sarcastically, the smile still plastered on her face, and gestures towards the balcony, silently asking him to join her. Having no other choice, he steps out in the air with her. "I wasn't seeing you around the palace as much as before. I learnt that you've now gotten a house of your own and don't spend your nights at the palace anymore."

"That's right, sayidati."

"In the arms of your wife."

His jaw ticks again, but he refuses to look at her. He keeps his gaze up ahead and holds back any reply. Maysoon turns to him and rests a hand on the handrail of the balcony.

"Tell me about her, Eskander," she demands. "I'm curious as to who is the woman to have convinced you into marrying her when I couldn't. What has she done so differently that you fallen before her?"

"I don't think it's necessary--"

"It is."

"I don't wish to speak about it."

He turns around to leave but she holds his hand. Eskander jerks away from her touch, sending her a look at disapproval. She gives him her own look of displeasure.

"If you were a man, Eskander, you wouldn't run away after what you did to me. But you're not a man."

"Then consider yourself lucky to be ridden of me."

"Easy for you to say when I'm the one being scarred, and you get away untainted."

His shoulders drops in resignation and his defenses shake against the wounded look in her eyes. They're glazed over and he resists the urge to comfort her, but cannot find himself walking away either. He exhales heavily and softens his voice.

"I'm carrying the burden of my sin to this day," he confesses to her. "If you cannot let go of it, go tell your brother. Let him deal with me."

"He will kill you."

"I die every time I look in his eyes. I die remembering what I did behind his back, when he trusted me with you."

"Does your wife know about it?"

His minds freezes, then replays every conversation he had with Laleh. And the conversation before their nikkah. What disclosures took place between them. Unfiltered. Without any lies. His secrets that he splayed in the open before her. And her reaction. Her acceptance. It warmed him.