Rayyan

by Marian Tee

  Even if it meant hurting other people, even if it meant lying to the very person she loved –

  That was how one won in life, and it was for this reason that Cecile ignored all whispers of her conscience as she continued on with her plans to destroy the relationship between the sheikh and her former student.

  She did what she could to deliberately delay her physical recovery, and once in a while, she would pretend to have nightmares so that the sheikh would be forced to stay overnight. And of course, whenever this happened, Cecile made sure to send an apologetic text message to Hyacinth, just to make sure the other girl knew whose bed Rayyan was sleeping in.

  As for the fact that the sheikh made not a single attempt to touch her, well, that wasn’t for Hyacinth to know.

  Rayyan had loved her once, Cecile told herself. He would come to love her again, eventually.

  When Gadi came to Cecile’s house to personally inform Rayyan about Anisah Kahveci being accused of treason, Cecile knew better than to stop Rayyan from leaving her.

  Her eyes tearing up, she whispered, “It’s okay, I’ll be fine on my own.” She saw relief flare in his eyes and knew it was because the sheikh had worried about her making a scene.

  But as soon as he left, she took her phone out and sent Anisah a text message.

  Cecile: I’m so sorry about what happened to Anisah. But please don’t use this as a chance to make a play for Rayyan’s sympathies. He’s the only one I have left, Hyacinth.

  Chaos reigned in the palace by the time the sheikh returned, and Rayyan was stunned and disturbed at how badly things had deteriorated between Hyacinth’s older sister and Tarif, the man she had recently gotten engaged with.

  In the end, seeing the other sheikh unwilling to have anything to do with the girl he had sworn to love and protect, the king had no choice but to transfer Tarif’s responsibility to Rayyan, ordering him to escort Anisah back to her apartment.

  “She shall be placed under house arrest,” Khalil said with visible reluctance, “while the alleged charges being made against her are deliberated upon.”

  Anisah was clearly in shock, and so was Hyacinth, who made not a single attempt to meet the sheikh’s gaze. Rayyan knew he had no right to feel bothered about this, but he was. It was the first time for Hyacinth to deliberately shun him, and he didn’t like it, not one goddamn bit.

  Waiting until all other guards had left, he made another attempt to speak to her, but Hyacinth only shook her head, saying under her breath, “Not now, sheikh. I need to take care of Anisah.”

  And because he knew this made sense, he nodded curtly and left – only to wish he had never gone at all.

  For that same night, an attempt to kidnap Anisah had been made, and her abductors had almost succeeded if not for the palace’s security team inadvertently coming to her aid and Sheikh Tarif finding Anisah within the secret tunnels in time.

  The whirlwind of events had Rayyan’s head reeling, but throughout it, one thought had remained in the back of his mind.

  What if it had been her?

  What if it had been Hyacinth who was kidnapped?

  Rayyan rose from his bed in a fury of movement. Fuck what was right. He needed to see for himself, make sure that Hyacinth was safe and sound. But before he could even reach for his robe, he heard the secret panel sliding open, and then she was there –

  Hyacinth.

  She was in his arms in one second, their lips fusing in a deep, hard, open-mouthed kiss even as he tasted unspoken words of farewell in the tears that slowly trailed down her cheeks.

  God.

  No.

  They made love like time was against them, not even making it to the bed as the sheikh ripped her robe off her and tore her panties away before fucking her against the wall. A strangled gasp escaped her even as she locked her legs around his waist and her hips moved frantically to meet his thrusts, urging him to pound into her even harder.

  She came within minutes, but he didn’t let her go – wasn’t goddamn willing to let her go just like that when they both knew this was all there was left, a goddamn goodbye fuck to last for the rest of their lives.

  As soon as he lowered Hyacinth to her feet, he thrust back into her from behind, and she ended up hanging over the back of his couch, panting and moaning, breasts jiggling in the air as he relentlessly hammered into her.

  “Rayyan, oh God.”

  She tried to crawl up when they finally made it to his bed, but the sheikh was far from done, tossing Hyacinth to her back as he plunged back into her. It was almost as if he wanted to permanently brand her, and the tears started falling down again.

  Stupid sheikh.

  If his love for Cecile Bauer had made him unable to forget the other woman despite having only one summer with her, how much worse would it be for Hyacinth, whose memories of the sheikh went all the way back to when she was four?

  It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known she would fall in love with him then. What mattered was that she loved him, always would, and that love was all it took to taint every memory with the most bittersweet shades of pain.

  Hyacinth slowly wrapped her arms around his neck as the sheikh sank back into her one last time, the heat of his passion flooding inside of her. I love you, Rayyan.

  She hid her face in the crook of his neck.

  I love you so, so much.

  But she just couldn’t take this anymore. Mrs. B. nearly losing her life, Anisah almost being kidnapped – it was like fate was punishing Hyacinth over and over for being such a bitch, and maybe she was being silly and superstitious, but she just wasn’t willing to take the risk anymore.

  Because next time, it might be Rayyan paying the price for her selfishness, and she knew if that ever happened, if something ever happened to Rayyan because she had insisted on keeping her with him even while knowing he loved someone else –

  I love you so much.

  And it was for this reason she had to let him go.

  The sheikh’s cool gaze followed her as she swung her legs off the bed and walked away, all silken limbs and unconscious grace. It reminded him of how Botticelli had envisioned Venus rising from the sea in his painting. It was said that the Greek goddess of love had been a full-fledged woman at birth, one so assured of her beauty and her worth that she had not minded that all people’s first glimpse of her was of her nude body.

  His lips twisted in a caustic smile as he glanced back at the petite woman who had just walked away from him. The indifference she displayed to her own nudity would have done the goddess proud. In fact, the sheikh wouldn’t even be surprised if she turned out to be Aphrodite reincarnate, and truth be known, he almost wished she was.

  That at least could explain his extraordinary obsession with her, and why he felt so damn empty watching her start to dress.

  “You have made up your mind then?”

  She turned to him, her smile cheeky, her voice challenging. “Are you going to stop me?”

  ”

  But her eyes –

  Her fucking eyes were too damn sad, and it was this that made the sheikh slowly shake his head. “No.” He cared for her too much to lie to her. “I will not stop you.”

  A tremulous smile formed on her lips. “Is it weird that I dreaded hearing you say it – but I also love you even more for saying it?”

  He only looked at her, saying nothing, and her smile grew a bit wobblier. How like him to do that, too – the sheikh did so despise wasting words when the situation already spoke for itself.

  Smoothing one shaking hand over her abaya, she took her time lifting her gaze to his, knowing that it could be the last time they might see each other again this way.

  “Goodbye, Rayyan.”

  “Goodbye, Hyacinth.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fuck Being Politically Correct: He Says, She Says was an unqualified success, much to everyone’s surprise, and that included its own two hosts, Hyacinth and editor-turned-partner (in crime) Marwan Bseiso. Lauded for its pioneer
ing format, the web-based series had the two debating about political and social issues, but instead of showing two opposing sides, the pair typically represented contrasting strategies for the same side.

  It was, in a nutshell, definitely not the politically correct thing to do, but it was also for this very reason that the show appeared to do so well, with ratings so high that they rivaled those in traditional media. In just two short months, Hyacinth and Marwan had more than made back the money they had invested in their admittedly risky venture. Aside from purchasing expensive recording equipment and high-end laptops, they had also decided to take a leap of faith by relocating to Washington in hopes of improving their chances of scoring live interviews with the political figures they were most interested in.

  With advertising revenue steadily increasing and additional income coming in from a variety of high-profile speaking assignments, life was looking very good, and it was also guaranteed to look even better after tonight’s award show.

  A representative of Kastein Inc. had contacted them by phone, saying Fuck Being Politically Correct was the company board’s unanimous choice as the recipient of their annual Digital Innovation award. Aside from the amazing publicity, the award also came with a generous sum of money – which was just enough for the two of them to finally move out of their shared flat – a 200 square meter attic that only afforded them second-hand accordion doors to create the semblance of having separate rooms.

  Remembering the look of horror on her sister’s face at Anisah’s first glimpse of her place made Hyacinth smile, and seeing this, Marwan grimaced, saying, “Nice to know one of us isn’t likely to throw up.” All this waiting was just making his stomach feel queasier, and Marwan couldn’t help but look at the backstage door one more time, wondering if maybe it wasn’t too late –

  “Don’t even think about it,” Hyacinth warned, seeing the object of her co-host’s glance of longing. “And how many times do I have to tell you it’s going to be okay---”

  “Easier for you to say,” Marwan hissed under his breath. “You’re used to hobnobbing with the folks outside, but I’m not.”

  “The folks outside are our ticket to Phase 2, so just stop and stick to the script.”

  The cue finally came, and Hyacinth and Marwan stepped out together, both of them dressed to make a statement; her in a two-toned abaya with a cotton belt to cinch the dress around the waist, and Marwan in a suit with a checkered keffiyeh held securely on his head by a double circlet of agal.

  The crowd rose to their feet, their applause thunderous, and despite her own strict reminders about not being emotional, Hyacinth couldn’t help feeling a little overwhelmed by the audience’s warm show of support. It was a very nice balm, she thought absently, to all the heartache she had suffered in the past months – and still secretly cried over.

  Members of Ramil’s royal family and the palace staff occupied most of the front row. There was Tarif and Anisah at the very center, and even Gadi, who waved at her enthusiastically even as he struggled to hold back his tears.

  Dear old Gadi.

  She was glad to see he hadn’t changed.

  Marwan made a desperate gesture for her to come up to the mic and make a thank-you speech, but she shook her head, her gaze sly. It’s your turn to start hobnobbing.

  After shooting her a glare that promised retribution afterwards, her co-host cleared his throat, stammering, “On b-behalf of my partner, I – I mean we – we would, err, like to thank the One Above for His grace…”

  Despite Marwan’s worst misgivings, he ended up executing a near flawless and absolutely moving speech that was guaranteed to have more of the crowd shedding tears and, more importantly, reaching for their checkbooks. When he stepped away from the microphone, she flashed him a thumbs-up. Good job!

  Marwan shot her another mutinous glare in response, but she told herself that was just his way of saying welcome. Turning away, she picked her skirt up to make sure she didn’t trip on her three-inch heels on their way down from the stage.

  But when she looked up, she realized that wish of hers was wasted.

  Rayyan was standing at the bottom step, looking heartbreakingly dashing in a black tux, and in the act of stepping down, Hyacinth forgot what she was doing, and she started to fall.

  “Gotcha.”

  His low whisper as he caught her in his arms was too much, reminding her of the last time he had said that, and things were still too good to be true.

  Her eyes started to sting, causing Hyacinth to keep her head bowed even as he helped her straighten up. “What are you doing here?” she muttered.

  Cupping her elbow, he led her backstage, his footsteps so damn slow it was almost like he wanted the moment to last.

  Oh, if only.

  But she knew that was another pointless wish.

  She tried to pull away as soon as they made it backstage, but his hold on her elbow only tightened in warning, and with so many curious eyes trained on them, Hyacinth knew better than to cause a scene.

  The sheikh brought her to the dressing room she had shared with Marwan, and she was relieved to find it empty.

  Rayyan’s lip curled at seeing the relief in her eyes. “I take it you don’t intend to introduce your co-host to me?”

  Instead of answering him, she asked again, “What are you doing here?”

  “Am I no longer allowed to wish you well?”

  You chose another woman over me, asshole, she thought, so no, that doesn’t give you any rights at all in my book.

  A moment later, she heard his soft chuckle, and this surprised her enough to glance up, just in time to see his lips twist ever so slightly in a smile of self-derision, like he thought himself the butt of his own joke.

  “I heard you loud and clear, majamira.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said automatically, “and I didn’t say a thing.”

  “I know.” The smile widened, the self-derision turning into something else, and pain pinched her chest. “And like I said, I heard you loud and clear.”

  Hyacinth’s teeth gnashed hard at the effort not to let the tears fall. Damn him. God damn him. Goddamn him to hell.

  “You look beautiful,” Rayyan said quietly.

  “Stop trying to charm me, damn you.”

  “Because it no longer works?”

  She almost, almost laughed. Was he fucking serious? “La, alshaykh.” No, sheikh. “I’m saying you shouldn’t bother because it’s pointless.” Because you’re still with her - aren’t you?

  Rayyan’s fist clenched and unclenched against his side at the glassy look in her eyes.

  “I’ll ask you again,” she whispered.

  “Hyacinth---”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because I didn’t think you’d leave just like that,” he grated out.

  “I told you I was leaving---”

  “I thought you meant me, not the fucking kingdom!”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a hell of a difference,” he snarled.

  “Because you want to have your fucking cake and eat it, too?” she snarled back at him.

  “No, dammit---”

  “But it’s exactly like that,” she cried out, “and you know it.” She gazed at him helplessly, loving and hating him, knowing that she could never live without him but also knowing she had find a way to do so.

  “I couldn’t stay, Rayyan. I just couldn’t. I didn’t like the person I became, and it just got worse and worse and---”

  “Stop it.” He gripped her shoulders, unable to bear the self-hatred in her eyes. “Just come back---”

  “And…her?”

  His grip tightened. “I never…it’s not like that between us.”

  “But it will be---”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I do,” she whispered, “but Rayyan…can’t it also just be…me?” Swallowing hard, she forced herself to say the things she had always wished she could tell him. “I knew I wa
s wrong, when I told you to turn your back on her---”

  His hands dropped away from her shoulders, and she wanted to cry.

  “It was selfish and it was evil---”

  “It’s water under the bridge now,” Rayyan said tightly.

  “But it’s not,” she choked out, “because a part of you still hates me for it.”

  “Hyacinth---”

  “And that’s fine. That’s fine. Because it was a stupidly hateful thing to do, and it’s no excuse, but the only reason I did it was because I was just so scared if I let you spend more time with her, you’d realize she was better for you---”

  “I said it was over,” he gritted out.

  “If it’s really over, then just say it! Say it! You hated me---” Hyacinth’s voice broke, and she jumped back when the sheikh swung away from her and his fist struck the wall.

  “R-Rayyan---”

  When he pulled his fist away, his knuckles were bleeding, and she paled.

  “Oh God.”

  She tried to take a step towards him but froze at the look on his face.

  “I did hate you. You were perfect in my eyes, and I didn’t even know I had you on a fucking pedestal until you came crashing down and forced me to ignore her cries for her help when she needed me.”

  Her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.” The tears started to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

  “And now I have no choice.”

  Her eyes flew open, her lips parting in silent shock at what he wasn’t saying.

  “I can’t turn my back on her again.” His voice turned lifeless. “I just…can’t.”

  Oh God.

  Oh God.

  Oh God.

  He loved her.

  But it was too late.

  “Rayyan.” His name broke past her lips just as she watched him turn away. “Rayyan, please…” She choked back a sob. “Tell me what to do.”

  He only looked at her, and the answer was in his empty blue eyes, and she wanted to die.

  “Please.” Her voice cracked. “There has to be something I can---”

  “I can’t leave her,” Rayyan said tonelessly.

  She crumpled as soon as he left, sobbing her heart out, and she was like that when her older sister found her –