Chapter 17 · Untitled Chapter

Bandar did not reach for his finjan. The small porcelain cup sat cooling on the low brass-edged table between us, the pale cardamom brew untouched since the deadbolt had fallen into place. Outside, the corridor was entirely soundless now; my uncle’s footsteps had long faded into the carpeted expanse of the main gallery, leaving behind only the distant, muffled hum of the central air.

A single chime cut through the stillness. It came from the low table where Bandar’s phone lay resting against the brass edge, its screen dormant.

He did not flinch, nor did he rush. With deliberate composure, he extended his right hand, lifted the device, and checked the notification. The cold glare illuminated the hollows of his cheekbones and the rigid collar of his white thobe as his dark eyes moved across the glass, tracing line by line what had arrived through the secure corporate portal.

I remained standing near the arched recess, my abaya hanging straight and unruffled around my frame.