Chapter 17 · Chapter 17

I took my abaya from the tall cedar armoire near the door of the private wing, letting the heavy black crepe fall over my shoulders until every trace of the room was concealed. I adjusted the tarha over my hair with practiced fingers, smoothing the dark folds against my collar until nothing showed save my face and hands. In the hallway of this house, propriety was not a suggestion; it was an impenetrable wall.

Behind me, Nawaf stood upright in his crisp white thobe, unmoving, the cold stillness of his presence anchoring the quiet air between us. He did not step forward to touch me. There was no need. The five years that had once stretched like an ocean between us had narrowed to this single corridor, yet whatever lay between us belonged solely behind closed doors.

"The threshold is as far as you go," I said quietly, without looking back.

"I know the boundary, Hanan," he replied, his voice level and low. "He is waiting at the courtyard colonnade."

I slid back the heavy iron bolt. The lock turned with a resonant snap that echoed down the quiet gallery.