Chapter 34 · Chapter 34

The heavy iron of the outer courtyard gate remained unlatched behind me, cold and indifferent to the five years I had spent on the other side of it. Beyond the stone threshold, Riyadh was stirring beneath the pale, amber wash of dawn, the morning quiet stretching wide toward the northern ring road. The road was open. Nothing held me there—no council decree, no familial demand, no elder’s signature on an unsettled ledger.

I looked at the open space, and then I turned my back to it.

Nawaf did not move. He stood tall in his crisp white thobe, his bisht draped over one arm, his dark eyes steady and unblinking upon me. He did not extend a hand to persuade me, nor did he offer a single word of pleading. His pride was too deep for desperation, his respect for my autonomy absolute. He waited, letting the choice belong entirely to the woman who had walked away once before.

"The majlis heard what I had to say," I said, my voice carrying clean and level across the stone pavers. "They know the ledger is clear. But what lies inside this house was never theirs to weigh.