Chapter Six

The chilly breeze wove through my hair as I stepped out into the datrk courtyard, inhaling deeply. The vast courtyard stretched before me, bathed in silver moonlight, but all I could feel was the suffocating weight pressing against my chest. I took in a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions that threatened to drown me.

My phone buzzed in my palm, and I glanced to see another missed call from Derek.

The seventh one since noon.

I clenched my jaw, staring at the screen. I should answer it, or send him a text.

But what would I say? That I lost control of my life again? That I am now trapped with very ties I severed years ago due to my foolish decisions? 

The regret burned through me like acid, it ached so deep it threatened to choke me. Maybe I should have never come back. Maybe if I had ignored Darian in the store that day, I wouldn't be here now. 

"Zara, dear, you're still awake at this hour?" I turned at the familiar voice, finding Grandfather's lawyer, Mr. Ali, walking towards me with his wife's Farah's support. His wise, aged eyes studied me carefully, and I knew before he spoke that he could see the turmoil written all over my face.

I forced a small smile, running a hand through my hair. "I couldn't sleep."

Mrs. Farah guided him to a swing chair, and as he settled, he gestured for me to come closer. Reluctantly, I stepped forward, lowering myself onto the seat across from him. His eyes studied me, searching beyond my silence, and I looked away.

"Your countenance looks heavy, child," he said finally, his tone gentle but knowing. "What weighs on your heart?"

"I'm fine, it's nothing" I wanted to say, but the words stuck on my throat.

Maybe it was the night's air, or the exhaustion, or the fact that someone noticed. It loosened my resolve, and instead I let out the words I wanted to force down.

"I regret everything," I whispered, bringing my knees to my chin. "I should never have come back"

Then, it all came crashing out.

"When the Sultan ordered my exile, it felt like a death sentence. I was broken, I thought I wouldn't survive on the ship I boarded. The hunger pangs couldn't compare to the pain I felt, and the days blurred till I landed at Amsterdam. I was alone and lost, but I still didn't die." I let out a bitter laugh.

"From then on, I decided I would find a way." I continued, "And I did somehow. I built a life of my own and put myself together. Now after four years, he shows up suddenly and everything shattered again."

I inhaled sharply, wiping the tears from my cheeks with force. "Even now, it's still Darian who holds control over my life. Back then, I had no choice. And now, I have no choice either."

The courtyard was silent after that for a long moment, my words settling like an unspoken truth. Finally Mr. Ali sighed, exchanging side glances with Mrs. Farah.

"Do you really want to hear our opinion?" He asked, and I hesitated, then nodded.

"Farah and I feel you have never been more in control of your life than you are now," he said simply, and she nodded.

I shook my head, about to argue, but he continued.

"Four years ago, when Faizal returned from his treatment, he learned what had happened. He was furious with the Sultan and refused to speak to him for months. I had never seen him so disappointed in Darian."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart clenching painfully. "He was angry?"

"Yes," Mr. Ali nodded. "But one day, he let it go. I asked him why, and he said something I will never forget."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "He told me: 'She is finally free. From birth, her path was chosen for her. She was forced into a marriage, into a role, into a life not of her choosing. But now… now, for the first time, she gets to choose. Even if she chooses to die, at least it will be her own decision.' "

I stilled, my breath catching as Mr. Ali's gaze met mine. My vision blurred as his words wrapping around me like a vice. Grandfather had believed I was finally free. That I was living on my own terms. That I had broken the chains.

And yet, here I was, still fighting against the past, still allowing it to dictate my actions.

"B-but, I am here against my will." I stated begrudgingly, and his shook his head with a smile.

"You came to Akhar because you chose to honor Faizal's memory," he countered. "You demanded a separation ceremony. You stood before the Sultan and made your own terms on where and how you will live for the next few days. That's way more than you would have done four years ago, don't you think?"

My eyes widened as I stared at Mr. Ali in disbelief, and Mrs. Farah chuckled lightly beside him. She squeezed my hands gently. "You have the ability to choose now, dear. And the choices you made so far are not wrong."

"The Sultan, his family, your past… none of them matter anymore, dear. You have already changed the story." She stated, and I exhaled shakily, her words sinking into my bones.

"But you need to prove it," she added softly.

I lifted my gaze, meeting hers.

"You need to prove it," she repeated, "not to them, but to yourself."

Something shifted inside me.

A quiet realization.

I had returned to Akhar as an exile. A woman who had been cast out, humiliated, and forgotten. Now I won't leave with my head down, that's for sure.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the burden on my chest lift, just a little.

"There's only one way now," I murmured, straightening my spine. "And that's forward."

Mr. Ali smiled approvingly. "That's the spirit."

"Thank you, Mr. Ali. Ma'am," I said, bowing my head to them slightly in respect. "Your words have given me immense encouragement."

He nodded, standing up with the help of Farah to walk in and I bade them goodnight. A soft breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying the scent of jasmine in the air and I took in a deep breath.

As I stood up to return to my room, my phone vibrated in my palm. It was a message from Derek.

"Ana, pick up the damn phone. Whatever is happening over there, I have a bad feeling about it. Call me. Now."

I clutched the device, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

Tomorrow the will would be read, I would make my stand known.

And then, I would be free.

Wouldn't I?