window toward the Indian Ocean, remembering precious days gone by and how it was all her fault that her son couldn’t enjoy this with her.
* * *
Maazin watched Jeena as she and her team had a quick meeting and then started to move around the makeshift hospital that was set up in an old shanty town, or what was left of a shanty town now that it had been leveled.
Something had bothered Jeena in the van when they’d crossed through that water and he couldn’t help but wonder what.
It’s not your concern.
And it wasn’t. She wasn’t his and could never be his.
Still, he was drawn to her and he was worried that something had happened to her and he felt responsible.
“You all right?”
Maazin turned to see Farhan standing beside him. Farhan looked exhausted and Maazin couldn’t blame him. He and Sara had been working hard to help since the storm had started. Farhan hadn’t been here when Maazin and Jeena had had their torrid and short love affair.
So there was no need to explain it all now.
It was over.
And it wasn’t Farhan’s business.
It was Maazin’s pain to bear.
“Nothing, just...” Maazin scrubbed a hand across his face. “Tired and relieved that help is here.”
Farhan nodded. “So am I. Sara has been working herself to the bone and she needs her rest.”
“Take her back to Huban and get rest. I’m going to stay and help the Canadians and help Kariff unload the medical supplies.”
“You should rest too,” Farhan suggested. “You’ve been working non-stop since even before the cyclone hit.”
“What for? I have no wife and I like to keep busy.”
“You’re going to work yourself into an early grave, brother.” Farhan turned and left and Maazin let out a breath that he hadn’t even known that he was holding.
He glanced back over his shoulder to see Jeena sitting next to a patient’s bed and talking with the elderly woman, who seemed to recognize her.
Why had Jeena left?
“She’s left,” his mother said with finality.
“What?” Maazin asked, stunned.
“Your paramour. She is gone. Now you can do the duty we all must, and marry someone of the lineage to be your bride.”
“I don’t believe you,” Maazin said hotly. “Jeena would never do that.”
His mother walked calmly over to her desk and pulled out a letter, handing it to him. It looked like Jeena’s handwriting.
His mother held it out to him between two fingers. “Read it.”
Maazin snatched the letter from his mother and quickly read the letter. It didn’t sound like Jeena, but it was her writing.
“Where did you get this?”
“Meleena found it.”
“Why would Meleena find it?” he asked.
“Her father has invested in the Harrak plantation and she’s trying to prevent a scandal for a family her father supports.”
Maazin read the letter again and couldn’t believe it.
It stated that she was leaving him because she couldn’t stand being linked to a prince who had a checkered past full of women and gambling. Even though she knew those things weren’t true...even though he had never been unfaithful to her. He’d wanted to marry her.
Maazin crumpled up the paper. “She would never leave her parents. I’m going to find her.”
He turned to leave but his mother cleared his throat and Maazin turned back.
“Her parents are gone too. They left Kalyana with her. This morning, in fact. They should already be in Dubai.”
“Where are they going?”
His mother shrugged. “Who knows? They didn’t tell me. Kalyanese people are free to come and go out of their country as they please.”
Maazin had gone to her parents’ vanilla plantation, which was on the westerly side of the main island. And his mother had been right. They had left and their plantation had been for sale. It had made no sense.
And he’d felt betrayed.
So he couldn’t help but wonder why they’d left and why she was now back. She’d fled in the middle of the night like she’d been afraid. So why had she come back?
At least now he knew where she had gone and what she had done with her life these past ten years. She’d become a surgeon!
He hadn’t expected that.
Why not? You became one too.
“You okay?”
Maazin turned around to see Jeena standing next to him.
“Perfectly,” he said.
She cocked an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yes,” he snapped, and then he sighed. “Sorry. I’m tired. It’s been non-stop since we set up this hospital.”
“I can see,” she said gently, and then tilted her head to the side. “I thought the Royal Guard set up this hospital?”
“They did. I’m part of the Royal Guard.”
Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. “You’re a member of the guard? Since when?”
He wanted to tell her since she’d left and he’d had that drunken night, the night his brother Ali and his wife Chandni had died.
After the funeral he’d joined the guard to give back and try to appease the pain and guilt he’d felt for surviving when they hadn’t.
And when he’d served his first year he’d decided to become a surgeon, to save even more lives.
It won’t bring Ali back.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been a member of the Royal Guard for almost ten years.”
“That seems so unlike you.”
His
