as bright as fresh blood. He meant to thrust the blade into Javid’s chest, right through the X he’d sliced there.
“No!” Javid bucked. Twisted. Squirmed. He couldn’t get free. He was going to die.
“Zahir!” Their father’s voice resounded in the murky attic. “What is this madness?”
Zahir scrambled off Javid. “Nothing, Father. We were playing war. Javid lost.” Zahir gathered control of his expression, his manner and voice now contrite, humble—as though he hadn’t meant to kill his brother.
But Javid knew. He shoved up on his elbows, struggling to drag in a deep breath. His ribs felt bruised. The cut on his chest burned. But it was a deeper pain that immobilized him, a wrenching sadness, a sense of great loss, a disjoining of some vital part of himself, as though the dagger had plunged into him and severed the blood cord between himself and his twin.
No apology could heal the wounds inflicted this day.
He and Zahir were no longer allies, but enemies. From here on out, Javid must watch his back.
Chapter One
Chicago—present day
July
“I won’t lie to you, Ms. Mohairbi.” Dr. Elias Forbes’s long face seemed even longer this afternoon, his slanted eyes grayer, as solemn as his tone. He tapped his pen on an open file folder. “Your mother’s condition is deteriorating. The sooner she gets that heart transplant, the better.”
Miah clutched her hands in her lap, reminding herself to breathe. Her mom’s name had been on the national registry for ten months now, but so far no donor had turned up with Lina Mohairbi’s rare blood type. All they could do was wait and pray as precious time, time she might not have to spare, slipped away.
“Should I be preparing for the worst?”
“Well, now, I can’t—”
“Darling, don’t put Dr. Forbes on the spot,” her mom said, interrupting the doctor.
The door to the examining room had opened so silently, Miah blinked seeing her mother standing there. Lina Mohairbi crossed the elaborately appointed office in this exclusive section of Chicago on Lake Shore Drive, touched Miah’s shoulder with affection and settled her tiny frame on the neighboring chair.
As the doctor repeated for Lina what he’d told Miah, Miah considered the pair, thinking it odd that though this man held her well-being in his hands, her mom could not bring herself to call him by his first name, as though she believed keeping their relationship formal somehow preserved or increased his surgical skills.
But Miah knew Elias Forbes was just a doctor. A better doctor in every way than that cold-blooded jerk at the neighborhood clinic who had treated her mother like one of the mannequins she used to dress in Macy’s windows—before becoming too ill—instead of a living, breathing woman who deserved compassion along with a diagnosis.
Thank God, Fate had stepped in and given them the means to afford this doctor whose credentials were impeccable, who kept his patient load small these days in order to pursue other interests, professionally and privately, in his spare time. She’d been assured he was the best surgeon for the job. Lina’s best chance of surviving. Worth every cent he was costing. But she liked what she’d seen with her own eyes, in particular his concern for her mother and his attention to detail.
Miah shoved a thick lock of long ebony hair from her cheek. “I was trying to get the doctor to give us an idea of how much longer we should expect before a donor comes available.”
“Well, now—” The doctor started once again, tapping the pen with renewed vigor as though punctuating the point he hoped to make. “That’s just it. We could have one tomorrow. Or next week. Or—”
“Next month,” Lina added. “Or the month after that.”
The doctor winced, and Miah’s stomach dipped. His dour expression confirmed her worse fears. Her mom was rapidly running out of time. Miah wanted to scream. Instead, she gave herself a mental slap. Panic would serve nothing. Only depress her mother. Frighten her. Stress her out. Weaken her ailing heart more. Miah had to stay positive. Upbeat. No matter what.
“Miah, Dr. Forbes is giving you his best guess. That’s all he can do. We knew from the start that my rare blood type was a factor. But on the upside, it also puts me on a much shorter waiting list. So, we’re going to live for today. Enjoy every moment we have together and leave the donor up to God.”
“That’s the attitude, Lina,” the doctor said. “At all costs, continue to avoid stress.”
Avoid stress, Miah thought with bitter irony. Six months ago, the clinic doctor had prescribed that very medicine. And as though he’d been predicting disaster on the horizon, stress arrived on their doorstep within days of the warning—striking like a tornado. But with the tornado had come the wherewithal to secure this doctor, and his care had managed to keep her mom stable through all of the heartache and all of the joy; even too much good news could bring stress.
No more extremes, Miah determined. She would see that stress stayed far from her mom in the days ahead.
“Oh, one thing more, Doctor.” Lina scooted to the edge of her chair. “Will I be able to travel overseas at the end of the month?”
“No, no, no.” He glanced up from her chart, shaking his head. “It’s out of the question. Not only should you avoid flying, you need to be near the hospital should a donor become available.”
“Oh, of course.” Her mom looked chagrined, as though just remembering the doctor had already told her this a while ago.
Miah wondered if the heart problem was cutting off or short-circuiting some of the blood circulation in her mother’s brain, affecting her memory a bit.
“Don’t frown, Me-Oh-Miah,” her mom said, teasingly calling her by the pet name she’d used since as far back as Miah could remember. “I’m not happy about missing your coronation and the royal wedding in Nurul either, but that’s okay. It has been an incredible and lucky time for both of us, darling. It’s no good to be selfish. To want more.”
But Miah did want more. So much more. She wanted her mother’s heart healed, healthy. But if her mom wasn’t going to survive, wasn’t going to be lucky enough to find that special donor, Miah didn’t want whatever time they had left shadowed by negativity. She covered her mother’s tiny hand with her own much larger one, feeling these days as though she were the protector, the parent, and forced a grin.
“All right. I’m smiling. See?”
“That’s better, darling.”
As the doctor wrote something more in her mother’s chart, Miah and Lina sat in silence, holding hands. Miah wrestled with the inner struggle that consumed most of her days lately. Last winter, she and her mom had been getting by paycheck to paycheck. Then the tornado had swept in, picking up their lives and spinning everything around and around, then counterclockwise, so that when the dust settled, nothing looked the same.
The unpredictable winds of change had dumped on them a golden rainbow, a key to utopia. Wealth beyond their wildest imaginings. Of course, there were conditions attached, but experience had taught her early on
