Page 14 of Knot Their Safe Haven
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm tired of orbiting, qalbi. Tired of being apart. The movement passing changes things. The world is shifting. Maybe it's time we shift with it."
"Adyani—"
"I've been officially pardoned by my family. The price of my silence about certain royal indiscretions. I'm free to travel, free to be who I am, free to..." she pauses, and I hear her take a breath, "free to claim what's mine."
Claim. The word hangs between us like a blade.
"I'm not yours."
"No? Then why do you keep that white rose I sent three years ago pressed in your journal? Why do you wear saffron perfume when you miss me? Why do you touch yourself to my voicemails when you think no one knows?"
My face burns.
"How could you possibly?—"
"I know you, habibti. Every tell, every habit, every secret desire you think you hide so well."
"This isn't fair."
"What isn't fair is watching you punish yourself for being an Omega. For having needs. For wanting to be loved the way you deserve."
"I'm about to hit menopause, Adyani. My body is literally telling me my time is up. Gray hairs, hot flashes, the whole biological clock screaming that I missed my chance. How is that fair to you? To any of you?"
"Gray hairs?" She laughs, and it's not mocking, just fond. "Qalbi, I've been going gray since twenty-five. Royalty ages you. As for the rest—do you think I transitioned to have children? Do you think that's what defines us?"
"It defines Omegas."
"It defines what society thinks Omegas should be. You've spent forty years proving them wrong about everything else. Why stop now?"
Because I'm tired.
Fighting is exhausting…and sometimes I just want to be held and told it's okay to stop being strong.
"I should go. It's late, and I have an early meeting tomorrow."
"Velvet."
"Yes?"
"????. I love you. In every form, at every age, in every way. That won't change when you're forty or fifty or ninety."
I have to stop myself from sighing because though her words mean the world to me, it also hurts because we know the truth.
We’re always going to be at a distance…
"???? ????. And I love you." The Arabic rolls off my tongue, learned years ago just to be able to say it back to her. "But sometimes love isn't enough."
"It is when you stop fighting it."
We sit in silence for a moment, just breathing together across continents.
"Laylat saeidah, habibti. Goodnight, my love."
"Sweet dreams, qalbi."
The line goes dead, and I'm alone again with my chaos of papers and empty bottles.
