Marriage contract with king

Khaled Hashimi

After Alya's birth, she became the center of my universe. Unfortunately, as doctors warned from the beginning, she could be a special girl, and she was. My little daughter, with blonde hair, light and expressive eyes, with a tender look, a prominent nose and white skin, was Dad's pride.

Every day filled my life with happiness, even though his development was a little different from that of the other children. However, every afternoon we followed our routine: I put on her best dresses, combed her short hair, and got ready to visit her mother. Alya didn't understand why we did it, but I always explained to her that Mom was sick and that I should be there for her.

With my little girl in my arms, I headed to the only place that occupied my thoughts lately: the psychiatric hospital. In my mind and in my heart, I had already forgiven Jennifer for anything she had done. There was no room for resentment in me, I just wished that she would be the same as before, so that we could have her back in our lives.

"Good morning, nurse, how are you?" I greeted Dora, the nurse who had become almost a friend over time.

"Good morning, Mr. Hashimi. How is little Alya?"

"All right, thank you. Is Jennifer ready? We haven't been able to see you for almost a week, is there a problem?

"Mr. Hashimi, the doctor wants to talk to you."

A chill ran through my body as I held on tighter to my daughter. The anxiety grew, I feared that bad news was coming, just what I didn't need at that moment.

"What doctor?" I asked, with a sense of unease.

"Mrs. Mackenzie's case manager."

"Thank you very much."

"He's coming, wait a moment, please."

I sat with my little girl on my lap, as uncertainty enveloped me. Everything around me was fading away, what was so important that I should hear? Two minutes later, the psychiatrist in charge appeared behind those doors that had always troubled me and sat down next to me.

"Mr. Hashimi, it's nice to see you. Her daughter is beautiful."

"Yes, it's going to be five years old. I hope Jennifer can cut the cake with us."

The doctor gave me a compassionate smile and stroked my little girl's hair.

"Well, I think it's my duty to tell you that the time has come to let you go, Mr. Hashimi."

"What do you mean by that, doctor?"

"First, I want to thank you for your generous contributions to the hospital. They have been a great help, especially with the addition of more doctors to our team. But I am afraid that it would be selfish of us to go ahead with this process."

"Doctor, please be clearer," I asked, as I squeezed Alya tightly.

"Jennifer suffers from dementia. Gradually, you will lose even the ability to walk. It is a devastating diagnosis. Unfortunately, she no longer knows who you are, or who she herself is. It's a traumatic process for both you and your daughter. Jennifer has become a completely different person, and I'm afraid we won't even be able to afford her daily visits. It has become aggressive, posing a danger to you and the child."

My world fell apart in that instant. What little hope I had left vanished. How could that be? How did we get to this?

"No, doctor, there must be a mistake. No way. How is it possible that she is not well? "

"I'm deeply sorry, but it's time to start over."

With those words, and a more broken heart than ever, I saw Jennifer a couple more times before accepting the inevitable. I swore to her that I would love her all my life, even if she was not really with us anymore. In Arabia, my family was waiting for me, and there was no longer any reason to stay there. With the pain squeezing my chest and my mind shattered, I made the decision to return home.

I took Alya and Doroteo with me, who had become inseparable. I was going to miss the Mackenzies, Sherry, and everything that story had taught me, but it was time to write my own.

***

Six months later

In Riyadh, the days have gotten warmer, and the desert sand seems to burn beneath my feet. Alya is everyone's darling; they treat her better than a princess, because, in essence, she is already the queen of this place. Our mansion, located in the best area, surrounded by lush vegetation and with majestic architecture, gives us the respect we have always had. In our community, we are seen as kings.

"Khaled, can we talk?" I heard the voice of Elihan Hashimi, my father, the old man who gave up being king to preach.

"Sure, father, give me a moment. I'll entrust Alya and Doroteo to one of the maids," I did what was necessary, and then began to walk with him along the long path that surrounds our mansion.

"Son, I have noticed that you have been sad lately. Since you separated from your American wife, you haven't found love again. You know well that you can have up to seven wives."

"Dad, I know that, but I don't want any of them. I swore I wouldn't marry again. Alya will be the queen, and when she chooses her husband, he will be the king. There is nothing more to say."

My father stopped abruptly, and his dark eyes locked into mine, filled with obvious annoyance. The intensity of his gaze blinded me, hurt me, as if he could not understand my decision.

"Khaled, Alya is a long way from us being able to think of a husband for her, probably about twenty years. Meanwhile, this community needs a king, and that king needs a wife. Your coronation will be in the next few days, and since you don't have a wife, your mother and I have decided who it will be."

I felt my blood run cold as I listened to his words. I shook my head, incredulously.

"What!? Dad, I'm thirty-two years old, I'm perfectly capable of deciding who my wife will be. Neither you nor Mom have the right to impose it on me."

"Son, we've talked to your older brother, Raphael. He has also informed us that you left the business that has kept this family full of coffers, and although I know that it is not your priority, it is for the family. I'm not going to let you ruin our name. You will marry the princess of the southern Riyadh community, Sathara Nazal."

"What? They're completely insane, right? I don't plan to marry, much less Sathara. She is a rebellious, arrogant woman, and as a woman she does not attract me in the least. When the time comes, maybe I'll find someone for myself. "

My father looked at me haughtily, with a sarcastic smile that hurt me deeply.

"It's not a question of what you want, son. We've waited too long for you to get married, and you missed the chance to choose your wife. Now, you will follow the designs of our tradition, you will have your marriage, and in two years, Alya must have a brother."

"D*mn it! What if I don't want to, Dad?"

"If you don't want to, you'll be imprisoned for breaking the mandates of our culture. You decide, son."

The word "imprisons" froze my skin. The very thought of leaving my daughter alone made me shudder. There seemed to be no other choice: I had to marry Sathara Nazal, against my will, never mind that my heart still belonged to my beautiful habibi.

Sathara Nazal

I feel his hands run over my skin like a caress that sets my senses on fire, and my body responds instantly, tense. His hands... they are that fantasy that devours me inside, the desire from which I cannot, and do not want to, escape. Without him, I am sure I would not know how to live.

Her lips glide slowly down my belly, igniting every corner of my being until they reach my chest. As I look up, I see his eyes, those diamond-green eyes in the sunlight. Jael, with his night-black hair and cinnamon skin, has me caught in his spell....

"Sathara, my beloved," he whispered. "When are we going to get married? I'm dying to be your love officially."

A shiver ran down my spine, and my fingers slid through his hair, unable yet to reveal to him the plans my father, the great sheikh of the south, had for me.

"Jael, I told you that you and I can never get married. You're different, you don't have enough money for my family to a