“They will come to the wedding, however,” he says.
“I believe so. My father’s situation is . . . um . . . complicated.”
“More than complicated,” he says with his usual sincerity. “There’s a good chance he’ll be arrested, Madeline. I had all the information about him brought to me.”
“You did?”
“He’s the father of my future wife. Of course I did.”
“And what did you find out?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. We were living in a bubble. I only became aware of the bankruptcy when my mother told me that I couldn’t stay in the London apartment for long because the bank would take it. There’s nothing left. Even the bank accounts are frozen.”
“Are they in need of anything?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but I don’t think so. My father has been lying for years. I have no idea what’s going on in that house.”
“Do you want—”
“No!” I almost shout, horrified because I know exactly what he’s going to say. “Thank you, but no. I’m not with you for your money.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But many people will think that.”
He excuses himself from the table and stands up, looking annoyed. I know the reason. Kamal likes to have everything under control, even something that is none of his business, like my father’s situation.
I know they are not destitute. What my mother is complaining about is having to cut back on most luxuries. But perhaps it’s time for her to face the real world.
I follow him to the entrance of the tent. He has his back to me, and the rigid muscles on his shoulders show tension.
“You’re angry,” I say.
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “Compromising is harder than I thought.”
“Really?” I ask, stepping in front of him to look at his face.
“Especially when it involves you.”
I’m very tempted to explain why I don’t want help. However, the last conversation I had with my mother, in which she insulted Kamal, then tried to convince me to ask him for financial help, makes me feel too ashamed, and I don’t want tooffend him by repeating what she said. “Why do you care about my parents’ situation?”
Nothing in his expression reflects the warmth that led me to paradise here in the oasis. The Kamal looking at me now is the same cold man who told me in London that he doesn’t stay with a partner for long to avoid creating unrealistic expectations.
His statement only proves that he’s miles away from me right now.
“Because I don’t want anything to hinder the development of my heir. If you’re worried, it will affect the pregnancy.”
I take a step back, as if I have been physically attacked.
His heir.
That’s all he cares about.
How could I have been so stupid as to delude myself into thinking he cared about me?
“Is that the only reason?” I ask with a thread of hope, but when his gray eyes meet mine, I know I won’t like what I’m about to hear before his words even come out.
