Even after so many years, peace did not come. Because she knew stories like hers didn’t end in silence. They just freeze.
And this lull was coming to an end. He appeared unnoticed. Zahar ibn Rashid is the heir of Tariq.
A man with an icy gaze, black eyes, and innate nobility. He was thirty-five. He had desert blood in his veins, but he was educated in London.
Discreet, intelligent, and fluent in five languages, he has been watching from afar for seven years. He did not come when his father fell, did not attend the funeral and was not present at the announcement of the will. But now something has disturbed his peace.
The silence bothered him. A woman hidden in the heart of Spain, inaccessible, untouchable and rich. Saqr couldn’t accept this story.
Old Tariq, who died on the night of his wedding with a nineteen-year-old girl, and she, who received part of his fortune. It all seemed unfair to him. It was a clear morning when he first arrived in Cádiz.
He rented a black car and set off alone along the road passing through the vineyards. Southern Spain looked peaceful from the outside, but inside it was filled with anxiety and weariness. He was wearing a light-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, severe trousers and an expensive but not flashy watch.
His face remained serious, focused. He stopped in front of House A. The gates were locked, and there were cameras around the edges. One of the guards was watching from a distance.
Saqr sat with the window down and his hand on the steering wheel. How can I help you? the guard asked dryly. I would like to speak with Ms. A, Saqr replied, pronouncing the words clearly with a firm accent.
She doesn’t receive guests. I Saqr. Ibn Rashid.
The guard swallowed, rang the bell quickly, and returned. She doesn’t want to see you. Saqr just nodded, didn’t insist, slowly put the car in reverse and drove off, as if it had been planned in advance.
And it really is. He understood that he would not be able to reach her with an ordinary visit. I knew it was guarded.
If he expects answers, he will have to act differently. Ayla didn’t sleep well that night. Something was wrong.
Strange energy at the gate. A slight tension in the air. She felt a presence.
It wasn’t a reporter. The next day, Saqr checked into a hotel just three kilometers away and used an assumed name. He began to follow.
Where? She buys bread when the guard changes. How often does she go out into the garden? The most amazing thing was that she lived completely alone. In the hotel room, he recorded everything, took photos, marked the time, recorded the details.
It wasn’t an obsession, but a carefully thought-out strategy. He was trying to figure out who this woman was. She looked distant, but with a blank look.
She seemed strong, but she never left the house, she looked guilty. Or did he want to believe it himself? For the first time, Saqr questioned his version. She held the cups with both hands, avoided making eye contact with the men, and her shoulders were constantly tense.
It didn’t resemble the behavior of a greedy adventurer. On the fourth day, he noticed her in the store. She was distracted, picking apples.
Saqr almost came over, but stopped. I felt that there was not just a mystery in front of him, but a real mine. One wrong step and everything will collapse.
But he didn’t leave. After an unsuccessful visit to the gate, he stayed nearby. Calmly and with calculation, he began to appear in the same places.
The same bakery, the same supermarket, the same path where she walked in the evenings. I felt his eyes on me, even when he pretended not to look. But she didn’t say anything to the guard, the neighbors, or herself.
She knew who he was and why he had come. In the third week, Saqr knocked on the door. He looked immaculate, shaved, in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a light jacket and polished shoes.
I’m not out for revenge, he said when the guard tried to stop him. I heard it, but I didn’t come down. I need to talk.
No cameras, no charges. Ten minutes. I just want to know the truth.
Silence. The guard slowly closed the gate. Saqr didn’t argue, turned around and left, but reappeared.
And more. And again. She began to wonder if he was really looking for answers or if he was just trying to confuse her.
That Saturday afternoon, she was in the garden watering the lavender. Saqr came up from the fence. Beautiful flowers, he said, nodding slightly.
She didn’t react in any way, continuing to water the bushes. I just want to understand, he said. And only you can explain it to me.
I turned off the water and looked at him for a few seconds. What is it exactly? Do you want to know? She spoke for the first time. Saqr walked slowly closer to the fence.
Did you have some kind of, you and my father, romance? he asked. Anya answered. But her expression didn’t change.
No surprise, no irritation, just silence. Have you touched him? He continued. Or did he touch you? She turned away and directed the stream of water at the plant again.
Saqr remained standing, taking a deep breath, as if counting to himself. That’s ten. And did you propose the will, he finally said.
She let go of the hose. Are you done? So far, yes, he replied. For today, yes.
He took a step back and left. He came back the following week. But this time he didn’t, say anything, just left the basket by the door.
Some fruit, mint tea, and an envelope with a postcard. I don’t want to scare you. I just want to understand what my father saw in you, wrote Saqr.
There was no answer, and she kept the basket. In the following days, there were brief, almost casual meetings between them. A nod from a distance, remarks about the weather, a glance a little longer than usual.
And in every movement, Azahir noticed something that made him more and more confused. She didn’t look indifferent. It wasn’t cold.
She looked like a person with inner pain. And it turned out to be more difficult to accept than any accusations. Accidentally.
Saqr was in Seville that day, dealing with legal issues, but his thoughts were still not there. In the evening, when he returned to the hotel, he felt exhausted and stressed. He was exhausted by the way A.I. was running away from all the questions, glances, the truth.
She was reserved, distant, as if she was shutting herself off from the whole world. In the hallway, he accidentally overheard a conversation between the receptionist and the maid. She’s weird, isn’t she? I’ve never seen this woman laugh.
And it’s not surprising, after what they say happened to her, that nothing happened. That he died without doing it? They say it has remained untouched. Saqr stopped.
The women noticed him. I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t know you could hear. Who said that? he asked.
The nurse who examined the body. He says he was clean, as if nothing had happened. Saqr said nothing and left.
The next morning, he arrived at the gate earlier than usual. I need to talk to her, he told the guard. This time she allowed it.
He was waiting for her in the garden. She was sitting, covered with a light sheet, with, a cup of tea in her hands. Saqr approached confidently, but there was no longer indignation in his gaze, but something heavier.
Really, he asked bluntly. There was nothing between you and my father. She looked away, raised her cup.
What’s the difference now? It’s huge. Then no. Saqr frowned.
He didn’t touch you. Are you saying that you had an official marriage? Is that what you want me to hear? Yes, I want to know the truth. But she got up from the bench, calm, restrained, and came closer.
Yes, the marriage was official. That’s what you wanted to hear. Saqr looked her straight in the eye.
Swear it, I swear it, she replied, without looking away. A few seconds of silence passed. Then she said softly and firmly, then prove it, and froze.
Her gaze wavered. A moment. And Saqr saw it.
Fear, doubt, a blush rising up my neck. She was not a skilled liar. She mastered the art of silence.
I have nothing to prove, she finally said. I just said that it was. And if it was, it means it was in the past.
Saqr stepped closer. She didn’t back down. Because if you didn’t, he whispered, you wouldn’t have the right to inherit.
You don’t need to remind me. I know what’s at stake. Then why lie? She took a deep breath, looked up at the sky, and spoke in a voice filled with pain and protection.
Because sometimes the truth doesn’t save anyone. He paused. Her face remained stony, but her eyes were broken.
And at that moment, Saqr felt something he hadn’t expected at all. It wasn’t anger and rejection. It was a feeling of guilt and incipient desire, because he was beginning not just to be interested in this woman, but to long for touch.
And it burned. In the following days, Ayla pretended that everything remained the same. She continued watering the flowers at the same hours, boiled the water, and stepped on the stones of the garden to the right temperature, as if she were floating in her silence.
But her whole being has become more alert, tense. Saqr didn’t show up for three days. Not a single basket of gifts, not a note, not even a hint of provocation.
She should have been relieved, but instead she was worried. On the fourth day, at noon, he came unannounced, wearing black clothes. The shirt fit snugly, there was no jacket, without a hint of officiousness.
There was depth in his gaze, and his face seemed closed. She saw him from the terrace and came down slowly. Have you come for an answer again? she asked in the garden.
No, not for doubts. She frowned. Saqr took out an old newspaper clipping and showed the headline.
A Spanish woman received the sheikh’s inheritance after a mysterious wedding night. Did you spread this? he asked. She froze.
I read the headline as if for the first time, but I knew it, reread it before, absorbed every line. Not me, she replied calmly. But it was beneficial to you, he insisted.