Fickle

Chapter 12

The hospital room smelled sterile, a mix of antiseptic and something faintly metallic. Hudayfah sat on the edge of the bed, his small frame wrapped in a blanket that seemed too big for him. Kulthum adjusted the strap of his backpack, her hands moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had spent years in medical settings.

“You’re all set, sweetheart,” she said softly, brushing a hand over his hair.

Hudayfah nodded but didn’t speak. His eyes lingered on the doorway, where a shadow loomed—a presence that unsettled Kulthum as much as it steadied her. Abdullah stood there, silent but unyielding, his gaze fixed on the boy.

“I’ll carry that,” Abdullah offered, stepping forward and gesturing to the backpack slung over Kulthum’s shoulder.

She shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

“Kulthum,” he said, his voice lower now, “please.”

Her fingers tightened on the strap before she relented, handing it to him. He slung it over his shoulder with ease, his movements deliberate, as though he were trying not to disrupt the fragile peace between them.

Hudayfah spoke for the first time since waking. “Can we go now, Mama?”

“Yes, darling,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

As they walked out of the room, the weight of the past few days pressed down on all of them. Hudayfah’s sudden illness, the frantic calls to specialists, the desperate need for a blood donor—Abdullah’s unexpected arrival at the hospital.

And then the revelation.

Kulthum hadn’t been prepared for it, hadn’t been ready to hear the truth she had known all along: the twins were Abdullah’s.

The fabricated evidence that had torn them apart years ago no longer stood in their way. The DNA test, conducted as part of the hospital’s protocols after Abdullah’s blood donation, had shattered the lie in an instant.

Now, as they stepped into the cool Minnesota air, the tension between them felt heavier than ever.

“I’ll drive you home,” Abdullah said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Kulthum turned to him, her expression hard. “That’s not necessary.”

“It’s not about what’s necessary,” he said quietly. “It’s about what’s right. Let me do this, Kulthum.”

She hesitated, torn between her pride and the practicality of his offer. Finally, she nodded, ushering Hudayfah toward the sleek black SUV parked nearby.

Jenna was waiting inside, her mischievous grin faltering when she saw her brother’s pale face. “You okay, Huddy?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“I’m fine,” Hudayfah murmured, sliding into the seat beside her.

Kulthum climbed in after them, and Abdullah rounded the car, settling into the driver’s seat. The silence in the car was thick, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine as they pulled out of the hospital lot.

“Jenna,” Abdullah began after a moment, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Look after your brother, okay?”

“I always do,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest.

Kulthum turned her gaze out the window, unwilling to meet Abdullah’s eyes in the mirror.

When they reached the apartment, Abdullah turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out. Instead, he turned to Kulthum.