Fickle

Chapter 48

The late autumn air in Minnesota carried a crispness that felt both unfamiliar and comforting to Abdullah as he stepped out of the airport. His arrival was unannounced—a deliberate choice. He wanted to return not as a Crown Prince but as a father and husband seeking to mend what had fractured.

The soft hum of activity inside the house came to a halt when the doorbell rang. Jenna was the first to reach the door, her wide eyes lighting up when she saw Abdullah standing there, holding a modest suitcase.

"Daddy!" she shrieked, launching herself into his arms. Abdullah caught her easily, his heart swelling with emotion as he held his daughter close.

Hudayfah appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression unreadable. He gave a small nod but didn’t move forward.

Kulthum emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. The sight of Abdullah at her door, disheveled but resolute, momentarily rendered her speechless.

"Abdullah," she said softly, a mixture of surprise and apprehension in her tone.

"Kulthum," he replied, his voice steady but tender. "I’m here to fix what I broke."

Jenna took to Abdullah’s return with open arms. She insisted on showing him her latest drawings, chattering nonstop about school and her friends. Abdullah listened attentively, marveling at her boundless energy and warmth.

"You haven’t changed," he told her, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Still my little storyteller."

Jenna beamed. "You’re staying this time, right?"

Abdullah hesitated before nodding. "That’s the plan, Jenna."

Hudayfah’s reaction was more reserved. While he didn’t outright reject Abdullah’s attempts to connect, he kept his responses brief and his distance evident.

During dinner, Hudayfah sat quietly, observing as Abdullah helped Jenna with her food and engaged in easy conversation with Kulthum. The warmth in the room was palpable, but Hudayfah seemed reluctant to let it wash over him.

Later that evening, Abdullah found Hudayfah sitting alone in the backyard, his gaze fixed on the stars.

"May I join you?" Abdullah asked gently.

Hudayfah shrugged but didn’t protest. Abdullah sat beside him, the silence stretching between them.

"You’re a lot like your mother," Abdullah said after a while. "Thoughtful, observant. It’s a strength."

Hudayfah glanced at him, his guarded expression softening slightly. "Mom says you’re busy a lot."

Abdullah nodded. "I was. Too busy. But I’m learning now what really matters."

Hudayfah didn’t reply, but the tension in his posture eased. It was a small step, but Abdullah cherished it.

Watching Abdullah interact with the children stirred a whirlwind of emotions in Kulthum. She saw glimpses of the man she had fallen in love with—the attentive father, the compassionate listener. But beneath the surface lay a chasm of unresolved pain and mistrust.

When the children were asleep, Abdullah approached her in the living room.

"Thank you for letting me stay," he began, his tone earnest.

Kulthum folded her arms, her gaze steady. "You’re their father, Abdullah. They deserve to have you in their lives."

"And you?" he asked, the vulnerability in his eyes catching her off guard. "Do I deserve to be here?"