Shattered Trust, Unbroken Love

Chapter 57

The twins had finally gone to bed after an evening filled with laughter, stories, and a flurry of questions about Abdullah’s time in Daura. Jenna had insisted on hearing about “all the royal adventures,” while Hudayfah quietly absorbed every word, his expression softening little by little.

Now, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the central heating. Kulthum stood in the kitchen, wiping down the countertops as a way to busy her hands. She had deliberately avoided being alone with Abdullah all evening, unsure of what to say, or even where to begin.

Abdullah leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You’ve done an amazing job with them, Kulthum,” he said, breaking the silence.

She glanced up, startled, then shrugged. “It hasn’t been easy. But they’re good kids.”

“They are,” he agreed, stepping into the room. His presence felt larger than the space could hold, a mix of familiarity and something new—distance, perhaps, or the weight of unspoken words.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kulthum turned back to the counter, running the cloth over an already clean spot.

“I know I should’ve said this the moment I walked through the door,” Abdullah began, his voice quiet but firm. “But thank you, Kulthum. For raising them. For giving them everything I couldn’t while I was—” He paused, exhaling heavily. “While I was gone.”

She set the cloth down and faced him, arms crossed. “You didn’t just ‘go,’ Abdullah. You left. And for six years, I had to explain your absence. I had to be both mother and father to them.”

“I know,” he admitted, his tone raw. “I can’t undo that, and I won’t insult you by pretending I can. But I want to make things right. Not just with the twins, but with you.”

Kulthum blinked, her throat tightening. “And what does ‘right’ look like to you? Do you think you can just step back into their lives—and mine—and pick up where we left off?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t expect that. I know trust has to be earned, and I’m ready to put in the work.”

She studied him, her expression unreadable. For years, she had carried anger, hurt, and disappointment, but now, seeing him standing there—open, vulnerable, and determined—she felt the cracks forming in the walls she had built around her heart.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to trust you again,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t blame you,” he said, stepping closer. “But I’ll wait, Kulthum. As long as it takes.”

Her gaze softened, but she quickly looked away, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. “It’s late. You should get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he said, stepping back. But before he left, he added, “Thank you—for letting me come back. It means more than you know.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Kulthum leaned against the counter, her emotions swirling. She wanted to believe him, to give him a chance. But opening her heart again meant risking more pain, and she wasn’t sure if she could survive that.

The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains in the kitchen as Kulthum poured herself a cup of coffee. The twins were upstairs, their laughter and chatter echoing faintly down the hallway. Abdullah entered quietly, dressed casually but with the same regal air that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice warm but tentative.

“Morning,” she replied, nodding to the coffee pot. “Help yourself.”