QAIS

Chapter 42: Poison or Honey

The rain splattered against him, soaking into his clothes as he walked down the street. The droplets seeped into his skin and he didn't even seem to care that he'd left his coat behind.

With not a single soul around, the darkness seemed to swallow him whole, as if the world had held it's breath with him. He didn't know or care where he was heading, his gaze transfixed on the glimmering patter of the rain on the asphalt, and his mind, well, his mind...where was it?

Pasha who had been told of his strange take-off by the guards had come rushing out of his sleep. The jeeps traced and retraced the empty streets in the pouring rain.

Finally, he saw him.

Sitting at a bench the younger was utterly drenched top to toe, water dripping from his damp locks and falling over the azures that held an excruciating turmoil.

Pasha's own heart was straining with all sorts of thoughts as he approached him. Had Layla finally told him everything? Had he found out about Zaviyar?

Despite his fear of the younger's reaction he was not able to leave him alone. Whether it was duty that compelled him to do so or the state of the younger he did not know.

Standing by his side he silently shielded him from the torrential downpour. Not a word dared to form on his tongue. He was faced with his own terror. Qais would kill him for sure, and Pasha believed that was warranted, but the fact that the betrayal would also kill the younger inside was what bridled him.

After a long tortuous while where Pasha had built up the courage to come clean, the young lord finally whispered against the pattering rain.

"She asked me to marry her."

The bodyguard snapped to him, greys flickering with surprise.

For some reason the sentence filled him with more dread than happiness. It suddenly hit him that Layla had chosen to believe them over Zaviyar. Guilt clawed at his insides like a monster awoken out of slumber. That innocent, innocent soul.

"And what did you say?" He asked with bated breath.

There was a pause. "Nothing."

"Aren't you happy?" Pasha asked, gauging his reaction.

"I'm barely awake." The rain-soaked lord answered.

What kind of a dream was this? Was it even a dream? Was it a test? Or was it pity?

It must be a test. To open the gates to heaven and see if a sinner like him would dare step in. Or was this some form of twisted pity? But who would pity the likes of him? Who would pity him and not her? Surely it was a test. Layla who didn't have an ounce bad in her, and him who hadn't even crossed the path of good. Surely His justice couldn't be so cruel.

He glanced at his empty hands in his lap. He was once told greatness lied in the lines of his palms, but Qais had seen everything he touch be withered to ruins. Was she the greatness he'd been waiting for, or was she just another unfortunate destined to be shattered by him?

What does a man do when all his dreams come true all at once? He prostrates in happiness. He runs mad through the streets. He laughs or cries and sometimes both together. Then how wretched must this man be who remained as silent as a drowning leaf, only looking at the sky with disbelief.

Pasha watched warily as he glanced out of the glass wall of his hotel suite towards the direction of downtown. The servants rushed to bring him warm towels and hot beverages but he hadn't uttered a word since returning. It was after a long while that the silence of the firewood burning was finally broken by his whisper.