Coming Home (English Version)

1. Coming Home

London, Summer of 2016.

Layla

I walk the long corridor of the Carlton Tower, a place that holds endless good memories for the entire family. Passing doors to each side of me as my heels sink in the plush carpet and finally I make it to the double doors at the end of the hallway.

I inhale before knocking but I hear voices coming from the inside, sounds like they're speaking in Arabic, which I'm still quite fluent in, mama taught me and that became our first bonding experience after my parents died.

Should I come back later? My stomach turns simply thinking he might be here, but Maktoum said it was going to be just the two of us. Besides, before coming here I made sure he wasn't even in the UK, I'm clearly losing my mind.

I'm also right on time so I take a deep breath and knock on the door. The talking seems to stop and Maktoum answers my knock.

"Marhaba, sister!" He greets me with open arms and a smile, the unmistakable dark circles under his eyes and a close shaved beard.

I reply with a big grin and my heart warms when I hug him. Maktoum has always been more like a father figure to me, underneath that poker face he carries everywhere, there's a kind and wise man.

"Oh, have I missed you!" I tell him as we break our embrace and that's when I notice the other three men in the room.

"We're so sorry." One of them apologizes. "We were just leaving."

They say good-bye and politely smile and nod their heads at me as they walk out the door.

"Who are they?" I ask Maktoum when he closes the door.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Potential business partners. Come on, sit down." His arm points at the L-shaped leather couch in the living room.

Before sitting down, I fix my blonde hair on the mirror wall and take off the soft pink blazer.

"Do you want to drink something?" He asks me.

"Plain water, thanks."

Maktoum heads to the bar area across the living room and comes back with two bottled waters. It's always a bit weird when I see my brothers wearing jeans, it feels almost like a costume, the kandura will always fit them better.

"How are you? How was the flight?" He questions while handing me one of the bottles and taking a seat.

"I slept through the whole thing."

"The whole six hours from New York?"

I smile proudly. "Yep!"

He chuckles and takes his phone from the coffee table. "Hold on one second." He apologizes without taking his sight from the screen as he begins tapping on it.

I can see the sparkle on his eyes and a small smile starts to part his lips.

"Who are you texting?"

"No one, some work stuff." He shrugs and erases the smile that was there before.

"Maktoum, please! That's not the face of work stuff." I tease.

He laughs and sets the phone down. "Seriously."

"Is there a girl?" I throw him an inquisitive stare. "Tell me about her!"

"No, there's no girl!"

He's lying, I know he is but I also know he will never tell me or anyone else for that matter, so I don't try to push it.