Loved Not

Her name - 3

Her name - 3

Prince Akil Zaid Fouad slid into his car, a bottle in hand. The unexpected turn of events filled him with wonder and a thrilling rush, one that was different and exciting.

At 25 years old he was a successful businessman, a billionaire with a string of companies to his name and thousands of employees under his payroll.

With an exterior of a carefree noncommittal playboy, effortlessly charming with his rugged appeal, drawing women willing to be part of his fleeting escapades. He never kept mistresses—too much commitment for a man as himself. His internal self —a true royal, was ruthless, and quite the calculating egocentric.

As Prince and heir to the throne, his parents had wanted him to be married at 23 years, a demand that had led to his flight and they hadn’t seen him for three years. Not until his recent sudden appearance, after receiving assurances that the threat of marriage was no longer hovering over his head. But in truth, he had only returned due to the flailing health of his beloved grandmother whom he dotted on.

That evening, he had gone about his usual routine of traveling through the city, enjoying a calming drive as he casually took in the developments that had occurred in his absence and pondered modern measures that could be put in place. He had been in his homeland for nearly two weeks now, and he couldn’t help the occasional emptiness and boredom he usually felt. Growing up privileged and intelligent enough to forge a path for himself, he had seen almost everything or so he thought. Accruing to the fact that there was no plausible explanation for what he was experiencing.

In the evening coolness, slowed walks, noisy chatter, and the roar of motorcycles, a sprinting blond had caught his attention. It could have only been boredom because ordinarily he had no cause to be interested in any woman, let alone one who appeared unrefined. She could not be categorized as the city’s progress, merely a distraction from his purpose. Yet, curiosity got the better of him and he had gone after her to douse that curiosity.

Now he was seated on his bed, gripping the bottle of water, his fingers tightening around the plastic as if pressure alone could extract the answer. His intent glare fixated on the pristine walls of his magnificent gold furnished bedroom.

His mind retraced every detail of their brief interaction. What was her name? He could see her face, hear her voice, even recall the exact tilt of her head when she smiled. The name tag- he remembered its placement, just above her lovely boobs, but the letters blurred in his memory.

He squeezed harder. The answer lingered just out of reach.

“Your Highness! Your highness! Prince Akil the Queen requests your presence” a maid stood at his open bedroom door, her head deeply bowed in respect.

A look of irritation flittered across his face at the abrupt intrusion. Rising from his bed, he fixed her with a displeased gaze.

“Is privacy so easily discarded in this palace?” he said in his voice that did not mask his annoyance “Next time, knock properly.” Without waiting for a response, he strode past her, his annoyance still lingering.

He knew well that the palace staff were efficient and well trained. He was merely in an irritable mood.

Walking through the vast expanse of decorated space embellished in gold furnishings, he listened for voices and knew his mother wasn’t on the same floor as he was. She was usually very chatty around this time. He took the flight of stairs down not wanting to use the elevator to save him more time to reflect, but the source of his reflection was sparingly lost on him as his mind became a blank canvas taking in more voices than usual - they had guests.

The golden chandelier looked to be mocking his irritable mood as he tried to plaster a charming smile on his face. His younger brother Mohamed was the first face he saw, before he was faced with the beaming smile of his mother, seated beside his father the king, his Aunt and Uncle were also present. Thankfully his cousins weren’t with them. He kissed his parents on the cheeks, and turned to his relatives “Uncle Nazif, Aunt Sara. What a pleasant surprise!”

“Little Akil” his Uncle exclaimed as he drew him in for a warm embrace. A reminder that he could never outgrow family. With greetings out of the way, and a playful ruffle of his younger brother’s hair, Akil settled at the table. He was lost to the conversations around the table, subtle “hmm” here and there as he zoned out and focused on clearing his plate.

His brother tugged at his shirt, bringing his attention back to the conversation at the table

“Of course, borderline trade relations has been faring well. Some of the improvements are visible in the economy of our nation” Nazif responded to the King

The Queen, watching her husband closely, tilted her head. “Dear, as important as this discussion is, can it not wait for your office?”

Causing both brothers to share a look of understanding.

“I deeply apologize my darling” the King said with a warm smile.

Nazif’s eyes glistened with happiness as he shifted the subject “On a lighter note, the purpose of our visit is to announce the twins betrothal. They are bethrothed to be wed soon. A visit of them and their bethrothed to the palace is to be arranged.

“Delightful news” the Queen clapped her hands in excitement.

“Congratulations brother” the King said.

Uncle Nazif turned to Prince Akil, “we trust that your visit is not short lived. Your cousins had hoped to join us, but I suggested they visit midweek so you would all have more time together.”

“Of course. I will be present, and look forward to an introduction to their bethrothed” he spoke through his teeth, just as Teta was wheeled in.

“So I heard, a fine match for them. The families are honorable, and I have no doubts about this union. I had always imagined one of your children would forge ties with the Kader family. Akil has refused to wed, so this is all good” Teta said.

“Mother” King, Queen, Nazif and Sara said in unison left for Akil and Mohammed who gave a respectful bow.

Teta got out of her chair, holding a stick to support her movement as she settled into a seat. The servants quickly set her meal at the table, her meal which was different from ours considering her health requirements

“What’s with your faces? Is it now strange for me to have a meal with my children” Teta said giving a stern look.

Making Father chuckle, and Uncle Nazif shake his head. She obviously didn’t want to be seen as fragile—because she never had been. Illness was not a word she entertained. In her mind, she was merely aging, nothing more.

Scarlet

Akil could see it clearly. That was the name on her tag, he wouldn’t forget it. A feeling of pride crept in at his memory recollection, same time he subtly excused himself from the table and headed to his chambers.