Chapter 3.

I took Rayyan’s hand the moment we stepped back outside. "Let's go," I whispered, though I had no idea where ‘go’ even meant in a place like this.

We hadn't made it three steps before I saw her.

Noura was collapsed over the coffin, her body folded over the polished wood like it might still hold warmth. Her wailing filled the courtyard, raw and unguarded, the kind of grief that strips a person down to something younger and smaller than themselves.

"My son," she cried, her hands pressed flat against the lid. "My boy, my only boy, why didn't you come home sooner, why did you let this happen"

I froze. Whatever anger I still carried toward her evaporated in that moment. I understood grief. I was drowning in my own. But watching hers unfold in front of me, I felt something close to compassion, even after what she'd screamed at me minutes before.

Then she rose.

It happened fast. She grabbed Khalil by the front of his thobe, fisting the fabric near his throat, her face inches from his. "Punish whoever did this to my son," she said, voice shaking with fury now instead of grief. "I want them to suffer the way I am suffering."

Her eyes cut past Khalil, directly to me again.

There was no mistaking it this time. No room to tell myself she meant the driver of the other car, some faceless stranger on the highway. She meant me. She had meant me since the moment I opened my mouth in that sitting room.

Khalil said nothing to her. He simply lifted a hand, and the same four men who'd carried the coffin stepped forward again, lifting it once more, disappearing with it into the depths of the mansion. Whatever ritual came next, I wasn't invited to witness it.

I stood there holding my son's hand, and the full shape of my mistake finally came into focus. Zayn had asked to be buried in London. He'd told me, in the quiet, honest way of a dying man, that he wanted nothing more to do with this family, this place. I'd overridden him because I thought I knew better, because I believed grief deserved a chance to become forgiveness.

I hadn't accounted for the possibility that some families didn't forgive. That I might have walked my son directly into the one place his father had spent his whole life running from.

Amira found me not long after, her face apologetic in a way that didn't quite reach an actual apology. "Come. I'll get you settled for the night, Sophie.”

The room she led us to was large, cool, beautifully furnished, and already prepared. Our luggage sat by the wall, though I hadn't asked anyone to bring it up.

A tray of food waited on the table, still warm. Small gestures that should have felt like hospitality instead felt like surveillance. ‘We already know where your things are. We already know where you'll sleep.’

I waited until Amira's footsteps faded down the hall before I let myself feel the full weight of the fear pressing on my chest.

I wasn't safe here. I didn't know what these people were capable of, and after tonight, I had no intention of finding out. I was leaving.

The suitcases were too heavy, too much to carry quietly or quickly, so I left them where they stood. I grabbed the duffel bag instead, passports, cash, a few changes of clothes for Rayyan, my hands shaking so badly I dropped my own passport twice before shoving it into the bag.

"Mama, where are we going?" Rayyan asked, watching me from the bed, his small face creased with confusion.

"Somewhere better," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Eat first, okay? Just a little."

He obeyed, picking at the food while I moved around the room, alert at every sound from the hallway, every set of footsteps that passed and faded.

I made him change into something warmer. I checked the window twice. I waited for the quiet to stretch long enough that I could believe, even briefly, that no one was watching.

When it finally felt clear, I lifted the window, helped Rayyan climb through first, then followed after him, my heart slamming so hard I thought it might give me away on its own. We moved along the side of the mansion in the dark, past the edge of the fountain's glow, toward the outer wall where the gates had let us in hours earlier.

I didn't see the maid until it was far too late, a figure near the back entrance, pausing mid step, staring straight at us before turning and hurrying back inside.

I grabbed Rayyan's hand and ran.

The gravel tore at my bare feet, but I didn't slow down. Rayyan stumbled beside me, his fingers locked around mine. "Keep running," I whispered. "Don't look back." Behind us, the mansion stood silent and enormous against the night, its windows glowing like watching eyes. I refused to turn around, terrified of what I might see.

We made it through the gates, out onto the open road beyond the estate, the dark stretching ahead of us with nothing but distant lights to aim for.

For one full breath, I believed we'd actually done it.

Then headlights swept across the road behind us, and a car screeched to a stop just ahead, cutting off our path entirely.

Khalil stepped out into the glare of his own headlights.

"And where do you think you're going?" he said, his voice low and cold, cutting through the dark.