Once Upon a Second Chance (1 Night Stand Series)

by Monodee, Zee

  We still have five more hours to lie together.

  With deliberate slowness, she pulled away. Going on tiptoe, she braced her hands on his collarbones and pressed her lips to his.

  He didn’t need further prompting. He pulled her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her back into the bedroom.

  One more time. One last time.

  ***

  Khalid stirred from deep sleep, a part of his brain registering the sound of the adhan, the call of the muezzin summoning Muslims to the morning Fajr prayer. He glanced at his watch—quarter to four. No matter the time of day or night on the island, the faithful could hear the call for prayer from every minaret of every mosque, sometimes in a cacophony of sound that built one onto the other. That was one of the things he loved about Mauritius—being able to live his faith with every freedom, the same as members of all the other religions present in the population. One could find a mosque, a temple, a church, and a pagoda, all within a block of each other.

  Slinking from under the sheets, he glanced at Leila’s sleeping form. Should he wake her? No, not after the night they’d had. She could always pray when the sun came up. Their lovemaking, as well as the copious tears she’d shed, must’ve drained her.

  What was he to do? If he told her the truth, she would never want to see him again. Better to spare her the pain of knowing he’d seen her as a pawn at first.

  Or was it?

  He didn’t know anymore. It killed him to imagine walking away from her again. When she had murmured the words in the kitchen, as to how this spelled the end for them, everything inside him had squelched and the life had leached out of him. How could he survive without her?

  Faint hints of light started to color the terrace outside. Soon, the ideal time for the morning prayer would be lost.

  And, he reckoned, who else but God could he ask for his deliverance, or his punishment?

  He took a quick shower, and after the ritual of the ablutions, settled down on a carpet in the living room, his head, where he prostrated on the floor, facing the direction of the quibla—the holy city of Mecca.

  By the time he rubbed his open hands on his face to end the prayer, pale sunlight dappled the garden and shimmered off the sea’s surface. The balmy chill of night gave way to the heat of another summer day. Soon, the temperature, especially on the northern coast, would grow to sweltering levels.

  And as he watched the daylight lay claim to the earth, he had his answer.

  He would tell Leila the truth, when she woke up.

  For a few more hours, he could hold her to him and bask in the bliss of having his wife, the woman he loved, in his arms, where it seemed to him she had snuggled throughout the night. Once she knew….

  He refused to think of that. Climbing back into bed after discarding his clothes, he spooned his body against her delicate frame, and, surprisingly, found sleep minutes later.

  ***

  Lying on his side, he awoke to soft lips pressing fleeting kisses against the nape of his neck. He stirred, and she laughed, then stretched her body like a contented, purring cat, every inch of her front brushing against him.

  She’ll be the death of me, he thought as he rolled onto his back and claimed her lips in a drugging kiss.

  Maybe their last kiss.

  He sobered at the thought. He owed her the truth. Breaking free, he sat up.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice broke on a sob. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  He closed his eyes. He’d thought he could do this, but how could he? Asking God for resilience, he set his jaw and inched to the edge of the mattress, where he flung his legs over and let his bare feet touch the cool planks of the floor.

  Please say, I don’t want you to leave. Who was he kidding, though? Such a request would mean nothing until she knew the truth.

  So, he took a deep breath.

  “My maternal grandfather was a renowned construction magnate in Abu Dhabi. A kind and honorable man, but not everyone viewed him in a favorable light. People wished to undermine him, because he was fair in his dealings and refused to siphon money from construction budgets to line his pockets. In the seventies, he met with a few difficulties and took a business partner.”

  He paused to let his gorge go back down. “My mother was my grandfather’s only child, his pride and joy. His partner wanted to join their families through marriage, but my mother refused him. In revenge, that man raped her, and he sabotaged my grandfather’s business until no one wanted to employ him anymore.”

  She settled a soft hand on his shoulder. The touch granted him strength; at the same time it dawned on him that in a matter of time, she wouldn’t be feeling sorry for him and would put as much distance between them as possible.

  “My father took pity on my grandfather, an acquaintance of his, and on my mother. He married her, made her his fourth wife, despite being three decades older than her. They never fell in love, but she remained grateful to him for saving her honor. She stayed loyal to him and bore him two children, me and my sister, Sabah. His other wives despised her, more so because she gave him a male heir, when they had daughters. The only one who welcomed my mother and her children with open arms was Carole.”

  Leila gasped. “She was one of his wives?”

  He nodded. “His third wife. She’s always lived here, in Mauritius, where he would visit her every month. She treated Sabah and I like a second mother would whenever we came to visit, which was often.” He etched a smile. “She always said that, through us, she had kids without ever having to get a stretch mark.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  The moment of ultimate truth. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he turned to face her.

  “My grandfather’s business partner was Bashir Al-Arif.”

  Horror washed over her features, and she covered her mouth with the same hand that had been on his shoulder just before.

  He forced his gut to stop trembling in the face of her realization. “I lived only to see him pay for what he did to my family. I wanted to take away everything he held most precious.”

  He risked a glance at her. Though she remained silent, understanding dawned in her expression.

  I am losing her. His chest constricted, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug her, promise her he’d make everything right. But he couldn’t. He could only hurt her more, with his full disclosure.

  He heard his own voice as if from afar when he continued with his tale. “That fateful day in town, I saw you getting into the car. You turned and looked in my direction. I was struck by one glance from you, didn’t know who this beautiful stranger could be. Sabah was with me, and she told me who you were. Bashir Al-Arif’s English wife.

  “From that moment on, I wanted nothing more than to take you away from him. I needed that bastard between a rock and a hard place, and I achieved my goal when, over the following six months, I bought shares from his empire until I owned fifty percent of his stock. I confronted him, told him I could stay in this position and veto all his decisions until his company came tumbling down.” He paused. “Or he could buy back the shares at a nominal price and relinquish to me his English wife in marriage.”

  Her sharp intake of breath echoed in the room, and she averted her face as tears coursed down her cheeks.

  He wasn’t done yet, though. “The money from his shares? I ceded them to you as the mahr for our wedding. I figured it would be a paltry compensation for the life he put you through.”

  As he’d dug further into his nemesis’s dealings, he’d learned the truth about Leila, and how the man had bought her and her virginity from her father. It became imperative for him to take her out of that misery, but all along, his desire for revenge had burned brighter.

  Until the night in her bed, when he lost the remaining shred of decency he still possessed, the minute he realized he wanted to keep her in his life. One man had toyed with her existence. Who was he to do the same? She des
erved so much more, so he had brought her to Mauritius and left her in the care of the one person he’d trust with his life.

  He didn’t dare glance up at her, and his heart sank further into the abyss when she scrambled off her feet and dashed into the bathroom.

  Even with a whole room between them, he could hear her violent retching.

  He had lost her.

  Chapter Five

  Once she had up-chucked everything in her stomach and the nausea abated, Leila remained on her knees in a daze. The cold from the marble floor danced up her limbs, chilling her muscles, but she could do nothing against the paralyzing horror that spread throughout her system as she processed Khalid’s revelations.

  He had used her. Like a pawn in his game of revenge. She couldn’t believe this of him, but his words implied nothing else.

  And, at the same time, his selfish agenda had torn her from that abusive household and set her free. He could’ve kept her with him, reduced her life to nothingness again, because, as a man in an Arab country, he held her fate in his hands.

  Yet, he’d let her go, even setting her up with the means to start anew. Now she knew where the money for her dowry came from, she couldn’t help but experience a sliver of gloating satisfaction. The pig who had abused her so much had been forced to part with her and with so much money. No more than he deserved—she wished Khalid had finished every cell of his existence.

  The thought sobered her. If she wanted the same thing Khalid had wanted, then she couldn’t be the hurt party in the dealings. She might not have played a conscious, active role in this revenge, but she was glad she had been at the heart of his Machiavellian scheme to get revenge on the man who had ruined his family. She blinked back tears when she thought of his poor mother. Asma Al-Nadir had had nothing but gentle affection and good wishes for her when she had welcomed her into the life of her son after the wedding. How could she fault her husband for what he’d done?

  Drawing to her feet, she went to the sink and rinsed her mouth. After pulling on a gown that hung from the door, she stepped into the bedroom, to freeze on the threshold when she saw him fully dressed and pulling his loafers on.

  “What are you doing?” she managed to croak.

  He looked up, and the naked pain on his face knocked the breath out of her lungs.

  “I expect you’ll want me to leave,” he said in a low voice.

  Angry once again, she stomped toward him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Stop thinking for me. I’ve had enough of men making all the decisions while I sit on the sidelines and watch every one of you toying with my life.”

  “This is not what I wanted—”

  “No,” she forced out as the ache clenched her heart. “You wanted revenge, and you got it.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, before he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to stare at him. “Damn it, Leila. In the end, all I wanted was you!”

  The torn confession hung in the air between them. Silence wrapped them in a cocoon, and the only thing she could focus on was his admission he had wanted her. Nothing but her.

  She blinked. “Why didn’t you ever say so?”

  His grip on her gentled. When he rubbed his thumbs along her collarbones, she shivered with the intensity of the pleasure he coaxed from her.

  “Because I thought you would hate me.”

  Searching his gaze, and seeing all the pain and longing there, she drew closer and placed a hand on his cheek. “I could never hate you, Khalid.” She paused. Dared she say it? She took a deep breath. “I love you.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

  “I’ve loved you since that first kiss, when I knew you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

  “Habib alby,” he murmured.

  He released her shoulders, to travel his hands up her neck, until his fingers buried in her hair. “Ana bahebak, enta heyettei,” he said, before he claimed her lips in a scorching kiss.

  I love you, and you are my life. She reveled in the certitude in the words. How she wanted to gaze up at him, see so much certainty on his beautiful face. She broke from the kiss, and pulled away. In doing so, she caught a whiff of his scent from his shirt, and her stomach rolled.

  Slapping a hand to her mouth, she dashed back into the bathroom where she dry-retched over the toilet bowl.

  He reached her side and brushed her hair back. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  She shook her head. “It’s the tropical heat. I’m not used to the humidity. I’ve been feeling nauseous every morning since I got here.”

  He froze, his hand stilling on the nape of her neck. She darted a glance at him, noting the frown that stretched his features.

  He stood and exited the bathroom. “Wait for me.”

  She wanted to follow him, but sudden weakness from the vomiting forced her to stop next to the bed. In the distance, she heard a car engine start. Where was he going?

  The questions made her feel faint, and she lay down to stop the spinning sensation. She must’ve dozed off, because she awoke to a soft nudge of her shoulder.

  Leila forced her eyes open, to find Khalid kneeling on the floor next to the bed.

  “Where were you?” Aware the query sounded like a whine, she lowered her head.

  “Just go with me on this.” The words rushed out of his mouth.

  “Go with what?” She sat up, and squinted at him.

  “Trust me. If it turns out to be a bust, that won’t be an issue, okay?”

  She shook her head, which brought the nausea again. “You’re not making much sense here.”

  “I’m talking about this.” He reached for something at his feet.

  She sucked in a breath when he handed her a rectangular cardboard box. She blinked, and warded off the tears that threatened to fall. How she wished she could give him a child.

  “You know I’m barren.” She stared at the pregnancy test.

  He cupped her cheek. “Please, just do it. For me.”

  Now, she didn’t stop the tears. With a soft nod, she took the box with her into the bathroom and read the instructions. Pee on the stick—not hard to do. The real hardship would come when only one pink line would emerge on the display. How many times had she faced this state of affairs in the past? The unending two minutes that decided her fate each month.

  But the pain gave way to surprise when a second, thick stripe formed.

  She rubbed her eyes, certain she had imagined everything. The thick stroke still lay there, though, growing darker. In the mirror, her startled gaze caught him watching her from the doorway.

  “This cannot be,” she muttered.

  He moved to stand beside her and aimed a glance at the strip. He frowned, then beamed, his face alight with pleasure.

  She still reeled with astonishment when he pulled her into his arms and crushed her mouth under his.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” he exclaimed.

  No. She couldn’t let herself get all happy, to crash down to the bitter reality afterward.

  Leila struggled out of his embrace. “You know that cannot happen. In ten years, I never got pregnant with Bashir Al-Arif’s child.”

  A shadow passed on his face. “That’s because Al-Arif is sterile.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “Not possible. His second wife gave him a daughter.”

  “There are rumors the girl is her chauffeur’s child, not her husband’s. In all his marriages and affairs, he’s never had any other offspring.”

  The shock slammed into her, and she reached out to grasp the edge of the marble sink to keep from falling. Her head spun, and her body went cold as sweat erupted over her skin.

  “So, I could be pregnant?” Her voice croaked out just above a squeak. Had he had even heard?

  He smiled and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. When he pulled her into his arms again, his sigh rumbled from his chest.

  “I thought your body felt different,” he said. “And then when you said you’d be
en throwing up every morning, I realized it could be morning sickness. I didn’t dare hope….”

  His voice strangled on that last word, and she pulled courage from all he left untold.

  “What do we do now?”

  He rubbed her back and pressed a kiss onto her head. “All I know is that I never wanted to let you go. Please say you’ll have me, Leila. I’ll do everything within my power to make you the happiest woman on this earth, insha’Allah.”

  If God is willing.

  I think God does want this. A sense of peace fluttered from her heart through her whole being. How she loved this man, and now she would be having his child. Did miracles happen?

  As she stared into the windows to his soul, before she touched her mouth to his, Leila knew she had found the place she belonged. With Khalid. With the family they would create together.

  Yes, miracles do happen.

  Once upon a second chance….

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Stories about love, life, relationships... in a melting-pot of culture.

  Zee is an author who grew up on a fence - on one side there was modernity and the global world, on the other there was culture and traditions. Putting up with the culture for half of her life, one day she decided she'd stand tall on her wall and dip toes every now and then into both sides of her non-conventional upbringing.

  From this resolution spanned a world of adaptation and learning to live on said wall. The realization also came that many other young women of the world were on their own fence.

  This particular position became her favorite when she decided to pursue her lifelong dream of writing - her heroines all sit 'on a fence', whether cultural or societal, in today's world or in times past, and face dilemmas about life and love.

  Hailing from the multicultural island of Mauritius, Zee is a degree holder in Communications Science. She is married, mum to a tween son, & stepmum to a teenage lad.

  You can visit Zee at:

  www.zeemonodee.blogspot.com