Hope was a damned fine fool, and she’d cherished a foolish hope right up until the last, but despite the doctor’s final reassurance, she finally let go of hope. She accepted reality.
“The condition is unusual, on its own. But combined with other factors, it’s very unlikely that you will ever be able to conceive, let alone carry a pregnancy to term. There are things we can try, but even with medical intervention, I do not wish to excite your hopes. More than likely, your Highness, you will never be able to have a biological child of your own.”
She’d been unable to speak, and so he’d continued. “That’s not to say it’s impossible. The universe, God, call it what you will, works in mysterious ways. There is always a chance, you know, but I think you should prepare for the fact that this might not be the case for you.”
“Not impossible?” Chloe had asked breathily, her heart thumping.
“But highly, highly, truly unlikely.” The words were a soft, gentle rebuke. A call to reality.
“I see, Doctor. Thank you.”
Chloe disconnected the call, numb in a way she’d never known. Numb, and aching, all at the same time. She stared around the room, the palace suite that was so perfect for a princess, decorated with her in mind, she stared at the bed she and Raffa had used each night, making love to one another with dreams of babies in both their minds, and she squeezed her eyes shut on a wave of illness, cloying at her insides.
She wasn’t to be a mother. This wave of nausea was nothing more, it was panic, just like in the helicopter. She’d deluded herself into seeing symptoms that weren’t there, when her brain had known what her heart hadn’t wanted to accept.
She couldn’t give Raffa the baby he needed.
She couldn’t give him the baby the Kingdom needed.
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out at the sky without seeing.
The marriage she had entered willingly and found herself clinging to was insupportable. It was a trap. A prison.
There was no way she could remain in Raffa’s life – she couldn’t do it to him.
If she told him the truth, what would he do? It was easy to imagine – he would support her. He would insist on remaining married to her. She was his wife, and the sister of his friend. She was Malik’s friend’s daughter. All these things would matter to Raffa – duty, friendship, loyalty. But it was loyalty to another, friendship to another, and duty to his Kingdom. There was nothing in his potential actions that would be a reflection of how he felt for Chloe, nor what he wanted from her.
He would do what was right and good, not what was right for her. Just as he’d done the right thing by Amit – raising the boy as his own when he had no obligation to do so. He’d been responsible and principled when others had failed.
He would be like that with her, but he’d always resent her. He’d always look at her as the woman who’d failed him. Particularly if Goran plunged their country into a civil war that a wife who could conceive might have prevented!
And what of their intimacy? What of this hunger that flared between them? Would he extinguish it easily? Satiate himself with another?
She groaned and sank to the floor, giving in, just for a moment, to the desperation that was thick inside of her.
There was no alternative – none. No matter how long she spent analyzing the problem, nothing would fix this. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but at some point, she stood, and dusted her clothes off.
She had to leave. And immediately, before she did something foolish like break down and tell Raffa the truth. She had to go. For if she told him, and he asked her to stay regardless, she would. And that would be so very wrong, for both of them.
“Aysha?” She called from the door to her room, looking for her servant. She appeared after a few moments.
“What is it, your highness? Are you well?” Aysha asked with a slight frown.
“I’ve just had some news about a friend. I have to leave for America – at once. Would you have a jet prepared and send word to my husband?” Her voice cracked. “I’ll only be gone a few days; I’d appreciate it if you would let him know.”
“His highness might wish…”
“His highness had a busy day of meetings,” she demurred. “There’s no sense bothering him over something so trivial.”
“Very well,” Aysha bowed low. “I’ll pack a suitcase and then we’ll leave.”
“Thank you.”
True to her word, Aysha took care of the practicalities, and then they were off, a limousine ride to the airport, and a smooth flight to Seattle via a refueling stop in London.
Chloe had lived in close proximity to Aysha for almost three years, and she hated knowing that she would never see the woman again, as she hated the necessity of lying to her. She told herself, again and again, This is the right thing to do, repeating the incantation inside her mind until those words were all she heard, all she could focus on.
“I need to use the restroom,” Chloe murmured, nodding towards a toilet stall in the busy airport. “I won’t be long.” She walked away before Aysha could say something. And though her security detail was following her, Chloe had the advantage. She’d used this airport many times, and she knew that the bathrooms had two access points. She walked in, and before they entered to see which stall she chose, she slipped out the other doors.
The airport was frantic; it was not hard to be lost in the commotion. None of it was very hard, in the end. In one day,
