Twisted (Never After #4)(77)

“Yasmin, what are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is worn and soft, barely above a whisper.

“Baba, how many times do I have to tell you?” I choke out, trying to stem the tremble in my voice. “I’ll always be here.”

A soft smile plays around the corners of his lips, and he turns his face forward until he’s staring out again at the view.

“Nice morning,” I manage.

He nods. “One of the prettiest.”

We sit in silence for a few more minutes, and even though I’ve spent the past few months lying to myself—even though I’ve raged and fought and tricked my mind into believing it isn’t true— right now it’s impossible to ignore.

He’s dying. And there’s not a damn thing I can do.

A sharp, searing ache pierces through my chest at finally acknowledging this for what it is.

With clarity comes pain. With acceptance comes grief.

I’ve been running away from both for quite some time.

Fingering the ring on my left hand, I say, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to walk me down the aisle.”

He sighs, reaching over and patting the top of my forearm. “I’ve had a lot of time recently to think on who I am. Who I’ve been as a man. A husband. A father.”

His words are a punch to the gut. “You’ve been a great father.”

“We both know that’s not true. I’ve been what I knew how to be.” He shakes his head. “But sometimes what you know isn’t enough. And not acknowledging my need for growth, so I could become the father you deserved, the one who was present and not just a name on a check, that’s something that will haunt me into the afterlife.”

“Baba,” I whisper. “You did the best you could.”

“If I had done the best I could, I would have noticed you and the man who’s like a son to me falling in love right before my eyes. But I missed it all. My selfishness and greed made me think I knew what was best instead of trusting that you had grown into a strong woman.”

I inhale sharply, because never in a thousand years did I think we would be having this conversation. My father has always been stuck in his ways. The fact that this is what he’s grieving over, that he thinks he missed something that was never there, makes it difficult not to pour out all the secrets I’m holding close to my chest just so I can alleviate his guilt.

But I stop myself, because even if he could help me be free of Julian for good, even if he didn’t miss anything between us, he still missed me falling in love. Still disregarded my feelings to honor his own.

And if he’s taking the step to acknowledge where he failed, the least I can do is allow him to feel the pain of his actions so he can let them go and find peace before death, no matter how much I wish to take them away right now.

Tears spring up behind my eyes, and I let them fall, small sniffles coming from my nose as I realize that it took my father on his deathbed for me to truly feel seen.

Again, I waver on what to say. I could tell him that Aidan is the one I really love, that I need his help and I want to be free of Julian. I now know, for the first time in my life, that if I did lay everything on the line, my father wouldn’t look at me with disappointment.

I’m also not sure if all of it would still be true.

So I don’t say a word. Because if my father is coming to terms with his innermost feelings, maybe I should do the same.

And this marriage doesn’t feel fake to me anymore.

Not like it did. So maybe I won’t go to Egypt. I won’t meet this mystery “friend.” I won’t see Aidan. Maybe I won’t keep talking to Randy Gazim.

“Thank you, Baba,” I murmur.

“Are you happy, Yasmin?”

His question hits me in the center of the chest, and I chew on my lip as I think of how to answer. A few weeks ago and I would have said no. I don’t think I would have had it in me to lie to him when he’s being so open and vulnerable with me.

But now…

Now I’m confused. Because while there’s still a profound sense of sadness and grief when I think about the state of my life, there are moments that peek through the clouds, sprinkling bits of sunshine down. And yeah, they feel like happiness. And all of them include Julian.

I clear my throat. “Of course.”

He sighs, nodding. “Good. That’s all I want.”

“Julian wants me to go to Egypt on a trip. But I think I’ll stay here with you instead.”

He sighs. “I love you more than the world, Yasmin, but go with your husband to Egypt. I’ll still be here when you return.”

The way he says it like a command leaves no room for debate. I could waste my breath arguing, but it wouldn’t make a difference, and if I pushed, I’d only be faced with a locked door from a stubborn man who doesn’t want me to see him wither away.

I swallow, ignoring the way my throat swells. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he says. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go lie inside and rest.”

He pushes himself to a stand, and I move with him, reaching out and hugging him like it’s the last time I ever will.

He kisses my forehead and whispers his love, and somehow, even through the deep sickness in my heart, I manage to do the same.

And then I leave my father in peace and walk out the door to pack before going to meet my husband.