Novel Full Chapter 419: If Only
Chapter 419: If Only
***
{Inside The Projection}
They moved through the streets of the Holy City with a strange kind of silence. Noise was there—merchants calling out their prices, children running with flatbread in their hands, the call of owls overhead—but between Malik and Layla, nothing seemed to stick.
They walked side by side, neither quite leading nor lagging.
Every few steps, people would glance, murmur, and point.
A Sultan and his wife, together in the open.
The kebab in Malik’s hand had long since cooled.
He hadn’t taken a bite, and Layla hadn’t asked why.
Their quiet didn’t grow comfortable over time; it only stretched thin.
After a while, however, Malik’s voice surprisingly broke through:
“The weather is turning hot, huh?”
And it was the safest thing he could’ve said.
“What?”
Layla turned to him, brows lifting.
“You don’t even feel heat.”
He nodded once.
“…I don’t.”
She sighed, shaking her head.
“Who asks for a date in the middle of the day? At the hottest part of it? Wouldn’t it make sense to wait until night?”
Malik’s gaze stayed ahead.
“We had to be seen. The afternoon is when we’d be seen most.”
Layla tilted her head.
“True… I guess.”
“Then why complain?”
Her lips curved slightly.
“To complain.”
Malik nodded again.
She looked away quickly, almost hiding her face in her robes.
’Almost,’ but not quite; he caught the ghost of a smile she tried to smother.
With that, they walked for a while longer, the crowd dwindling around them.
The noise dulled as they entered a narrow alley that bent into a shaded courtyard where a broken fountain sat, half-filled with dust.
It was actually quiet here, away from the flow of the main streets.
Once there, Malik slowed to a stop, prompting Layla to glance back at him, waiting.
His glowing eyes revealed his loss in thought, so she knew better than to disturb him.
After a few long moments, he looked back at her and finally addressed one of the… monuments in the room:
“How’s your caravan?”
Her face shifted in an instant; whatever light she had was gone, her shoulders drawing in.
Anger was obvious, but it was reined in, if only just barely.
“It’s…”
She looked down.
“Good.”
A trembling sigh escaped her.
“I have more than enough coin to grow it now. I could double the wagons if I wanted to.”
She paused.
“But I’m not going to. I won’t abuse my power… I have standards.”
Malik gave one small nod, ignoring her jab at the end.
“I see.”
Despite him alluding to it, or at least trying to, neither of them spoke of the real thing that sat between them—the so-called monument… her people burning.
She, of course, didn’t know that they had been Corrupted.
She only knew what she had heard, and it was nothing good.
Malik wasn’t planning to change that; rather, and again, he preferred it.
Still, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t apologize; he had to…
“I’m sorry.”
He had to say it.
It was the wrong move.
The worst thing he could’ve said.
Yet he had still said it.
Layla’s head snapped back up.
“S–Sorry? SORRY?”
Her purple eyes burned.
“SORRY FOR WHAT?”
Her voice cracked into rage, hate dripping from each word.
“For killing my father? For halving my people?”
Her entire body trembled.
“For what? Tell me?! What are you sorry for?!”
Malik stayed still, gaze locked on her, but silent.
“T-That’s what I thought.”
She stepped forward, taking his hand without looking at him.
“Now let’s just go.”
He followed.
Oh, damn.
He’d royally fucked it.
***
{Outside The Projection}
The hall didn’t have much to say… again.
It made sense. Layla’s cutting reaction was fair—more than fair.
If anything, the strange part wasn’t her anger; it was that she didn’t scream for his head right there in the street.
She almost smiled twice, even if they were faint and bitter.
Who in their right mind would give even a half-smile to the man they believed killed their father?
Roya—may God not rest her soul—would’ve tried to slit his throat before the kebab cooled.
But Layla was… different.
Like most of them in the hall, she had something in her that wasn’t quite right.
One couldn’t go through everything she had and come out balanced.
Something was seriously wrong with her, and that was only natural.
Even after his disaster of an… apology, she still held his hand.
Still.
Watching that, they couldn’t help but wonder….
Did this ’something’ of hers lean more towards grief or madness?
And was that the case now? The Layla before them, the one who stared at the projection, unmoving—where did she stand?
They couldn’t say.
But Malik… oh, Malik.
Damn, did their Sultan lose the thread when it came to feelings. Again, there was a time, many, many unfathomable lifetimes ago, when he could disarm someone with a laugh and soften even the hardest hearts with that odd mix of warmth and stubbornness.
He was somewhat happy-go-lucky and overly kind.
The second one had yet to go, but still, one could not deny that it had changed.
They’d seen him handle two children, easily navigate their emotions despite all his hardships, and make them trust him faster than seemed natural, especially so for kids of nobility.
Sure, they didn’t have a choice, and he did give them almost all he had, saving them from certain death, but still, the way he acted heavily influenced their relationship.
Now? Now he’d probably need years to earn that kind of trust… And even then, maybe not; he’d be too scary.
Malik really had to do himself over at the end.
Man couldn’t help it.
And Layla, the present one at least, found that endearing.
Oh yes, she found that awkward ruin very endearing. Well, sure, when they slept under the same roof, she’d thought it was an irritating flaw; many would think the same, making it something to argue about when the nights were too long.
Now, though, she looked at it and saw the man she had loved… her once-husband.
He was not perfect—no man ever was—but he was as close to perfection as one could ever be, a larger than life character, and yet, he as far from it as any man could ever be, a walking and breathing contradiction, something of a pardox, an onion with so many layers no one could ever get to the bottom of it.
Despite it all, she had loved him deeply for both.
’…If only.’
***
…If Only.
If the Shams and Moons could break apart,
And burn the sky with their ruin,
If you had not slipped so far from me,
With your silence pressed against my heart—
I could have screamed, I could have cursed,
But all I did was stand and breathe.
I carry rage that never softens,
Yet my hand still reached for yours.
Oh, if only I had known.
…If only.
I’ve been fighting shadows in myself,
Thoughts drown like stones beneath the sea.
I beg to God, though “He” stays quiet,
Pages tear before I read.
I cannot walk this road the same,
Your distance carved my soul in two.
I don’t want to live this world like this anymore.
All my life, all my life I’ve done you wrong,
All my life, all my life I’ve carried this grief,
All my life, all my life—yet I’m still here.
If I had known what I know now…
If only I knew.
…Oh, how I’d kill,
To see you again.