Black Book of Arabia by Hend Al Qassemi

tears, and words. Waiting for an answer, he sat in silence looking down, with his head in his hands and the headset comfortably set in his ears. He could feel the perspiration on his forehead.
    Sheikha was embarrassed that a prince from a foreign country had proposed to her when she was engaged to be married soon. How awkward. She also was frightened, because he sounded angry and she dared not ask him whatwas going on. She could hear the brokenheartedness in his deep voice, and she was curious as to what had led him on. She had her suspicions, but she did not voice them.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sheikha. She dared not discuss with him what happened. Clearly he felt insulted, and she feared provoking him further.
    â€œPrincess, I know everything about you—your likes, your dislikes, where you have traveled, the animals you raised, your hopes, your dreams, your sense of humor. I fell in love with you, even though we had never met. I proposed only to find out that you are not even available.”
    If bitterness and disappointment had a musical note, she could hear it in his trailing voice.
    It was a defeated voice now, bitter and choked with rage. He had not intended to say any of that, but his heart was breaking. It was not fair to have so much feeling for someone and for that person to be completely unaware of what even the sound her voice did to his quaking heart. This must be what they called one-sided love, and the worst part was that she did not even know he existed. She did not even know who exactly he was. There were thousands of royals, and no one deserved to be tricked like that. It was shameful being a part of this fiasco, even if only as an audience, because of the risk of being thought to be an accomplice.
    Sheikha was beginning to get worried. With her wedding preparations already underway, she did not need a scandal at this time. She thought someone had proposedto her as a joke because her wedding was in a month. Or that it was actually sweet that someone had proposed to her friend Lulu, thinking that she was her sister. “Prince Sultan, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “My apologies, but please explain what I’ve done and what I can do to rectify or make amends. I’m deeply sorry for the muddle-up, but I had no idea whatsoever that this was happening under my roof.” Her tone was firm, but she was trembling and hoped that she could explain that she was innocent. “I have been busy with my master’s thesis, work, and family.”
    â€œI know your schedule, where you go and what you do—your application and bugs, your horses, your family, and this was all a lie.” He interrupted himself and then trailed off as if he were thinking and reminiscing.
    â€œIt was your friend Lulu,” said the prince. “She took your identity and almost tricked me into marrying her. What kind of sick, demented people do you keep in your entourage as your hairdressers or friends?”
    He needed to head to the plane as it was taking off, so he began walking toward the boarding gate. He revealed everything that he had been told and shown: her pictures, writing, poetry, travel, animals, and lifestyle.
    â€œWhy do you have a daughter of a camel herder escorting you?” he blurted out.
    â€œI swear, I didn’t know,” trembled Sheikha. “I’m in love with my fiancé and I’m very happy with him. I had no idea about any of this. Lulu is sometimes impulsive, but Idid not expect that she would do anything like this. This is beyond absurd!”
    Her voice trailed off. The prince could not hear her nervousness; she seemed serene and almost amused, but he needed to voice his pain, otherwise he would die, drowning in his sea of misery. In a rage that eventually cooled, he told her he met “Lady Lulu” through a persistent matchmaker who promised