For a moment, Ziza froze as his words registered in her mind.
No, that can’t be right. Her heart banged against his chest.
“What are you talking about? I thought... Queen Hana died of leukaemia.”
“She did, but her pregnancy,” he clenched his hands, “giving birth to me severely deteriorated her health. She didn’t even live to three months after my birth,” He spoke with so much conviction that broke Ziza’s heart, “She couldn’t even at least try chemotherapy because of me. I might not have killed her directly, but I helped a great deal. Father made sure I felt it every, single, day.”
“Rafiq, no.” Ziza felt the muscles in his shoulders and arms tense beneath her palms. He went still and silent for a moment, as if he were choosing his next words carefully.