Ella bajó la vista.
—¿Lo sabías todo?
—No todo. Lo suficiente para temer. Lo suficiente para esconder a Zafir. Lo suficiente para prepararte.
Amira apretó los labios.
—Pudiste confiar en mí.
—No cuando aún eras… —tosió— …demasiado buena.
She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
—That was never.
—No. —His eyes barely watered—. But you still had the possibility to believe in love without calculating the price. I... took that away from you.
The silence weighed.
Amira looked at him for a long time.
For years he had wanted an explanation.
A crack.
An apology.
And now that I had it, it hurt the same.
—You used me —said.
—Yeah.
—You forced me.
—Yeah.
—And yet you expect me to forgive you?
Don Hassan closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them again, there was no longer a tycoon.
Just a tired father.
—No. I just hope you survive cleaner than I survived.
Amira felt the burning behind her eyes.
He didn't cry.
It had never been easy to cry.
But he bowed and took his father's hand.
That was enough.
He exhaled as if an ancient weight had been lifted from his chest.
He then looked at Zafir.
—Take care of her.
Zafir responded without grandiloquence.
—Only if she lets me.
For the first time in a long time, Don Hassan really laughed.
Small.
Broken.
But real.
He died that same morning.
Peaceful.
And although the pain was deep, Amira knew that he had not died defeated.
He had died watching his daughter become something neither his enemies nor his allies could control again.
