The Voice of Azzam

The morning light crawled across the cracked wall, washing the small room in gold. A kettle

whistled faintly from the kitchen, followed by a sharp voice.

"Milan!"

Amy's tone was clipped - a warning dressed as a call.

Milan stepped out, already dressed for school, her neat braids tied with a faded ribbon. "Yes,

ma'am."

Amy turned from the counter. "You're late. Again."

"I woke early-" Milan cooed. 

"Don't answer back," Amy cut in. Her gaze lingered on Milan's face, that calm softness that mirrored the woman she could never forget. Hussein had broken his vows for that face once - for Sofia, the woman Amy still despised.

She had left him then, twins barely two years old. But when Sofia died, Amy came back, all

smiles and forgiveness. Only Milan knew the truth: she hadn't come back for love, she'd

come back for vengeance cloaked as responsibility.

Amy's voice dropped lower. "If you must speak, keep your voice low. You sound too much like her."

"Yes, ma'am."she replied .

Mikel strolled into the room, tapping at his phone, barely glancing her way. "Try not to slow us down today," he muttered.

Mabel followed, bright eyes darting nervously toward Amy. "Ignore him," she whispered. "He

woke up cranky."

Milan smiled faintly. Mabel squeezed her hand once before letting go.

Outside, the air was warm, filled with the sound of traffic and life.

"Dad said he might come home next week," Mabel said.

Milan smiled softly. "He said that last month."

"Then maybe this time he'll mean it."

Milan didn't reply. Her father, Chef Hussein, worked in the royal kitchens of Azzam Palace.

She hadn't seen him in weeks. Every time his call came, Amy answered first.

At school, Hiba leaned across Milan's desk the moment she sat down. "You look tired," she said.

"I didn't sleep much."

"Let me guess - Amy?"Milan's silence was answer enough.  Hiba huffed. "You should've stayed when my mum offered. We'd have spoiled you by now." She has been her childhood friend . Milan smiled, small but grateful.

Then Hiba's tone shifted, playful. "Anyway, big news! The Crown Prince is back!"

Milan blinked. "Oh."

"Oh?" Hiba gasped. "That's all you have to say? He's literally the most beautiful man in the country!"

"I don't faint for strangers," Milan said, and they both laughed.

That night, the world felt quiet.

The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, and the hum of cars faded as the hours deepened. Amy had gone to bed. The twins' room was silent.

Milan slipped out to the small yard behind the house. The jasmine vines along the fence

swayed in the night air, heavy with scent.

She sat on the old bench, looking up at the pale slice of moon. Then, without thinking, she began to sing.

It was a soft hum at first, then words. 

🎶I could tell what peace is but it hasn't found me ,

🎶I could tell what life is but it hasn't breath in me.

🎶If anyone finds it , Tell it Milan need it

🎶My mother was me before the night day goes dark

🎶My mother named me wishing I would be her

🎶And I realized I was her before the day goes dark.

Her voice was low, delicate, yet it carried emotion that filled the small yard. Not loud enough for the world - just enough for her heart to stop aching for a while. When she finished, she stayed silent, the echo of her

own song still hanging in the air.

Later That Same Night - Across the City

Kamil had already settled back into palace life that week, but tonight he'd escaped for a few

hours - meeting Liam and Abel at his private penthouse downtown.

Liam's music thundered through the sleek glass walls, echoing off marble floors that gleamed under soft golden light.

Kamil arched a brow from the bar counter. "Liam, I said play music, not host a concert."

Liam grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. "For a prince? You deserve the concert."

Abel, sprawled across the velvet couch, snorted. "More like the encore." Kamil shook his head, laughter slipping through.

"Bro, did you see the headlines?" Abel said, scrolling on his phone. "The Crown Prince

Returns. They make it sound like you just ended a war."

Kamil groaned. "I miss being ordinary."

"You were never ordinary," Abel said. "You just had better disguises."

The three of them laughed - the kind of laughter built on years of shared secrets and

trouble.

Then Liam smirked. "So... back to royal duties, huh? Let me guess - Grandma's already

talking marriage?"

Kamil's silence was answer enough.

Abel leaned forward. "Oh, she definitely did."

"I'm not talking about it," Kamil said simply."Which means you're absolutely thinking about it," Liam teased. Kamil threw a pillow at him.

It was past midnight when Kamil finally decided to head back. The convoy moved smoothly through the quiet city. The window was half open; the night breeze rolled in, warm against his

skin.

He leaned his head back, watching the lights blur past . Then, through the hum of the engine, a faint sound drifted in.

A melody.

Barely audible .

He turned toward the sound - a small neighborhood, a yard faintly lit by the moon. He couldn't make out the words, only the tone: soft, aching, beautiful.

Then it was gone, swallowed by the road's hum.

Kamil stared out for a moment longer before exhaling quietly.

"Everything all right, Your Highness?" the driver asked.

"Yes," he said after a pause. "Just thought I heard something."