The Voice of Azzam

Milan stirred awake to the sound of her father's voice.

"Rise and shine, birthday girl."

Her eyes blinked open. "Papa?"

Hussein stood in the doorway, holding a small covered plate. His apron was already dusted with flour, his smile tired but warm. "You think I'd forget? You've been reminding me since you were five."

Milan sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You remembered?"

He laughed softly and set the plate on her little table. "I made basbousa - just a piece. If the head chef catches me using royal almonds for my daughter, I'll lose my job."

Milan grinned, eyes bright. "Then I'll save you half."

"Half?" he said, pretending to look offended. "You've changed."

She hugged him before he could say more, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you, Papa."

When she finally pulled back, he brushed her hair gently. "You should get ready. I heard the crown prince's coronation will happen soon. Everyone's busy. Don't be late for duty today. the Queen Mother's wing is chaos."

"I won't."

As he left, Hiba appeared at the door, grinning wide, arms full of fruit baskets."Happy birthday, troublemaker," she whispered loudly.

"Hiba!" Milan gasped. "You came?"

Hiba placed the baskets down and shrugged. "My father's store got the contract to supply the palace for the coronation. I told him I'd handle delivery."

"You just wanted to sneak in."

"Exactly," Hiba said proudly. "Now hurry. You're turning nineteen and working in a royal palace. That deserves a smile, not that sad little frown."

Milan laughed, pushing her friend playfully. "You're impossible."

"True," Hiba said, scanning the small room. "You think the prince will notice you today?"

Milan blinked. "Why would he?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hiba teased. "Maybe because you accidentally walked into him last week and the story's all over the town?"

Milan groaned, covering her face. "Please tell me that's not true."

"Oh, it's very true. Even the laundry maids call you 'the brave one.'"

"Hiba!"

Her friend burst out laughing. "Don't worry. Maybe he forgot."

Milan rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "I doubt princes forget people who nearly made them spill tea."

"Well," Hiba said, gathering the empty trays, "just in case he remembers - don't trip today.

You've got enough legends attached to your name already."

Milan laughed again, shaking her head. As her friend left,

Nineteen. 

She whispered it to herself like a promise.

Then tied her hair, straightened her back heading to the kitchen for work .

Kamil sat behind his desk, jacket loosened, a cup of qahwa half-finished beside him. He has been too busy to get his birthday celebration. The hum of the air system was the only sound until a soft buzz came from the intercom on the wall - three polite tones.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Princess Jodha requests permission to see you, Your Highness," came the guard's voice.

Kamil hesitated for a beat. "Let her in."

The glass door slid open with a faint hiss.

Jodha stepped inside, She smiled as though she already belonged there.

"I thought I'd find you here,even on your birthday, you're working extra hard." she said softly.

"It's too quiet tonight."

Kamil didn't look up from his files. "That's how I prefer it.Thank you , princess ."

She came closer. "Quiet can be lonely."

"Not when you've learned to live with it."

Her smile deepened, her tone lowering. "You shouldn't have to."

He finally looked at her. "You seem to mistake solitude for suffering."

Jodha tilted her head. "And you mistake attention for weakness."

Her perfume hung lightly in the air as she circled the desk. "The coronation approaches.

Everyone speaks of you. You should let someone... ease the pressure."

"You mean distract me."

"If that's what it takes."

Her hand brushed the corner of his desk - deliberate, graceful.

He stood before she could reach further. "You're crossing lines you don't understand.""Then draw them for me," she whispered.

Before he could respond, the intercom buzzed again.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Lady Mirian requests entry, Your Highness."

"Allow her."

The glass door parted again, and Mirian stepped in, holding a digital tablet. Her posture was perfect, her tone calm. "Your Highness, the updated trade report from the council."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Jodha - polite, unreadable.

Jodha smiled, slow and sharp. "I seem to have interrupted royal business."

"Not at all," Kamil said coolly. "You were just leaving."

Jodha's eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary before she turned and glided toward the exit. "We'll continue this conversation another time."

"Perhaps," Kamil replied.

The door closed behind her, sealing the tension with it.

Mirian placed the tablet on the desk. "Should I have scheduled her visit, Your Highness?"

He exhaled softly. "No. She doesn't take schedules seriously."

Mirian's lips curved faintly. "Neither do you, sometimes. You barely have time to attend to the guest present for your birthday."

He looked up at her - amused. "That's bold tho, I had to do what needs to be done .

Responsibility comes first ."

"It's true."

She hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of the tablet. "There's... been talk about the maid.

The one who bumped into you. The rumor's reaching people it shouldn't."Kamil's expression sharpened. "Let them talk."

"Even if it reaches the Queen Mother?"

He paused, then leaned back slightly. "You've heard something."

"I hear everything," she said quietly. "Including that Princess Jodha wasn't pleased."

He studied her for a moment. "And what do you think?"

Mirian's voice lowered. "I think you should be careful what - and who - you protect.

Especially now."

He gave a small nod. "You've always been honest."

She smiled faintly. "Someone has to be."

When she left, the door sealed soundlessly again. Kamil glanced at the untouched qahwa, then at the empty space Jodha had stood in moments before.

By noon, Milan was right in the middle of endless work - sleeves rolled, hair escaping her scarf, muttering curses under her breath as she carried a tray of silver dishes.

"Of all days..." she grumbled, dodging a guard. "Why today? Why me?"

The head maid had fallen ill, and the kitchen had gone into panic. Someone needed to deliver the afternoon refreshments to the prince's private wing - and of course, it had to be her.

"I don't even know the way to that side of the palace anymore," she whispered to herself, balancing the tray. "If I get lost, I'm blaming whoever this mysterious prince thinks he is-"

"-dangerous words for someone walking into his corridor," came a familiar, calm voice.

Milan froze.

He was there again - Rami. The quiet, polite man she'd met days ago near the garden paths.

The one she'd quickly grown comfortable around.

"Rami!" she hissed in relief. "Oh, thank heavens. I thought I'd end up in the wrong wing again ."

He tilted his head slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Still getting lost, I see."

"Don't start," she said, lowering the tray to the marble console nearby. "You have no idea

how crazy it's been. The head maid's sick, the cooks are shouting, and apparently, the prince is the most difficult man in the kingdom."

"Is that so?" he murmured, lips twitching.

"Oh, you've no idea," she continued, completely unaware. "They say he never smiles, never talks to anyone unless necessary, and people tremble when he walks past. Honestly, who behaves like that? It's just a crown, not a curse!"

Rami-Kamil-bit back a laugh. "You sound... brave for someone saying that inside his palace."

"I'm just saying what everyone else whispers," Milan said, her voice rising with each word. "If I ever meet him, I'll tell him to loosen up a little. Maybe try smiling or something."

Kamil arched an eyebrow. "You'd tell the Crown Prince that?"

"Of course," she said boldly, folding her arms. "He might need someone to remind him he's human too."

Before he could respond, the private door slid open with a soft hum.

Liam's voice filled the room before his body even appeared. "Your Highness, we've got the-"

He stopped mid-sentence. Abel stepped in behind him, taking in the sight: Kamil standing by the window, a maid clutching a tray, both looking very... caught.

Liam's lips curved slowly. "Oh. I see we're busy."

Milan blinked. "Your... what?"

Abel smirked and bowed slightly. "Forgive us, Your Highness. We didn't realize you had company."

The tray nearly slipped from Milan's hands.

Her voice caught in her throat. "Your... what did he jus...