"You know you can really tell me anything, Ahmed," Safiya said, staring at him, her voice tinged with a bit of hurt.
They were seated a bit farther from the abandoned house, where they could see the route better and where the king might pass.
Ahmed's gaze dropped to the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers, clasping both hands together and rubbing them nervously. "I wanted to," he said softly.
"But you didn't," Safiya bit her lip and looked away from him, her gaze fixated on the road. "I'm your friend, Ahmed. You've always been there for me. It's only right that I... I try to be there for you. Even though you didn't want to tell my mother, you should have told me."
Ahmed's gaze traveled to her. He had been wrong, but he didn't want her to worry. He hated seeing her this way; she had been through so much. He couldn't let her worry more. "I'm sorry, Safiya."
