191 - Sheik Mahjub Al-Makki

Sheik Mahjub Al-Makki

I see the guard shaking his head, and I enter the apartment with my bag, hoping my mother has packed something for me to wear tonight!

I walk through the space I already know well and start to smell the perfume my wife is wearing. I smile when I see that she received the red and white roses I ordered yesterday to congratulate her on the stylish completion of her time at the Bolshoi.

It's something she handled within herself. Despite my deep concern over not having my wife with me full-time in the last six months, I know it's been even more difficult and exhausting for her. I saw her face thinning out in the last month, with the insane routine she was enduring, the little time she took to rest.

I saw her trying to juggle being at home, being present by my side, and trying to fulfill her ballet performance schedule.

I entered the bedroom, and to my surprise, my mother had packed a tuxedo in the bag. My intention was to wear traditional clothes, but why not repeat the same way we started.

On the bed, there was a folder with the schedule and layout of Hope's performance. I smile, seeing how beautiful she looked in her photo dressed as Clara next to the dancer who plays the Nutcracker. She was radiant in her outfit and had a huge smile.

I look at the clock again, and if I don't hurry, I'll end up late for her last performance, and I don't want that.

Already dressed, with my prayer beads in hand, I leave the building heading towards the grand theater, which once again has a huge photo of my wife on its façade, as the center of attention. I bid farewell in her final performance.

Once again, I manage to enter the theater without attracting attention. The performance had already begun, and I could hear the orchestra playing. My security opens up space to go to the box closest to the stage; I want my wife to see me as soon as she approaches our box.

As soon as I enter the reserved space, I am surprised to see my in-laws there, honoring my wife, along with Guilherme and Pietra sitting side by side.

"Finally, I thought you weren't coming!" My father-in-law says as he greets me.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, especially since everyone seems to know something I don't!" I reply, approaching my mother-in-law.

I see their expressions turning amused, and I'm certain something is going on. I sit next to my mother-in-law and begin to pay attention to the spectacle unfolding before me.

Hope looked beautiful in a dress with a full skirt, exposing her knees, and I started to feel uneasy with the dancer whose hand was on Hope's belly, guiding her through the movements of the performance we were watching. But something begins to catch my attention.

The tight, glittering dress, the white stockings revealing how toned her legs are, clearly show how my wife's belly is a bit more pronounced.

I look at my emotional mother-in-law, wiping her tears with the handkerchief my father-in-law handed her at that moment. I feel Pietra's hand on mine and look at my longtime friend.

In everyone's eyes, I see confirmation of something I didn't yet know, and the reason everyone wanted me here today!

The play was coming to an end, and my chest was swelling faster and faster. With the thought that perhaps my wife needs more care, I pick up the bouquet of flowers I bought before coming to the theater and head towards the staff, where everyone will soon gather.

I walk slowly, trying to do the math, which is even difficult to calculate, as it's been at least five months since Hope stopped taking birth control so we could start our family. She stops dancing for the Bolshoi and focuses solely on teaching.

I greet the Bolshoi director and see him pointing towards the stage.

"They're finishing the act, you can go in and surprise her, Your Highness!" He says, bowing his head.

I nodded and walked past the ballerinas who were beginning to exit the stage. My thoughts were swirling between the present and the past few months, her taking naps during the day, feeling nauseous after coffee. And always hearing some explanation that it was dust, fatigue from teaching, or just needing cooler weather.

Upon my mother's comment, I had large air conditioners installed to ease my wife's discomfort. Only now do I realize they were all hiding the truth.

The most beautiful truth!

I hardly notice as I invade the stage with the bouquet of flowers and the silliest smile I've ever had. All I see is my wife on her tiptoes, acknowledging the audience, who once again were applauding my beautiful swan. I walk until I'm a few meters away and kneel down.

As it should have happened last year. With my eyes fixed on my wife, I notice the deafening silence the theater has fallen into, anticipating what is about to unfold.

"Behind you!" A kind soul shouts from the back of the theater.

Then my wife's gaze meets mine, and it's inevitable not to cry. Seeing her eyes fill with tears and her hands moving towards the small bump that is already becoming visible, something I would have noticed if we had not been apart for days.

"Surprise!" She says, her hands on her belly.

"The best and the most beautiful!" I handed her the bouquet.

"I'm ready to go home, be pampered, and loved even more by everyone!" I smile at my wife's tender voice.

I rise and approach my Sheikha, sliding my hands down her arms as she brings the bouquet's petals to her face, inhaling them tenderly. The same flowers I will always give to the sweetest and gentlest woman I've had the pleasure of knowing.

The woman who, with a punch, made me realize how foolish I was not to have fallen in love with her as soon as we found out we were promised to each other. The woman who would make me beg for her forgiveness, which I would gladly do, and yet I always strive to make up for all the pain I caused her when she was a teenager.

"I love you, my swan. I love every little piece that is forming inside you," I say, touching our foreheads together.

"I love you too!" She says, her cheeks flushing. "Take me home, I'm tired of this cold, I want to feel the warmth of our nation!"

I gently hold her face, and we hear applause and cheers as I kiss my wife tenderly.

Moments of sadness are behind us in our lives; now we only have a beautiful future ahead of us.

"Let's go home, Sheikha Hope Al-Makki!" I say, kissing my prayer beads that have never left my hands.