He pushed the heavy door open, cold wind rushing out to greet them.
Airam immediately paced away from him, back and forth, back and forth, hands on her hair, breathing like she was trying to outrun her own heartbeat.
Harry had never seen her like this. Not fierce. Not angry. Not confident. Just… breaking.
He stepped closer.
"Airam, calm down. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's going to be okay. I'm here with you, okay? Just try and relax. You are never alone."
It was the longest, softest thing he had said to her in months. Airam froze and shot him a look sharp enough to slice skin.
Her voice cracked with disbelief and pain.
He was the last person she wanted comfort from. He was too similar to the man she had just seen in power, in presence, in the ability to break someone without lifting a finger.
Harry felt the rejection like a punch, but he didn't move away. Before he could try again, the rooftop door opened behind them.
Footsteps. Voices. Harry turned sharply.
A man in his sixties stepped out, elegantly dressed, carrying the weight of old money and older sins.
Beside him walked a young man, tall, sharp-featured, probably not much older than Airam.
"Please… can you give us a minute?" the older man said to Harry. Harry stepped forward, protective instinct flaring hot.
"I'm sorry, who are you? And what are you doing up here?" The younger man frowned.
"Dad… what are we doing here?" The older man exhaled and looked at Airam with a softness she didn't return.
"Ahmed, meet one of your sisters. Airam… my beautiful princess."
Harry's breath caught. Airam has a father. A rich father. A powerful father.
Airam lifted her chin and spoke in a cold, formal tone Harry had never heard from her.
"Please leave, sir." It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear. It was a command. Harry didn't want to leave. He also couldn't stay.
So he stepped far enough back to pretend he was gone, but stayed where he could see her.
Where he could protect her.
Ahmed cleared his throat, hesitant.
"Sister..." Airam's glare shut him up instantly. He felt it. Harry felt it. Even the wind felt it.
The older man, Mr. Maktoub, smiled sadly.
"Dear, you have grown so much. The last picture Karim sent me… You have really changed. Daddy is proud of you."
The word Daddy shattered something in her.
Airam's voice trembled with twenty years of swallowed pain.
"Twenty good years. Not once. Not once did you show up. And now you think you have the nerve to call me your daughter? After everything you did to us?"
Mr. Maktoub's expression tightened.
"Airam, what happened between your mother and me had nothing to do with you or your sisters. Believe me."
That was the wrong thing to say. She stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"You didn't want us. You didn't want a bunch of girls. You didn't want me. Even as a baby, I never knew what it was like to be loved by a father. I grew up fighting tooth and nail to prove that a girl isn't a curse. To prove I wasn't a mistake."
Her voice cracked. Ahmed swallowed hard.
Mr. Maktoub looked pained.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. Baby, I was in a dark place. Your mother left me..."
"Because she had a reason!" Airam snapped.
"And after she left… what then? Didn't you move on? Didn't you build your empire? Didn't you have your army of sons? We were nothing to you."
Tears streamed down her face.
"I spent twenty years imagining this moment. Training myself to face you. To tell you, I'm worth more than a son. That I can do everything a man can. So yes, I took your role. I erased you from our lives. You've been dead to me for twenty years. So stay dead."
Ahmed blinked rapidly, torn between confusion and pain.
"Sister… please,"
"Don't," Airam said, voice shaking but firm.
"I don't blame you for anything. But don't call me that."
She turned and walked away, not looking at them, not slowing down even when Mr. Maktoub's knees buckled from shock and heartbreak.
She kept walking. Straight into Harry's chest. He caught her gently.
Her tears hit the fabric of his suit. Harry didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He had heard everything.