Malik paused a moment.
'So he did it...'
Sighing, he nodded.
"Great."
Azeem's shoulders loosened.
"That's really great. If you hadn't noticed her sickness so early…"
He exhaled, almost laughing from relief.
"We might've lost her, the Eye of the Holy City. They all owe you for that."
A murmur rose around the table—the rest picking up on the opportunity.
Compliments, one after the other, not about Malik but Layla.
Praise for her beauty, her grace, and the blessing of their marriage.
Each word was a polished little offering meant to stay in his favor.
Malik didn't really hear them and instead looked at them.
He stared them down, offering nothing more.
Seeing his lack of reaction, their voices lowered until they finally shut up, realizing just how dumb it was to try licking his boots now when they failed so many times before.
When the last echo of their flattery ended, Malik finally spoke:
"Keep any damage from reaching us, without destroying them."
"Yes, my Lord."
