Amina’s voice cut through the air like a blade as she leaned close to Zainab, her breath warm against her sister’s ear. “You think he’s a beggar? You think you know him?” A pause hung heavy between them, the tension palpable. “He’s lying. A thief. A criminal hiding from his past.”
Zainab’s chest tightened, each heartbeat echoing with fear and uncertainty. She struggled to steady her voice, holding onto the inner strength she had discovered. “You’re lying,” she said, though the seed of doubt had already taken root.
Amina’s eyes glittered with satisfaction as she pulled back. “Ask him yourself… if you dare.”
The market’s vibrant sounds seemed muted as Zainab made her way home, Amina’s words swirling in her mind. By the time she reached the hut, a heaviness settled in her heart—questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to face.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Zainab sat beside Yusha for their evening meal. Their hands brushed occasionally, the silence between them thick with unspoken words.
Finally, she found the courage. “Yusha, can I ask you something?”
He turned, eyes calm and patient. “Of course, Zainab.”
Her voice trembled slightly. “Were you… really a thief?”
