Author's Preface
For a whole month, Halima had been telling Yahya, half-joking, half-serious, about an Earth tradition — how couples sometimes went off somewhere alone, away from their daily grind, just to spend time together. Then one evening, Yahya announced with a mysterious smile that he had a surprise for her.
He led her far outside the settlement, past every tent and campfire, past every curious eye, to nothing but endless dunes fading into dusk.
"I'll admit," he said, a little sheepish, spreading a thick blanket over the sand, "I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do out here in the desert. Then I thought — maybe we just watch the stars?"
Halima smiled, moved by the simple, sincere thought behind it.
"I like that idea."
They ate a light meal — flatbread, dates, and chilled fruit sharbat — then lay back on the blanket together, looking up as the night sky opened wide above them.
"On Earth," Halima said quietly, "I used to look up at the stars like this all the time. Wondering if there was another livable planet out there somewhere, like mine. Funny thing," she added with a small laugh, "I used to dream about getting to space so badly. And now here I am. Living on another planet, surrounded by strangers from the stars."
Yahya, still watching the sky, said thoughtfully, "You know, I used to wonder sometimes if my soulmate lived up there. On a star."
Halima let out a soft laugh. "Directly on a star? You’d burn to a crisp! Stars are just giant balls of burning gas. I think you mean a planet."
"Planet, star..." Yahya smiled, amused by her accuracy. "To us, they're all just lights in the dark."
Caught up in it now, she started explaining — planets, galaxies, how the universe worked — with the same passion she'd once felt dreaming of being out there herself.
Yahya listened without interrupting, clearly struck by it.
"How do you know all this?" he finally asked.
The question pleased her.
"On Earth, that kind of knowledge is available to anyone. You just read a book or watch a video."
She told him about spaceships next — how they flew, how the engines worked — and from there launched into other pieces of Earth technology. Long ago, the prophet Yahya had spoken of other worlds with their own distinct cultures and lives, yet hearing Halima describe her own world still filled him with wonder. These stories had already left him, his parents, and even skeptical Faris more than a little amazed.
Yahya found himself thinking about her escape capsule — almost nothing left of it now, save a few strange devices that had long since stopped working. Halima had once explained they needed to be "charged," a word whose meaning he still hadn't fully grasped. He admired how far her people's world had advanced, even as some small part of him stayed wary of technology he couldn't begin to understand.
They spent the whole night like that — talking, watching the sky, losing all track of time.
Yahya woke first the next morning. He kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, got up quietly, and went to wash.
He always had trouble getting her up for the dawn prayer — sometimes he genuinely wondered how she'd survived on Earth with a habit like that. But then he'd remember her past, and sympathy quickly took its place.
How could her parents have ignored a child this wonderful? he thought, looking at her peaceful, sleeping face. If they'd had a daughter — one as beautiful as her mother — he'd have given her the whole world, protected her from every hardship, watched over every step she took.
A child.
The thought struck him harder than he expected. He realized he'd been quietly praying for one for a while now. How badly he wanted a child.
Right then, Halima stirred and opened her eyes, and seeing his face, smiled.
"Morning," she murmured, still half-asleep.
"Morning." He smiled back. "Time to get up, sweetheart. Time to move."
"Already?" she asked, with a dramatic little pout.
Yahya laughed at her, kissed her forehead, and went off to boil water.
After lunch, Faris was giving Salim, the head of his personal guard, his last orders for the day when a familiar figure appeared nearby. Salim spotted Hayat approaching, gave Faris a quick nod, and stepped away, leaving the two of them alone.
Faris looked at her with open hostility.
"You're not even trying to hide it anymore," Hayat said, raising an eyebrow.
"Why are you here?" he asked, no attempt at softening it. "Yahya's already married."
Hayat started to answer, but Faris cut her off.
"Stay away from him. And from Halima," he said, quiet but hard. "My mother might be too kind-hearted to notice your little games. I'm not. Try that again, the way you did before, and I'll have you thrown out of the settlement myself. I don't care that you're the daughter of the Banu Hamam chieftain”.
Hayat smiled, unbothered.
"Slow down," she drawled. "I haven't done anything yet. Why jump straight to conclusions about me? Maybe I've changed."
"I'd sooner believe I grew horns and a tail," Faris snorted, "than believe you've changed."
She laughed, short and bright, then shifted, her curiosity turning genuine.
"Tell me about Halima. What's she like?"
"Kind," Faris said flatly. "Honest. Innocent. Everything you've never been. Stay away from her."
"What did she do to charm all of you so fast?" Hayat pressed, ignoring the warning in his voice. "You, Seyyid Mansur, Yahya, Aunt Amina, the whole camp — in a few months?"
"She's honest with everyone," Faris said. "Unlike some people."
Hayat laughed louder this time.
"Well, look at that. Not even a year in the tribe and she's already got the lot of you wrapped around her finger. Maybe," she added, pressing a hand to her chest with dramatic flair, "I should become her dear friend."
Faris held her gaze for a long moment.
"Last warning," he said, cold now. "Stay away from her."
He turned and walked off without waiting for a response.
Hayat watched him go, smiled to herself, and headed unhurried toward her own tent.