Chapter 44: The Tied Varak

The cabin had gone quiet in the way that comes after a long story is finally told. Latifa sat with her elbows on her knees, turning the details over.

"Fate," she said slowly. "A fated pair. That sounds like something out of a fantasy novel." She looked up. "How did you even begin to process that? Accept it?"

"Badly, at first." Halima's mouth twisted with a small, rueful honesty. "I thought I'd lost my mind. But Yahya's family — they didn't rush me. They treated me with more patience and respect than I think I'd ever gotten from anyone. That mattered more than I expected it to."

Latifa's eyes narrowed slightly, a new thought surfacing. "That's actually strange, now that you mention it. Their names. Yahya. Seyyid Mansur. Faris." She tilted her head. "Are they Muslim? Like us?"

"Yes." Halima's voice softened. "It was the first familiar thing I found here. The first thread back to home I could actually hold onto. Our faith gave me a way into this world instead of just being lost in it. I don't know where I would have landed, in my head, without that."

Something in Latifa's face eased, touched despite herself. "I'm glad. Really." A pause. "But — you're coming back with me, aren't you? Once I get this thing running again."

Halima blinked. "Running? You mean to fly it."

"If I can fix it. That's the plan."

"Ah." Halima considered that a moment, unhurried. "No. I'm staying. I like my life here."

Latifa sat back, surprised. "Really? You don't miss your family? Your old life?"

"Truth is, I don't have family back there." Halima said it plainly, no weight behind it. "And what I have here, I like better."

Latifa opened her mouth and then didn't have anywhere to put the sentence. She looked down at her hands.

Halima laughed, low and easy, and reached over to pat her knee. "Don't go quiet on me. It's old news, and I've made my peace with it." She glanced around the cramped cabin. "Do you have any food in this thing?"

"Instant coffee. Some candy." Latifa shrugged. "I usually went back to the main research ship for real meals."

"Then let's eat real food." Halima was already shifting to get up. "I'll have some brought out."

"Food? Out here?" Latifa's eyebrows went up.

"You'd be surprised. It's a lot like farm food back home — hearty, simple. The vegetables look strange, the meat and milk come from animals you've never heard of, but if you've ever had real farm cooking, you'll know the taste. That raw edge to the butter and the milk, the grass in it."

"Oh — yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

"So. Should I ask?"

Latifa hesitated. "You're going to ask... your husband?"

Halima only smiled, and without bothering to step past the hatch, lifted her voice into the wind outside.

"Yahya! We're hungry! Bring us food!"

Outside, Yahya's head came up at once, and he was already turning before the words had finished carrying.

Faris, watching him, bit back a grin and shook his head. "Look at that... One shout and the mighty Seyyid goes running. Seems your wife commands you better than any warlord, brother."

Yahya cast a dry glance over his shoulder, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "It’s called taking care of my family, Faris. You’ll understand soon enough... if you learn to keep quiet."

He clapped a hand on Faris's shoulder as he passed. "I'll fetch the food. Stay here — maybe Halima takes pity on you and finds a way to bring you in too."

An hour later he came back with a covered tray balanced against one hip: a pot of meat stew still ticking with heat, a jug of pale sherbet sweating in the warm air, and flatbread wrapped in cloth, steam still rising when he lifted the corner.

Latifa's stomach turned over at the smell before she'd even seen the food properly. She hadn't eaten anything hot in over a day.

They settled cross-legged on the floor with the tray between them. Halima murmured bismillah under her breath before her first bite, a habit so worn into her now she barely noticed doing it. Latifa didn't murmur anything. She just ate, fast and a little graceless, and Halima watched her with quiet satisfaction and said nothing about it.

When the bowls were empty and pushed aside, they leaned back against the bulkhead, and Halima let one hand settle over the curve of her belly, the way she did without thinking anymore.

Latifa noticed. "How far along are you?"

"Seven months."

"Seven?" Latifa's eyes went wide. "I've never been pregnant, but that looks like more than seven months to me."

Halima huffed a small laugh. "It is, in a way. The midwife explained it — the men here run bigger and taller than us, you've seen that for yourself. The baby's taken after his father's size. To them he'll come out an ordinary newborn. To me, he's enormous."

"How are you even preparing for that?"

"I eat dates every day. The midwife says it helps — strengthens things, eases the labor, gives you energy when you need it most." Halima's voice stayed even. "We have a plan. It'll be hard, but it's a real plan." A small pause. "And beyond that — I've tied my varak, and I leave the rest to Allah."

Latifa blinked. "Tied your what?"

Halima laughed, catching herself. "Sorry. Local saying, you wouldn't know it yet." She tipped her head toward the hatch. "A varak is one of those big riding beasts outside. If you don't tie it down at night, it wanders off. Tying it means doing everything you actually can — preparing, eating right, following every bit of advice you're given. But once the knot's tied, whether the rope holds or the animal spooks anyway, that part isn't up to you anymore." She looked down at her hands. "So whatever's past my control, I hand over to God. I can't know how the birth goes. I've just done what's mine to do."

Latifa was quiet for a moment, turning it over. "That's... actually a good way to think about it. Keeps you from carrying things you were never meant to carry."

"Exactly. Letting go of what I can't control — it's given me more peace than anything else has." Halima glanced sideways at her. "Will you stay here tonight, or come back with us?"

"I'll stay here tonight."

"Does it get cold? Do you have enough blankets?"

"I've got everything I need."

"Good." Halima pushed herself up slowly, one hand braced on the wall. "Then I'll come see you again tomorrow. Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye," Latifa said, and meant it more warmly than she'd expected to.

Halima ducked through the hatch into the last of the daylight, where the wind was still moving the sand in long low waves, and Yahya was already there, watching for her, his hand out before she'd even reached the edge.