And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.

—

The golden sun rays seep in through the living room glass wall and ease into the brilliance of his irises, melting into them, lightening them up yet burning out in there, making them look like dying ambers and molten lava— making them look predatory and unnatural. But the childlike curiosity in his eyes tugs at the strings of her heart, so innocent that she cannot resist. Burq might cut her with his sharp edges yet she cannot help running her fingers over them. Leyla feels spellbound.

He releases the strand of her hair he has been playing with and leans forward attentively. "Continue," he requests.

She smiles and proceeds with the story she has been telling him, "Upon being caught, the wife of his master starts putting allegations upon him, asking her husband what punishment he must give his slave for trying to harass his wife. A trial was run and Yusuf was proven innocent, yet was sent to the prison for a crime he never committed."

He chuckles humorlessly. "Ah, cruel, cruel world full of hypocrites."

"Fear is an intense emotion," she replies.

"So is passion, my love."

She dismisses the sarcasm in his comment and returns to the story. "Yusuf was in prison for many years, but remained steadfast and patient, and continued to worship God and sought His help. Then once two men came to him in the prison who were prisoners too, saying how Yusuf appeared a righteous man to them and they both had seen dreams they wanted him to interpret for them. Like his father Yaqub, the knowledge of interpretation of dreams was revealed upon Yusuf in prison and thus, he interpreted their dreams for them, telling one of them was going to be executed and that the other one would be released of prison. Yusuf asked the man who he told would be set free to mention him to their king, and he agreed. Soon after, the interpretation of their dreams came true, and one of them was executed while the other one was released. But he forgot to mention Yusuf to the king."

Subconsciously, Leyla fidgets with the sleeve of Burq's sweater, then let it go and traces a line up his wrist to his palm with her index finger. He opens his hand to her and she randomly draws circles on it.

"Time passed," she continues, "and then one day the king had a dream. He asked around his palace if anyone could interpret it for him, but no one could. And then, the prisoner who was released suddenly thought of Yusuf and remembered what he had asked him. He mentioned Yusuf to the king, and the king demanded his presence. And Yusuf, of course, by God's divine knowledge bestowed upon him interpreted the king's dream for him, telling him how the lands were going to see seven good years of planting and harvesting, and to save during that, before comes seven difficult years of famine. The king was satisfied with his interpretation, and released him from the prison and decided to give him an important government position. Thus, Yusuf became the treasurer of Egypt."

She pauses, looking up at Burq from his palm and finds him staring intently at her. She raises an eyebrow questioningly and he mimics her.

"Why did you stop?" he asks.

"You've been silent."

"You like interruptions?" he jokes and she cannot help chuckling.

"Stop staring, Burq."

"Why?"

"Your eyes are a distraction."

He grins, lowering his gaze to their hands and locks his fingers with hers. His canines are a bit pointed, a bit predatory, yet make him look more attractive to her, as if displaying a wild side to this man— as if a beast tamed.

"So obviously," Leyla begins again, "the king's dream came true too. And when the famine hit the lands, one day, who Yusuf sees come to him?"

"His brothers."

"Exactly. And where he recognized them right away, they didn't recognize him. They conversed, and Yusuf asked them about their family— his father, his brother from the same mother. They told him how their father had gone blind crying after their brother who died in his youth, and how he wouldn't let their younger brother, Binyamin, go anywhere for the fear of losing him too. So Yusuf insisted they bring their younger brother with them the next time they'd come to him or he wouldn't give them grain to buy, and they had no choice but to agree. When they went back home to Palestine and told their father, prophet Yaqub felt compelled to listen to them. And so, he let Binyamin go with them the next time, but with the promise to return him back safely."

Burq brushes his thumb over hers. "And Yusuf tricked them?"

"He did. When they came to him, Yusuf put a gold cup in his brother Binyamin's bag. And when they were returning, he spoke up that a gold cup was missing and asked his men to check everyone's bags. When they did, the cup was obviously found in Binyamin's bag, and as per traditions of that time for theft, he asked for him to stay behind with him in Egypt. Now his other brothers, who were his half brothers, said how Binyamin was the same as their once upon a brother, Yusuf— not good enough. And they worried themselves with how they would face their father now, and just to tell him his son was found a thief and had to stay behind as a punishment. So they returned home without Binyamin, and Yaqub upon being faced with the loss of another son, turned to God and remained patient."

"And they had to go back to Egypt again for food?"

"Yes, and they begged Yusuf then to have mercy upon them, and told him about their father's condition. And then Yusuf told him who he was, and they were stunned." Leyla smiles, resting her head on the cushion beside him. "They asked for his forgiveness, and he forgave them. Yusuf gave them his shirt to take to their father, and to bring their family with them from Palestine to Egypt. When they took his shirt to prophet Yaqub and placed it upon his eyes, his eyesight returned. He cried in joy that he could smell Yusuf on it. And so, they all went to Egypt, and the father and son reunited. Yusuf became the king of Egypt. He seated his parents on his throne, and his parents and eleven brothers, all bowed down to him out of respect; such prostration wasn't forbidden at that time. From a slave, he became a king. And so, you see, the dream Yusuf saw in his childhood came true: the sun, his father, the moon, his mother, and eleven stars as his eleven brothers were all bowing down to him. God made him a chosen one— His noble prophet," she finishes.

Burq smiles at her warmly. "Beautiful."

"Doubtlessly. His story teaches us to have faith in God, remain steadfast and patient during hardships, seek refuge with God from sinful desires, and to forgive." She cups the side of his face, fixing his eyes meaningfully before repeating, stressing, "To forgive."

He sighs heavily and hugs her to himself. She rests her head on his chest, letting silence settle between them as she listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. He buries his nose in her hair and she puts her arm around her torso. Seconds tick and she stares at the fire, her mind having a chaos of thoughts, before closing her eyes.

"Leyla?"

She hums without looking at him.

"Why did you leave me, qalbi?"

Her body stiffens as she curls her fingers into his sweater. Burq presses her to himself as she tries to pull away.

"Tell me without looking at me. I've no courage to look you in the eyes while listening to my sins," he says.

She inhales deeply, taking in a whiff of his cologne. He smells of addiction and cravings, of deep rooted desires and tender blessings— he smells like all her longings. Leyla nuzzles his chest.

"How much do you remember of my past?"

"All of what you told me, but little of what came next." Burq rubs her arm up and down. "He was your betrothed; your brother was his sister's. Your families were friends. Your brother married another one and it angered him. And then you refused to marry him and he murdered your brother," he narrates briefly.

"Correct," Leyla affirms weakly.

"And to break off your relationship, you went to him at night," he speaks and her heart slams against her breastbone. "He made you stay the night with him."

"Yes." She swallows. "That was my mistake," she accepts without giving him explanations.

"He didn't come near you that night. But he used the chance to violate your reputation."

She doesn't answer. She knows this was the talk that had cracked their marriage in the past.

"And you were forced to marry him," Burq continues. "But his sister saved you last minute."

His voice is steady and doesn't hold any rage. It assures her a little— he trusts her. He must.

"Asfandyar and I could've everything between us, but not love," she tells him. "He was powerful and used to getting what he wanted. Maybe I would've married him even without that love. But God chose you for me." She places her hand over his heart, feeling it thudding. "And He chose the best for me."

"But you left me because I hurt you too," he confesses in a whisper. "Tell me how?"

"The night you left me on the road amidst nowhere in a crazy weather," she exhales shakily, "a man found me. He helped me and brought me back home." She hesitates, not knowing if it's wise to tell him everything, for his own sake and herself, or how to tell him.

"And then?"

His voice tells her he himself is dreading the worst. And she gathers her guts to say it.

"And then you asked me who was he and I told you just someone who helped me." She clenches her teeth before easing her jaw. "But you said how I was a woman of many men and you were ashamed of me as your wife. So I left you to save your shame."

A heavy silence settles between them again, but this time it's penetrating and vibrating with tension. He's still embracing her, but now his touch feels distant. They haven't once looked each other in the eyes while speaking.

"What have I done to you, Leyla?" he mutters brokenly, shamefully, after a long while. "I've torn apart your heart. How are you still with me?"

She smiles, finally pulling away and meeting his gaze. His gaze shies away from her. She cups his cheek and turns him to face her.

"Because the one to stitch back my heart together has also been you."

He shakes his head and holds her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. "Forgive me, my love. Forgive me please."

Her heart aches and trembles at his pain. She breathes shakily. "I told you I already did."

"Leyla." He moves away, clutching her hands in his. "I'll forgive Raad and Doha. I'll reconcile with my family."

She grins at him. "You will?"

He nods and smiles faintly. "But I've a condition."

His conditions. She chuckles softly. "What?"

"Come home with me, qalbi."

She blinks, taken aback. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Why do you sound so surprised? You're my wife."

"Do you even remember our wedding?"

"I do, actually. And I don't like it." He tugs her closer and smirks. "So, marry me?"

She raises both eyebrows. "Again?"

He leans forward and pecks the arches of her eyebrows. "Yes, again. We'll do it from our hearts this time, properly."

A sense of euphoria makes her dizzy; it feels like flowing in her vein, burying deep in her bones. For a moment, she thinks of breaking all the rules, forgetting all her principles, as the lines of her purpose blurs. But reality is too harsh to ignore. He's all the colors in her sky, and she's but a spectator.

Leyla smiles but doesn't respond.

"We'll ride camels together in the desert," Burq adds jokingly before becoming serious again, "I want to start a life with you, habibi."

She remains quite and he inches closer, nudging her nose with his. Burq brushes his lips against hers and her heart stops beating.

"Someday, Burq," she whispers against his lips.

"No, qalbi. No man can live without his heart even for one day. I want now. I want this."

And he presses his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

➳

➳