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«Come on, Fatima! You will like him!»
What was it this time? Last time, Prince Hulegu dragged her like that because he wanted to set her up with some cook. For some reason, he has been obsessed lately with finding a good match for her. It’s not that much that she was against marriage, she wasn’t just looking for anyone at the moment. She didn’t need anyone. All she needed was to get her hands on the Euclid’s Elements. That’s all she could think about. She didn’t need some man distracting her from her goal.
«Prince Hulegu, I appreciate your worry about my absent marriage, but I am fine with that.»
«Please, just meet him! If you meet him, I won’t try to set you up with anyone ever again!»
Fatima could only keep on her awkward smile, while rolling her eyes in her mind. He says that every single time. And then he comes up with someone again! What was even the purpose of it? Even his mother asked him to stop trying to set her up, but he just couldn’t give up, could he?
Finally, they stopped. Hulegu let go of her hand and ran towards a man standing a little farther from them. He was a little taller than her and maybe just a couple of years older. At least this time it wasn’t some old man. He was dressed in all blue, but it didn’t look too bad on him. A strange sense of familiarity filled her while she was looking at him. She couldn’t have met him anywhere before, could she?
Maybe she had seen him in the camp, and that’s why. Whatever. It’s not like she cared. She would just greet him and then come up with an excuse to leave. Just like she did all those times before. It’s not like anyone could stop her from leaving to do her duties, right?
«Muhammad, that’s –»
«Young Master Muhammad?»
She knew as soon as she saw his face. She knew this face. She knew this name. She couldn’t even process when she switched to Persian or when she said his name out loud. Even if she was mistaken, it didn’t matter. She ignored Prince’s confused “Huh” on her side and just stared at the face in front of her. He looked older, of course, but his face still looked familiar enough to distinguish it. The same round face, the same sharp, knowing eyes. The same way his head tilts when he’s thinking about something. Surely it was him. Surely she wasn’t just confused and mistaken this time, right?
«Sitara?...»
She watched as his eyes widened, his head got back in place, his shoulders lightly fell, and his mouth stayed just slightly open. It was him. It was her Muhammad. The Muhammad she was sure was dead somewhere in Nishapur. He was standing right in front of her. Was it just another dream she had? Who cares. Even if it was, she was still happy to see him.
She made a step towards him, trying to reach out to him, but her legs just went weak as the tears streamed down her face. She could only cover her mouth, trying to silence her crying, but it was just so hard. It was her Muhammad. He was alive. He was alive and well right in front of her. The tears felt so hot on her face, but she just didn’t care. She was just happy to see him. She just sat on the ground with her head down, crying.
A gentle touch to her cheek, brushing her hand away and slowly lifting her head up. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, but she still opened her eyes, even though she was still sobbing hard. And that’s when she was met with the same look from many years ago. When she had just come into the household and was crying about going back home. It was the same pitiful look he gave her back then before dragging her to the roof with him. This time, it wasn’t filled with determination, but with sorrow.
But it was indeed him. It was her same Muhammad. The same Muhammad that left Tus, the same Muhammad that would always help her study, the same Muhammad that gave her the will to go further and study more. She just couldn’t believe her eyes. Even if it was a dream, she would regret it later, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to him and wrapping her hands around him, hiding her face in his shoulder, as her cry got louder. She was just so happy to see him again.
Sitara couldn’t be happier. For the last couple of years spent in Mongolia, she finally managed to feel somewhat happy. Like there was actually something waiting for her. She didn’t care about the rules at that moment, she didn’t care about anything. All she cared about was that her Muhammad was right in front of her.
But she wasn’t the only one crying. She could feel how Muhammad’s hands wrapped around her, clenching the clothes on her back, how his face pressed against her head, how the tears were slightly wetting her hijab. But she didn’t care about it. She could just lay it near the fire for it to dry later. Or it would just dry on her. But the most important thing was that it was him. Her Muhammad. And he seemed to be as happy to see her as she was to see him.
«I feel like I’m missing out on something. Fatima, is the match successful this time or not?»
The Prince couldn’t withstand missing out on something, could he? Just when she found some comfort, he had to remind her of where she was. For a moment, she was back in Tus, the night before Muhammad left for Nishapur. They were sitting on the roof, as usual, wrapped in each other’s arms. They knew it was something they mustn’t do, but they just couldn’t resist it. But this time, they were going to see each other again. This time, they wouldn’t be separated for who knows how long.
But she needed to give the Prince an answer. Otherwise, he wouldn’t leave her alone for the longest time. Or try to match her with someone else. She didn’t need anyone else. But answering him meant letting go of Muhammad. And she didn’t want to do that... Besides, she needed to tell him about what happened with their family... But telling him here might be even worse...
Maybe she could catch him later? Or she could just drag him around with her everywhere before finally having some free time to talk again? But what if he didn’t want to talk to her again? What if that one meeting would be enough for him? It surely isn’t enough for her, but... She had a better idea.
«Maybe you could come to my tent tonight? After you are done with your duties? We can talk then maybe, since Prince Hulegu won’t let us do it now.»
«What are you whispering there about! I also want to know!»
Sitara was sure that she was whispering closest to Muhammad’s ear and nobody else would hear her, but apparently, the Prince could hear everything. She slowly moved back, sitting down on her legs properly, but still hesitant to let her hands go of the man in front of her. He was hesitant himself, but slowly put one of his hands down on his own knee, while with the other gently grabbed her face and wiped away the tears that were still in her eyes. She wanted to lean more into the touch, but she could only wipe his tears with both of her hands before standing up and putting her work smile back on her face.
«Yes, Prince Hulegu, the match is more than a success. I’m pretty sure your mother wanted us to come back as soon as we are done. Why don’t we go see her?»
Thankfully, the young prince didn’t need much convincing. Especially from Fatima. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have this much luck, but the important thing was that it always worked when she did it. The young boy started running as soon as he heard his mother being mentioned, so all she had to do was to follow him. Before leaving, however, she looked back once, just to make sure that it wasn’t just some dream or hallucination.
She met his eyes. His fingers were slightly covering his mouth as if he was thinking about something. But his eyes were watching her carefully, intensely, as if studying her. But then, he just blinked quickly and opened his mouth for a second, but no sound came out. His face got red quickly, and he turned slightly away, covering his face with his hand. He didn’t change one bit, did he? She just smiled to herself and sent him an air kiss before turning back and continuing to walk.
Sitara could feel her own face becoming warmer. How come he never actually changed? It was so cute teasing him with an air kiss. She wished she could see his reaction, but instead she picked up the pace, trying to catch up to the Prince and shaking her head. She needed to focus. She still had a full day of work ahead of her, she couldn’t be distracted.
Finally, she got back to her tent. All she wanted to do was just sit down and rest. After meeting him, she couldn’t concentrate on anything at all. All she could think about was Muhammad. And Lady Sorghaghtani noticed that pretty quickly, unfortunately. She just couldn’t hide her excitement, who could blame her? Later, she ought to thank Prince Hulegu for helping her meet Muhammad again.
She just couldn’t wait to meet him. She had to do something about it. She wasn’t really hungry, so she couldn’t distract herself with food. She also wanted to get out of those clothes, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to meet Muhammad in the nightgarments, would it? To be fair, they were covering her fully... And as long as she didn’t take the hijab off, he couldn’t really tell her anything, could he? She could always just throw an overlayer on, and that’s it.
So, Sitara changed. She had no idea when he would come, so she had to do it quickly. But while putting the nightgarments on, she couldn’t help but start worrying. What if he wouldn’t actually come? What if he didn’t want to see her? What if he was in love with someone else already and wouldn’t meet her because of that? Was she in love with him? Could she say that she was after not seeing him for a decade? Wouldn’t it be weird if she did? She just couldn’t forget him. And when she saw him, she felt like it was something more than just missing him. Of course, there was a relief from knowing now that he was actually alive, but could she say that she felt something more and other than that? Did she have the right to? Why did she get so sad when thinking about him being with someone else?
«May I come in?»
She looked over to the entrance. He came... He actually came! She couldn’t resist a wide smile on her face and quickly stood up from her place. Thankfully, she finished putting the garments on before he came in. He looked exactly the same as during the day. It wasn’t the dream. It was actually happening. She slowly approached him with a curious look on her face.
She didn’t touch him, just looked at him, studied him. How much had he changed from the last time they saw each other all those years ago? He got taller and wider, but still looked pretty slim, though his shoulders were definitely wider than hers. Even if not that much. But he still didn’t have a beard... How funny. All those years and still not a sight of it. But before she got even a chance to tease him about it, he pulled her into a hug.
«Don’t say anything, Sitara, please... Just... Let us stand like that.»
And she didn’t. Who cares about the rules? Surely Allah would forgive them, considering that she thought he was dead. She didn’t fight him away. Instead, she hugged him back, pressing her cheek against the man’s head on her shoulder. His breathing was changing from slow to fast, finally stopping at fast as she heard sobbing next to her ear. Then the shoulder felt wet, but it didn’t feel too cold. She just stood there and caressed his back without a word. It’s not like they needed any words.
At first, she was just happy to hold him again. To have him so close to her. But then she got goose bumps. She knew exactly why. It was at the back of her back, hidden where she wouldn’t see it, think it, remember it. But she did remember. And the guilt started eating her alive. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to feel the relief of at least one person being alive. She didn’t deserve his hands around her, his tears on her shoulder, his trust... She was the reason his mother died. She was the one guilty of his mother’s death. If it weren’t for her, he could’ve met his mother, not her. If it weren’t for her, the Mistress would be standing in her place right now, holding her son. Sometimes she preferred to think that maybe it wasn’t that bad that Mistress died, the physical work might’ve been hard on her. But then she might’ve been able to meet her son once again if she didn’t die back in Tus. She didn’t even give her a proper burial.
Sitara dropped to her knees with her face down, not daring to look up at the Young Master. She should stop calling him by name. She was just a slave at his house. She was in no position to act the way she did. He wasn’t her Muhammad, he was her Young Master. She already did too much. She already allowed herself too much. She didn’t deserve this. The Young Master didn’t deserve to find out from the reason for his mother’s death about it. Before she could process anything, the tears just started streaming down her face on her hands.
«Young Master, I’m so sorry... I’m sorry... It’s all my fault... Please, forgive me, Young Master... I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please...»
Her voice was barely a whisper. Probably the crackling of wood in the fire was louder than her voice. To make things worse, because of sobbing, she was stuttering. The words didn’t make sense, she couldn’t understand herself what she was saying. All she knew was that she had to beg for forgiveness.
«First of all, stand up, Sitara... Please, no more of those “Young Master”. We are technically on the same level here. Just call me by name like when we were kids. Second of all, calm down. What happened? Should I get you some water?»
How could he do this to her? How could he just help her up and sit her down on the chair like that? How could he wipe the tears from her face while holding it? How could she tell him that because of her foolishness, his mother was killed? How could he call her his equal?
How could she tell him when he was looking at her like that? When he was looking at her with his wide, full of worry eyes? But she had to tell him. Even if she would never see him again after that. Even if he would hate her and blame her. She had to tell. She had to tell everything. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second before tilting her head down to not meet his eyes.
«Mistress was killed by the Mongols. Just like Uncle and Anis were. Zummurrud died because of illness, as it seemed. I... Before the Mongols came, they left me and Mistress in the house with everything and said that they would return in three days... Unfortunately, in three days we were met with Mongols instead... They took away the Euclid’s Elements. I wanted to get it back for Mistress since it was an important book for her, but instead they raised a sword. If it hadn’t been for Mistress, I would be dead... It’s all my fault she’s dead... Everyone else was captured by Mongols... I should’ve at least tried to protect the Mistress... I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect her, I’m so sorry...»
She was sure he was just going to leave. Or yell at her. Her job was so easy, yet she failed at it completely. She could feel the tears going down her cheeks, but she just wiped them away. She didn’t deserve to cry. It was her fault after all. She just had to accept whatever fate Muhammad would come up with for her. She opened her mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. She couldn’t say anything. Maybe it would be best if she just left the tent to let him process what she just said without the culprit being present.
But before she could even think about standing up, she felt a head slamming against her chest, as the two hands gripped the clothes on her shoulders. She was just looking down at him, doing nothing at first. She could feel the tears on her robe, but it was only understandable. She herself was still crying almost every night. She wanted to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. It didn’t matter. If she shouldn’t have done it, he would just scold her later. But for now, she was his shoulder to cry on. She carefully wrapped her hands around him. One of her hands went up to his neck, just gently playing with the sticking out of the turban hair. While the other hand stayed on his back, caressing it up and down.
The humming melody left her mouth on its own. Just a quiet humming lullaby. She didn’t know many. All she knew were the ones that Mistress sang her while braiding her hair. Or if she couldn’t sleep. She would sometimes hum it to herself when she couldn’t fall asleep. And now she was humming it to Muhammad. Hoping it would provide some comfort. It did provide her comfort sometimes. So maybe it would help him as well.
They sat like that for a while. He was sobbing into her chest, still gripping her shoulders weakly while she hummed him the lullabies. Then for a while the only sound in the tent was the cracking of the wood. She was still caressing the man’s back and playing carefully with his little hairs. He didn’t move at all. They just sat in silence. She wanted to lean back a little to be able to see his face. Maybe he had fallen asleep from all the crying? Or maybe something was wrong...
«You shouldn’t blame yourself, Sitara... It’s not your fault... At least now I know they are all in a better place... I would rather know that and have you by my side now than still just hope one of them is somewhere out there... I’m just happy you are here...»
He looked up at her. His whole face was wet, his eyes still had tears in them. He tried to give her a smile, but the corners of his mouth could barely move. She just brought both of her hands to his face, gently cupping it in her palms. With her thumbs, she started wiping his face. Slowly, carefully, as if she was afraid of hurting him. As if she could hurt him more after telling him about his mother’s death. She had been told not to blame herself before, but she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t reach for the book, if she didn’t speak up, the Mistress would’ve still been alive. Or maybe the Mongols would’ve killed her later... But she was still responsible for the way her Mistress died.
«But if it wasn’t for me–»
«Sitara, it doesn’t matter. Mother chose to save you. You can’t be blamed for the choices of others... Besides, if I’m being completely honest, I am a little glad she’s dead... Mongolia might’ve been too harsh for her... That way, at least she died at home, surrounded by the place she loved... I’m sure her and father reunited faster thanks to that. Don’t blame yourself, please.»
Sitara could only stare at him. He had this serious look in his eyes. He was scolding her, sort of, after all. They just stared like that at each other. She could feel her cheeks becoming warmer by the second, but she could also see that he was blushing as well from so up close. Now she could take a really good look at his face. Of course it changed, but it still looked familiar enough. But there was still no beard. Well, if she took a really good look at his chin, then she could see some hairs starting to grow, but they weren’t even big enough to count as something. She couldn’t help but smile a little at that.
Then she raised her eyes back to his. He still had sort of a mixed look of sadness and seriousness, but there was something else as well. She just couldn’t figure out what. She slightly opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, his face started getting closer. Slowly. Going on the same level as hers. They were already too close, but now he was getting just way too close. Their lips were practically touching. Did he want to kiss her? But wasn’t it too fast? Wasn’t it too weird? Wouldn’t that be even worse than what they were already doing? Surely just some prayers wouldn’t get that off them, would it?
But they didn’t touch. Instead, his head went past hers and got comfortable on her shoulder, while his hands went from her shoulders down to her waist and wrapped around her there. Was he always this clingy? Why all of a sudden? Usually she was the one teasing him with being clingy, but he was the only clingy here. It’s not like she was complaining about it, though. She just placed her hands on his back and started gently scratching it with just her fingertips. Maybe she could lighten the mood somehow... She hasn’t managed to tease him yet... And now seemed to be the perfect opportunity.
«You know, if Uncle saw us right now, he would probably lecture us about how it’s hara–»
«Oh, please! We will just pray it off. Or it wouldn’t count if we get married, so who cares.»
They get married? Them?! Get married?! Wasn’t this too much? She felt her head getting a little dizzy. Yes, that’s why Prince Hulegu made them meet, but... Wouldn’t that be too fast? They just met again! It’s not like she was against marrying Muhammad out of all people, but... This all was just so sudden! Just yesterday she could only wonder to herself if he died in Nishapur or managed to get away, and now he was sitting in front of her and holding her in his arms.
Her face felt too hot. She slightly leaned back and fell off the edge. She was prepared to hit the floor with her back, but she wasn’t falling at all. She opened her eyes in confusion while Muhammad was pulling her back up to sitting. But she couldn’t sit anymore. She had to stand up and walk around, preferably in a way that her face wouldn’t be visible to him. How come her teasing played so much against her!
«M... Marriage?!»
She couldn’t turn around to face him. She just stood with her back to him, covering her face in embarrassment. Can they actually get married? It’s not like they couldn’t come up with something if she asked Lady Sorghaghtani... She would probably do everything she can to make their wedding happen should they just ask. She wasn’t that much against it, but... What about Muhammad?
«Yes. I would love to marry you if you want to marry me, of course.»
Sitara carefully looked back over her shoulder. He sat with both of his legs down and together, leaning slightly towards her. His elbow was on his knee, while his face was partly covered with his hand. He had his head turned away, probably in an attempt to hide his blush, but his eyes were still watching her closely.
She felt a chill run down her spine. He just looked so good. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve kissed him. But could she actually marry him?... Of course she wanted to marry him, her willingness was out of the question. But did she have the right to?... She knew he said that Mistress chose to save her... But Mistress also wanted her to be right beside him... And that’s what she wanted. So technically... She could marry him, right? There was just one problem...
«We need to come up with something... We need to come up with the story of how we know each other. They think I am a daughter of a scholarly family, not a slave! Muhammad, think of something! You are the smarter one of the two of us!»
She turned around to the man in a panic, but he seemed so calm. He straightened his back and took a good, long look at her. How was that supposed to help?! She wanted to say something more, but instead her mouth quickly closed as he pulled her to sit down next to him. She just stared at him, while he studied her face for some more time before finally smiling at her.
«What if we say that we were neighbours...»
Truly a genius! Of course he would come up with something! But they needed a fuller story than that... Maybe Lady Sorghaghtani would be satisfied with an answer like that, but Prince Hulegu... Surely he would demand more. He wouldn’t let them go without telling him the whole story...
«Yes! We used to be neighbours, and both of our families were scholars. And because of that, we were all pretty close. So they decided that we should get married when we would be of age. And to add some pity, we can say that we were supposed to get married anytime soon, but we never managed because of the Mongols! And then Lady Sorghaghtani will feel bad for us and will let us ask her for anything! And we will ask for Euclid’s Elements back!»
Her plan was flawless! If she put her amazing acting skills to use and pulled the tears out of her while telling it, surely they would be left with no choice but to give them anything they wanted! And there was nothing else but the book for them. She just needed to get her hands on it, and her goal would finally be met.
She was just fantasising about it when a cough caught her attention. She tilted her head in confusion. It didn’t sound like he was sick, so why was he coughing now? Was her plan so good it took his breath away? Of course it was good. She learnt from Muhammad after all.
«It’s all good and amazing, but Sitara... They will probably just offer us to get married instead... Unless you don’t want to, then we can come up with some–»
«Of course I want to! Who wouldn’t want to marry you?!»
Her hands flew to her mouth to cover it in a second. She didn’t mean to say that! She didn’t mean to admit it out loud like that! Her cheeks were just on fire! How could she embarrass herself like that? She should just seal her mouth with something before she said anything else. She just started to shake her head, trying to maybe calm down, or maybe to convince herself that it wasn’t as bad as it actually was, she didn’t know anymore.
But she couldn’t shake her head for long. Muhammad carefully took both of her hands down and just stared at her. And she couldn’t help but stare back into his deep eyes that felt as though they were dragging her deeper. His hands felt so soft on top of hers. And they were way too close again.
And he was getting even closer. They didn’t touch, but all she could look at was either his eyes or his lips. And his lips looked so nice... So soft... They probably felt really nice too... She just wanted to cut the distance between them, to smack her lips into his, to forget about everything and anything. But she was still a nice, pristine, muslim girl. That would surely wait until marriage.
So she quickly stood up from her place, trying to look anywhere but disappointed Muhammad behind her, while her own face was on fire. Now she was just wishing she had actually kissed him. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so awkward. But it was already pretty late, wasn’t it? She had lots of work to do tomorrow, so it would be best to go to sleep... But she also wanted to stay with him a little longer...
«It’s so late already... Perhaps you should head back?»
She carefully took a step towards the entrance, showing with her hand to it, while looking over her shoulder at the man. He indeed looked sad and disappointed. It was just too much for her to take! His sad look down, the corners of his mouth looking down, even his eyebrows! He just wanted to make her feel guilty and let him stay, didn’t he?
He stood up from the seat slowly and walked towards her. He didn’t attempt to kiss her this time, but he just stood and stared at her. And she stared back. He reached out to her bangs next to her ear and just twisted them a little before letting go of them and walking towards the entrance.
«I would rather prefer to stay with you, but yeah... Today you can get rid of me, but don’t think you will so easily next time... I will see you tomorrow, Sitara.»
What was he talking about! How could he be so shameless! She could only turn her head away and stomp her foot lightly, showing off her dissatisfaction. But as an answer, she just got a little chuckle. She looked over at him again. His red cheeks looked so pretty... And he was leaving anyway... It’s not like he would suddenly stay when he was almost out, would he?
«Wait!»
She quickly came up to him and grabbed him by the collar. Rude? Sure. But she was about to make up for it. She reached up slightly with her head and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Just a quick one. Nothing more and nothing less. That would be enough to make him feel less disappointed.
«I will see you tomorrow, Muhammad.»
While she was still reaching up to him, she quickly whispered it in his ear. That was surely enough to satisfy him. So she pushed him out of the tent before he could possibly see her red face. It was surely on fire. As soon as he was out, she took off her hijab and carefully put it with the rest of her clothes. Then she jumped into her bed and put her face into the pillow before screaming in it.
She couldn’t believe herself! She was supposed to be pristine! She wasn’t supposed to kiss him! She was just supposed to see him off! What has gotten into her?! They had such a sad talk about what happened with their family, and then all she could think about was just kissing him?! Of course, she was trying to distract herself with anything else, but it was so hard! He wanted it as well! He reached to kiss her so many times, and she just refused all of them! Why did she have to be so stubborn?! So now, all she had left to do was to just scream into the pillow in frustration with herself.