“The father married off his daughter, who was blind from birth, to a beggar — and what happened afterward surprised many people.” Zainab had never seen the world, but she could feel its cruelty with every breath she took. She was born blind into a family that valued beauty above all else. Her two sisters were admired for their striking eyes and graceful figures, while Zainab was treated as a burden — a shameful secret hidden behind closed doors. Her mother died when she was only five years old, and from that moment on, her father changed. He became bitter, resentful, and cruel — especially toward her. He never called her by her name. He called her “that thing.” He didn’t want her at the table during family meals, nor outside when guests came over. He believed she was cursed, and when she turned twenty-one, he made a decision that would shatter what little remained of her already broken heart. One morning, he entered her small room where she sat quietly, running her fingers over the worn pages of a Braille book, and dropped a folded piece of fabric onto her lap. “You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said flatly. She froze. The words made no sense. Married? To whom? “He’s a beggar from the mosque,” her father continued. “You’re blind. He’s poor. A perfect match.” She felt the blood drain from her face. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She had no choice. Her father never gave her choices. The next day, she was married in a rushed, modest ceremony. She never saw his face, of course — and no one described it to her. Her father pushed her toward the man and told her to take his arm. She obeyed like a ghost in her own body. People laughed behind their hands. “The blind girl and the beggar.”.SAY “YES” IF YOU WANT TO READ THE FULL STORY. THANK YOU.

The world went silent. The sounds of the birds, the water, the wind—all of it vanished, replaced by a roaring in Zainab’s ears. She stumbled back, her cane striking a root, nearly sending her sprawling.

“He’s a liar,” Aminah whispered. “Ask him about the ‘Great Fire of the East.’ Ask him why he can’t show his face in the city.”

Zainab fled. She didn’t use her cane; she ran on instinct and agony, her feet finding the path back to the hut through sheer desperation. She sat in the dark for hours, the cold earth seeping into her bones.

When Yusha returned, the air felt different. The woodsmoke scent of him now smelled like burning deception.

“Zainab?” he asked, sensing the shift. He set a small parcel on the table—bread, perhaps, or a bit of cheese. “What’s happened?”

“Were you always a beggar, Yusha?” she asked. Her voice was hollow, a reed snapping in the wind.

The silence that followed was long and heavy, thick with the things left unsaid.

“I told you once,” he said, his voice stripped of its poetic warmth. “Not always.”

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“My sister found me today. She told me you are a lie. She told me you are hiding. That you use me—my darkness—to keep yourself in the shadows. Tell me the truth. Who are you? And why are you in this hut with a woman you were paid to take away?”

She heard him move. Not away from her, but toward her. He knelt at her feet, his knees hitting the packed dirt with a dull thud. He took her hands in his. They were shaking.

“I was a physician,” he whispered.

Zainab pulled back, but he held on.

“In the city, years ago, there was an outbreak. A fever. I was young, arrogant. I thought I could cure everyone. I worked until I was delirious. I made a mistake, Zainab. A calculation error in a tincture. I didn’t kill a stranger. I killed the daughter of the provincial governor. A girl no older than you.”

Zainab felt the air leave the room.

“They didn’t just strip me of my title,” Yusha continued, his voice cracking. “They burned my home. They declared me dead to the world. I became a beggar because it was the only way to disappear. I went to the mosque to find a way to die slowly. But then, your father came. He spoke of a daughter who was ‘useless.’ A daughter who was a ‘curse.’”

He pressed her hands to his face. She felt the wetness of tears—not hers, but his.

“I didn’t take you because I was paid, Zainab. I took you because when he described you, I realized we were the same. We were both ghosts. I thought… I thought if I could protect you, if I could make you see the world through my words, maybe I could earn my soul back. But then I fell in love with the ghost. And that was never part of the plan.”

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