The Palace of Mazhar was still asleep.
Only the first rays of sunlight dared to brush the cold mosaics on the floor, slipping through the finely carved mashrabiyas. Shadows and light danced like forbidden lovers, caressing the ochre and white stone walls.
In this frozen, silent, almost sacred setting, a figure moved with the softness of a breath.
Nahia.
She already knew the corridors she walked every morning by heart. Not because she felt at home. But because she had learned to avoid others. To become invisible.
That morning, she hadn't spoken to anyone.
She had left the servants' quarters before the rooster even crowed.
Her worn sandals slid across the still-cold marble. She walked quickly, almost breathless. Away from the kitchen, away from the voices, away from the eyes. She didn't know where she was going, but her steps carried her with strange certainty.
And fate led her there.
In front of a forgotten little gate, weathered by time and almost completely hidden behind a blooming jasmine hedge.
She hesitated. Then placed her hand on the aged wood. And pushed.
A soft creak.
A breath of warm air.
And the world changed.
The garden looked like it belonged to another century. Far from grandeur and rules, an untamed beauty reigned here. Ivy had swallowed the columns. Wildflowers burst through the cracked tiles. The fountain in the center was dry, covered in moss, yet majestic in its decay.
And at the back…
Nahia froze.
A lake.
Silent, peaceful, like an offering.
Its dark blue waters reflected the pale morning skies. Bordered by ancient stones, it was half hidden by tall grass and weeping willows whose branches nearly touched the surface. It looked like a forgotten secret, a sacred place.
Nahia stepped forward as if walking into a dream.
Then she sat at the edge, where the light kissed the water. She closed her eyes. Slowly removed her veil. Her dark hair fell in a cascade, with a few rebellious strands she hadn't had the strength to tame.
The silence soothed her.
From now on, this would be one of the rare places in the palace where she could breathe.
Forget who she was.
Or rather, who others believed she was.
But her peace didn't last.
A faint rustle in the leaves.
She turned sharply, heart pounding.
And saw her.
A young woman, straight as an arrow, graceful in posture and with deep eyes, stood a few steps away. Her carefully arranged veil revealed a delicate nape and a regal bearing.
Yasmina.
The Sheikh's sister.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I often come here… I didn't expect to find anyone."
Nahia looked down, panicked. She jumped up, trying to put her veil back on in haste, her fingers trembling.
But Yasmina raised a gentle hand.
"Don't hide. This place is for those who want to escape. Not for those who must conceal themselves."
Nahia stood frozen, torn between fleeing and listening to that voice which, strangely, carried neither command nor judgment.
Yasmina stepped closer, slowly, stopping at a respectful distance.
Then her eyes widened.
She said nothing at first.
Then, in a whisper:
"Your eyes…"
Nahia turned away, heart pounding.
She knew what would follow. Always the same words. Always the same reactions.
"One green. One blue. It's… striking."
A silence.
Nahia whispered:
"A curse."
But Yasmina, to her surprise, smiled.
"No. It's a story. A different kind of beauty."
She gently sat on a flat stone, facing the lake, her movements slow and measured.
"My name is Yasmina. And yours?"
"Nahia."
Silence settled, comfortable.
The wind brushed the leaves. The lake water shimmered softly. A bird sang somewhere, timid.
"How long have you worked here?" Yasmina asked.
"Two weeks."
"And you're already hiding?"
Yasmina gave a half-smile.
"I understand. I too often wanted to disappear into this garden. Especially when they forced dresses on me, promises, marriages I didn't want."
She turned her gaze to Nahia.
"But you carry something else. An old sadness. A heavy silence. It's not just tiredness… It's a wound."
Nahia looked down.
She didn't know why this woman could read her so easily. She didn't like it. But she wasn't afraid either.
There was in that voice an echo of her own pain.
"You're not from here," Yasmina said.
"No."
"And yet… you look like the walls of this palace."
Nahia frowned, confused.
"Silent. Strong. But cracked all over."
A long silence.
Then Yasmina stood.
"This garden is yours too, Nahia. Whenever you want. With or without your veil. With your two strange, beautiful eyes."
She walked away without waiting for a response.
But just as she was about to step through the gate, she paused.
"One day, you'll tell me the story behind those eyes. Not today. But someday."
And she disappeared.
Leaving Nahia alone.
Not because she had been seen.
But because she had been noticed.