Silence still reigned in the palace corridors, suspended in those precious moments when night gently fades before dawn. In that fragile bubble, Nahia walked with light steps, her empty basket nestled in the crook of her arm. She was heading to the greenhouse, savoring the peace of these stolen hours before the chaos of day. Between dew and rising light, the world seemed to hold its breath.
But a voice broke the soothing calm:
— Miss Nahia?
She stopped abruptly. A guard stood there, straight-backed, visibly hesitant.
— Yes? she replied, raising an eyebrow.
— There's… a man at the gate. He says he knows you. And… he has something for you.
— A man? she repeated, puzzled.
— He didn't give his name. But he insisted it was important.
She frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. At least… not that she knew of.
— Very well. I'll go.
What she didn't know was that a silhouette, hidden in the shadow of a nearby column, had heard everything.
Assad.
A chill ran up his spine, his jaw clenched.
A man? Who comes all the way here… for her?
A dull fire lit in his chest. He remained still, but his thoughts raced.
Why do I feel this way? he wondered, breath short. I shouldn't… And yet, the idea of another man waiting for her is enough to drive me mad.
He looked away, fought the urge to follow her, and forced himself to continue toward the Council Chamber. His stride was firm, but his heart wavered.
Throughout the entire meeting, he was absent. The voices of the advisors were mere distant murmurs. He stared at an invisible point, fists clenched.
A suitor? A lover? Someone come to take her away?
He needed answers. And he would get them.
---
Meanwhile, Nahia crossed the gardens at a measured pace. As she neared the large wrought-iron gate, she saw the man. Leaning on a cane, dressed in a modest but clean tunic.
When he lifted his head, her heart skipped a beat.
— Uncle Ahmed? she whispered, incredulous.
His face was weathered by the years, ravaged by remorse. But above all, she saw the unexpected: tears.
— Nahia… my child… How are you? I beg your forgiveness… Please, forgive me. And your sister, where is she?
She froze, breath caught. Part of her had hoped for this moment. The other… remained wary.
— What are you doing here?
— I searched for you everywhere. And yesterday, at the market, a palace maid overheard me describing two young girls. She said she knew someone here. So… I came.
He pulled an envelope from his coat and held it out to her.
— A few months ago, a woman came to see me. Giulietta Ferrano. She claimed to be your mother's sister. She was looking for you. She left this letter for you.
Nahia took the envelope, her hand trembling.
— My mother's sister? she murmured.
— Yes.
She clutched the letter to her chest.
Why now? Why come back after all we've been through?
— Thank you… uncle. For the letter. And for coming.
He nodded, eyes red.
— If you ever find it in your heart to forgive me… I'll be in the same place.
Then he turned and walked away.
---
In her room, Nahia sat, shaken. She had to tell Amaya.
She went down to the kitchens. The scent of warm bread and freshly cut herbs filled the air. She found her sister focused, laughing with the cooks.
— Amaya? she murmured.
The young girl looked up, surprised.
— You came to help? I'm almost done…
— No. Come, please. It's important.
Amaya took off her apron. Seeing the serious expression on Nahia's face, she knew this wasn't just a whim.
They went upstairs together in silence.
Once inside their room, Nahia closed the door and spoke:
— Uncle Ahmed came to see me. He gave me a letter… From a woman named Giulietta. She claims to be Mama's sister.
Amaya's eyes widened.
— Her sister?!
— He says she came shortly after we left. That she was looking for us. And she left this.
She handed her the letter.
Amaya brushed it with her fingertips, hesitant.
— Do you think it's true?
— We're going to find out.
They sat side by side. Nahia opened the envelope. And read.
---
Letter from Giulietta Ferrano
> My dearest girls, Nahia and Amaya,
I don't know where to begin. There's so much I need to say…
I am Giulietta, your mother's sister. She and I haven't seen each other in twenty-nine years.
I made choices. Bad ones. I let pride smother blood. I was young. Too proud. Too angry.
I never met your father. I wasn't there when your mother fell. And I didn't come when she died.
For that, I do not ask forgiveness. I don't deserve it—not yet.
But today, I write to you because it's never too late to hope.
I learned of her death during a trip. I searched. Followed the trails. And I found you.
You still have family.
If one day, you wish it, my door will be open. I live in Venice, in the north of Italy.
Not out of duty. But if you feel the desire.
With all the love I understood too late,
Giulietta
---
Nahia folded the letter slowly. Silence filled the room.
Amaya whispered, without lifting her eyes:
— Do you think… Mama would've wanted us to meet her?
Nahia took a deep breath.
— I don't know. But I… I need to understand. To know what's been kept from us.
Her voice trembled with contained pain. And with new resolve.
What Nahia didn't yet know was that this letter — a simple sheet crumpled by time — would shake their lives far more than they could have ever imagined…