The sun traced golden shadows on the fabric of the tent, casting soft glimmers of light onto bare skin. Outside, the world lived, moved, maybe even screamed... but here, in this sanctuary of cloth, time seemed suspended. Nothing else mattered.
Assad and Nahia had stayed there, wrapped in a bubble outside of time.
They hadn't exchanged grand words. They didn't need to. Everything was said through shared silences, deep gazes, the warmth of skin against skin.
Their day had slid by in a soft, almost unreal languor.
A breath in the hollow of a neck.
A caress offered over a sip of water.
A kiss placed between bites of bread.
Magnetized hands, meeting again and again.
Sighs, stifled laughter, and a heat that had nothing to do with the desert.
They hadn't gone out.
Not to eat.
Not to breathe.
They were enough for each other.
Assad had lost count of how many times he'd gotten lost in her. Each time was different. Deeper. She was becoming a need. A prayer. There was no past. No future.
Only her.
Her body against his. Her mouth. Her skin. Her half-closed eyes. The way she whispered his name like it was the only thing that existed.
And he, who had believed he could never truly live again… was living.
Burning.
Loving.
---
When the sun mellowed, and the air grew milder, they finally dressed. They left the tent on horseback, riding slowly, one behind the other, toward the oasis a few kilometers away.
The desert wrapped them in sacred silence. Not a word, just the wind in the dunes, the rhythmic sound of hooves, and that strange peace… the kind that comes before the inevitable.
By the time they arrived, the sun was fading. A golden light danced on the water's surface. The palm trees swayed gently. The place seemed made just for them.
Without a word, they undressed and entered the cool water. The contrast with their burning bodies made them laugh. They played. Caressed. Made love right there on the ground, the water rippling around them like a promise.
Then, calmed, they returned to the tent.
And again, they loved each other.
Slowly.
Without urgency.
As if to carve each other into their skin.
Assad looked at her like a man who had just touched a miracle.
He fell asleep in the heart of the night, breath short, his chest full of a happiness he couldn't quite understand.
---
Dawn broke slowly, discreetly, stretching pale light over the still-warm sand.
Inside the tent, Assad slept peacefully, his features relaxed. His breathing was steady, almost musical.
Nahia watched him in silence, a wave of emotion running through her chest. She had never thought she'd experience such a moment. A whole day outside the world. Complete immersion in his arms, his warmth, his love.
They had done nothing but love each other. Nothing but be themselves.
But now… it was time to go.
She dressed quietly, wrapped her veil around her face. She clutched her small bag, avoiding any noise, as if silence could stop something more painful from waking.
She knew she wouldn't be able to say goodbye. Not while looking him in the eyes.
Outside, the morning air was gentle. She mounted her horse, cast one last glance toward the tent.
I'm leaving… and he doesn't know yet.
I'm leaving… and I won't come back.
The steady rhythm of her horse's hooves matched her thoughts. She had no regrets. What they had lived would stay with her. Engraved. But a dull ache was settling in, discreet, hidden in a corner of her heart.
In two days, she would leave the country. For Italy. For another life.
What they had shared could only exist in that tent. In that parenthesis.
There would be no future. But a memory. And that memory would warm her for a long time.
---
At the edge of the village, the houses bathed in golden light. Nahia slowed in front of an old ochre house. She dismounted.
Before she could even knock, the door opened to reveal her uncle. His face betrayed worry.
— "You were gone a while," he murmured. "You said one night…"
Nahia lowered her eyes, a bit ashamed. But her voice remained calm:
— "I'm fine, uncle. Don't worry."
He looked at her for a long time, then stepped aside. She entered the living room. Rokaya, her aunt, sat frozen, her gaze distant.
— "Sit down," said her uncle.
— "No… I have to go back to the palace. We're leaving in two days."
She turned toward the door, but her uncle stopped her with a gesture.
— "Wait."
He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a yellowed photo in his hands. He handed it to her, silently.
She took it.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Her parents.
Young. In love. Happy.
Tears welled up. She couldn't hold them back.
— "How…?"
— "Your father sent it to me. Thirty years ago. He wrote to say he had found the love of his life. He wanted me to know.
"It's the only photo I have… but I know he would've wanted you and your sister to have it."
A sob escaped her. She threw herself into his arms.
— "Thank you, uncle. For everything you've done for us. For never leaving us."
They stayed embraced for a few moments.
Then Nahia pulled away. She tucked the photo away, rewrapped her veil, climbed back on her horse.
And without looking back, she rode on.
---
The sun was already high when Assad opened his eyes.
The gentle warmth filled the tent. He reached out.
Empty.
The sheet still carried her scent.
But she… she was gone.
He sat up, heart racing, mind foggy. Their night returned to him in waves.
He stepped out of the tent. The camp was silent.
Nahia's horse was gone.
A knot formed in his chest.
He went back inside. Searched for a note. A sign.
Nothing.
Maybe she had simply left before him. Maybe she hadn't known how to say goodbye.
He dressed in a rush, his heart still full of the images from the day before.
And despite the anxiety, he smiled.
He would find her.
He didn't know how or when.
But he knew it: he couldn't stay here.
Not without her.