The sky over Venice grew heavy with shades of pink, as if twilight itself were mourning something. Since their arrival four days earlier, the days had slipped by slowly in their Aunt Giulietta's house, lulled by the quiet song of the canals. Yet Amaya felt that something was wrong. Something in Nahia had changed.
Since they had set down their suitcases, her sister seemed… elsewhere.
That evening, while dinner cooled in the kitchen, Nahia remained frozen by the window, her gaze lost on the dark water of the canal.
Amaya, leaning against the doorframe, had been watching her in silence for a while.
"You don't talk anymore, you barely eat, you don't sleep… You're not here, Nahia. You've left your heart somewhere else."
A silence.
"Tell me who you're thinking of," she murmured, soft but determined. "Please…"
"Forget it," Nahia replied, still facing the glass.
Amaya approached gently, placed a hand on her sister's shoulder.
"I thought you were thinking about Yasmina. You were close. But it's not her, is it?"
Nahia closed her eyes, her chin trembling.
"You're clinging to something that hurts you… Tell me. Who is it?"
A breath. A crack.
And then, the truth. Simple. Bare.
"Assad."
Amaya stepped back, stunned.
"The sheikh? You… you're in love with him?"
Nahia nodded slowly.
"Three days before we left… I went back to the village to say goodbye to Uncle Ahmed. And once I was there, I felt I couldn't leave without seeing the oasis again. So I went. Then I headed to the tent. Do you remember? The one where we had found refuge after being chased away…"
Amaya nodded, her heart tightening.
"But it wasn't the same anymore. It had been renovated… stronger, more beautiful… almost like a silent promise. When I entered, it was empty, but I felt it wasn't abandoned. There was this warmth… this invisible presence.
"And then he came back. Assad. He had just gone out for air. He wasn't expecting to see me. But when our eyes met… it was over. There was no turning back."
A shiver ran through her.
"We didn't say anything. We just let ourselves be carried away. For two days, two nights… we loved each other as if the world no longer existed. He held me as if I were the only real thing. And I… I surrendered to him. It was beautiful. It was intense."
She lowered her eyes.
"And now, it's only a memory. But it burns every time I think of him. I think I love him, Amaya. With all my heart. And it hurts me like never before."
Silence fell over the room, thick and heavy with unshed tears.
Amaya looked at her, shaken, as if discovering a Nahia she had never known.
"You… you love him," she repeated in a whisper.
Nahia nodded, unable to speak further.
Amaya sat beside her, took her hand, and squeezed it tenderly.
"I don't recognize you, Nahia. You, the most reasonable of us two… You gave yourself away like that, without a promise, without a tomorrow?"
Nahia turned her eyes away, ashamed. But Amaya tightened her grip on her fingers. Her voice softened.
"And yet, I understand. Because you've always kept everything inside. So knowing that you experienced this, even just for two days… in a way, I'm relieved. Relieved that you knew love, at least once. Even if it's complicated. Even if it hurts."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"But tell me… why didn't you say anything? Why carry this alone? Were you afraid? Or did you still hope for something from him?"
"I was afraid… that it was only a dream. And now that he's going to marry another… I know it was more than that. That what we lived was real. And it kills me to admit it."
Amaya held her tightly, as if to keep her heart from shattering further.
"I hope that one day, wherever he is, he realizes what he lost. And I hope above all that, wherever you are, you'll always know how loved you are. Even if not by him…"
She paused, then added with a trembling, almost prophetic voice:
"I hope you and Assad will find each other again. And that, when that day comes, he'll be strong enough to love you as you deserve. Without barriers. Without delay. For good."
The silence that followed was soft. Almost sacred.
The lapping of the canal water below lulled their sorrow.
Then Amaya stretched out on the bed, her gaze lost on the ceiling.
"By the way… did you check if there's a fashion school in Venice?" Nahia asked, her voice steadier.
"I haven't yet. Aunt Giulietta said she'd help me enroll somewhere, but… I think she has a problem with the shop. She's been worried for two days. When she comes home tonight, I'll ask her."
Amaya sat up, curious.
"And you? Do you have an idea of what you want to do here? A dream, a project… something?"
Nahia lowered her eyes, thoughtful.
"I don't know yet. I need time. I've never really thought about myself. About what I wanted. So… for now, I just want to breathe. To live a little. Maybe the answers will come."
Amaya smiled tenderly.
"You have the right to take your time. And who knows, maybe your real life begins here… between these canals and these silences. Maybe here, you'll finally learn to belong to yourself."
The door opened then, cutting off their thoughts. Aunt Giulietta entered, visibly exhausted from her day.
"Here I am," she sighed, setting her bag on the table.
Amaya and Nahia rose together.
"Aunt Giulietta, how's the shop?" Amaya asked.
"It's complicated. One of my salesgirls just gave birth, she can't come back. And the second called me this morning: her mother is gravely ill. She's leaving for Bergamo. I'm left alone to manage everything."
"Bergamo?" Nahia repeated.
"A city in the north. She doesn't know when she'll return."
"And what exactly do you sell?" Amaya asked, intrigued.
"Handmade Venetian masks, silk scarves, Murano glass jewelry, decorated fans, notebooks of artisan paper… and a few local floral perfumes."
"That sounds wonderful," Nahia murmured.
"It's a lot of work. I wanted to close tomorrow to look for a school for you, Amaya, but… I don't know how to manage."
Nahia gently laid her hand over her aunt's.
"If you want… I can take care of the shop for a few days. I don't have anything urgent to do."
Giulietta looked at her, touched.
"That's very kind, Nahia. I'll think about it."
Amaya smiled.
"We'll manage. Together."
Giulietta smiled faintly, her eyes shining with fatigue, but also hope. Amaya, at her side, gently squeezed her sister's hand. And Nahia, for the first time in days, felt a new breath move through her chest. Light. Liberating.
The past still burned her skin… but in this old Venetian house, in the heart of a city of golden reflections and silence, she glimpsed a future. Blurred, fragile, uncertain. But possible.
Maybe here, she would learn to piece herself back together.
Maybe here, she would learn to live again.
To dream.
She lifted her eyes to the window. The Venetian sky, at that hour, was a mirror of soft flames and suspended hope.
And in the silence, an inner whisper:
One day, maybe… I too will love again.