Days turned into weeks. Every morning, Yusha walked her to the river, describing the sun, the birds, the trees with such poetry that she began to feel as though she could see them through his words. He sang to her while washing clothes and told her stories about stars and distant lands at night.
She laughed for the first time in years. Her heart slowly began to open. And in that strange little hut, something unexpected happened — Zainab fell in love.
One afternoon, as she reached for his hand, she asked softly: “Were you always a beggar?” He hesitated. Then said quietly, “Not always.” But he said nothing more. And she didn’t press him.
Until one day. She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her careful instructions, and she memorized every step. But halfway there, someone grabbed her arm violently.
“Blind rat!” a voice spat. It was her sister. Aminah. “You’re still alive? Still playing wife to a beggar?” Zainab felt tears rise, but she stood tall. “I’m happy,” she said.
Aminah laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what he is. He’s worthless. Just like you.” Then she whispered something that shattered her. “He’s not a beggar, Zainab. You were lied to.”
Zainab stumbled back home, confused and shaken. She waited until nightfall, and when Yusha returned, she asked again — this time firmly. “Tell me the truth. Who are you really?”
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