“But you’ll be safe here.” She sat down on the old mat inside, holding back her tears. This was her life now. A blind girl married to a beggar in a mud hut of hope.
But something strange happened that first night.
Yusha delicately prepared tea. He gave her his own coat and slept by the door, like a guard dog protecting its queen.
He spoke to her as if he truly cared: he asked her what stories she liked, what dreams she had, what foods made her smile. No one had ever asked her anything like that before.
The days turned into weeks.
Yusha accompanied her to the river every morning, describing the sun, the birds, and the trees with such poetry that Zainab began to feel she could see them through his words.
He sang to her while she washed clothes and told her stories of stars and faraway lands at night. She laughed for the first time in years.
Her heart began to open. And in that strange hut, something unexpected happened: Zainab fell in love.
One afternoon, as she approached him, she asked, “Were you always a beggar?” He hesitated. Then he said softly, “I wasn’t always like this.” But he said nothing more. And Zainab didn’t press the issue.
Until one day.
She went to the market alone to buy vegetables. Yusha had given her precise instructions, and she memorized every step. But halfway there, someone grabbed her arm roughly.
“Blind rat!” a voice spat. It was her sister, Aminah. “Are you still alive? Are you still playing the beggar’s wife?” Zainab felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she stood her ground.
“I’m happy,” she said.
Aminah laughed cruelly. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He’s trash. Just like you.”
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