One day you will ask me which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine
And you will walk away
Not knowing that you are my life.

— Khalil Gibran

The mountains shade a mystical blue as the sun slides behind them, its rays casting a pink hue over some clouds while the others shade a faint orange. The lake reflects the picturesque view like a magnificent painting, glorifying the nature. It looks like an art.

Leyla rubs her hands together to warm them. Winter has set in and the cold is harsh and biting. She stays standing on the broadwalk, watching the light slowly diminish as the sky darkens. Another day has gone by without him.

Her gaze collides with the mountaintops and returns to her but her thoughts keep circling around him. Only if Burq wasn't an addiction she is trying to get rid of. Only if his pride wouldn't keep shattering her honor.

But what is the meaning of returning to him every time when he doesn't need her but to nullify his loneliness? Is it really only her freedom she's after that only he can give her? She hopes it's nothing more.

"Leyla?"

She turns around to find Gulalai standing at the other end of the broadwalk.

"You're coming home?"

"I need a few more minutes of solitude," Leyla responds.

Gulalai looks up at the clouds and then back to her. "Don't stay out long. The weather is fickle."

Leyla only nods and smiles.

Gulalai tugs at the sleeves of her sweater and tucks her hands under her arms, walking towards her. She comes to stand beside her.

"It's been three days you haven't seen him," she reminds Leyla.

"I've lived twenty five years of my life without him. I've functioned just fine before him."

"Before him, you didn't know him, neither were you wedded to him."

Leyla gives her another smile, this time half and sardonic. "After him, I managed to live alright too. Be that only a month without him, but if his accident hadn't happened I wouldn't have returned to him."

Gulalai reaches out to squeeze her arm. "I know, darling. I know no one dies without another, but one does suffer without another." She mirrors her smile. "And you're suffering, Brekhna. And I'm sure he's suffering too. Don't let his pride take away the kindness of your heart. Be there for him when he needs you."

Leyla threads her fingers and look down at them. "He keeps hurting me, Gul."

"That's why I'm not fond of him." Gulalai shrugs. "But I don't want you to change your ways because of him."

Leyla meets her eyes. "Spogmay isn't thrilled about my ways."

"That's right."

"Then why are you?"

Gulalai chuckles but Leyla hears it only as a broken melody— remorseful and aching. "Didn't I tell you before already? Because you remind me so much of your late brother. He had the same golden heart as yours."

Leyla swallows, unable to comment further. Gulalai stares away into the void and shakes her head.

"I remember making a promise to him," she mumbles.

"What promise?" Leyla inquiries.

"He asked me if I ever had to choose between him and my happiness, I must choose the latter." Gulalai toys with her wedding band. "I told him he was my happiness and he said if someday he can no more give me that, I should let him go." She looks back to Leyla. "I haven't broken my promise to him though. His memories still give me happiness, so I refuse to let go."

"Gul," Leyla takes her hands in her own, "I wish for a lot of things, but I wish for Lawangeen's presence the most."

"I'm sure my husband is happy in heaven. I wonder if he misses me."

"He must."

Gulalai bites her lip. "He taught me how to love when I didn't find any of it between my parents and had no faith in it. Brekhna?"

"Yes?"

She looks into Leyla's eyes meaningfully. "Spogmay will be home in a few days. Neither her nor I are fond of your husband. But if anyone can soften his twisted heart, it's you."

"I'm not sure."

"Were it not the case, God would never have arranged your meeting."

"I'm to take divorce from him, Gul," Leyla reminds her, sighing. "What am I to do? Teach him to love and then leave him?"

"No." Gulalai shakes her head. "Teach him to love God so he can truly live."

Leyla stays silent, taking in her words.

"If you decide to go to him, let me know." Gulalai takes a step back from her. "I shall get going now."

Leyla watches her retreating form until she's only a small figure slowly disappearing. She closes her eyes, exhaling puffs of mist as she breathes. Looking out at the lake one last time, she leaves too.

"Your ladyship?" Waleed utters with surprise when he finds Leyla standing at the threshold of his master's house. "I did not expect your arrival. Marhaba." He steps aside to let her inside.

Leyla thanks him and enters the house. "I'm sorry to come unannounced."

"Oh no, my lady. You can come anytime. I'm sure his lordship will be glad to have you."

Leyla highly doubts it, but doesn't comment. She unbuttons her coat as her eyes scan the living room. "Where is Burq?"

"In his bedroom, my lady."

"Did he have dinner?"

"No, he refused to have the soup I brought him."

"He dislikes soups, Waleed." Leyla turns to him. "Is there nothing else he can eat?"

"He has been sick since last night. He refuses anything I try to feed him."

Leyla frowns. "What happened?"

"Flu and fever, my lady."

Her heart clenches. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"His lordship did not wish so."

Leyla purses her lips as she works her jaw. Burq is like an untamable, delirious horse. She huffs in her mind.

"I'm going to his bedroom. Bring him his dinner," Leyla informs Waleed and he nods before disappearing towards the kitchen.

She makes her way towards Burq's room, pinching the bridge of her nose before knocking on the door and slowly pushing it open, not waiting for his permission to grant her entrance.

The chill in the room seeps through her skin and freezes even her bones. Her gaze instantly snaps to the window on the wall and finds it ajar. The room is only lit by a bedside lamp and she notices Burq lying in the center of his vast bed, hopefully warm under the covers against the cold in the air.

His eyes are closed but she doesn't know if he's really asleep or not. The dim light slipping over the angles of his face conceals it rather than revealing anything. Leyla stares at him. She has seen too much of him in too little time, yet she never learnt to know him enough. She had once thought of him to be a good man.

The thunder roars loudly outside and sends vibrations through her body. She looks back to the open window and decides to close it. If he's really asleep, she doesn't want the sound to wake him up. Leyla walks towards it, careful with her steps not to make any noise.

"Don't," his voice stops her midway, icy and commanding.

She halts, turning towards him only to find him awake and watching her. She lifts chin and parallels his gaze.

The thunder booms again, this time angrier, preceded by the lightning outside, interrupting their moment. Burq tears away his eyes.

"You can't sleep with this," Leyla points out.

"I can't sleep in dead silence," he replies instead, glancing at her before tilting his face to the other side, causing the lamplight to skim his side profile handsomely.

Leyla doesn't allow herself to be mesmerized by his strong masculine features— the angle of his jaw ticking or his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, or how the lines form between his eyebrows as they twitch. All of them only show his displeasure and discomfort.

She steps towards his bed and he has to meet her orbs again on finding her standing closer. She traces her outline in his dilated pupils.

"You should've told me you're sick," she says.

"You know my reasons," he replies dismissively. "Besides, you stopped coming over. So what right did I have to call you to tend me while I lie here?"

"I thought I already made it clear that I don't mind this."

"This doesn't make you obliged to me."

"So you don't require my company?"

He remains silent and Leyla finds her answer. He's a human too, after all. She settles beside him on his bed and he continues battling her gaze.

"I don't like being like this," Burq speaks, sounding both sad and frustrated. "Neither to you, nor to Waleed. I've never been dependent upon anyone in my life. I despise this vulnerability so much."

"You're not a liability to me, Burq." Leyla places her hand over his. "When I see you, I see a man like any other, deserving to be taken care of in his time of need. This doesn't belittle you, but only makes you a human."

He gives her a half hearted and unconvinced smile, observing her quietly as seconds tick by. "Why are you doing this?" he asks finally. "I cannot imagine myself tending you in your times of need, so please don't go for that excuse."

Leyla laughs softly and finds the golden shade of his irises softening with it. "You had your own way, but you did it for me."

"I would love to know that story."

"I'll tell you in time, I promise."

"Why not now?"

"You won't like it."

"This bad?"

She chuckles. "For Burq Al Aziz? Yes."

His eyes have swirling questions in them with a curious spark. He arches an eyebrow. "What do you know of me?"

Leyla removes her hand from his, straightening. "You're heir of one of Qatar's most prestigious families, born and raised in riches," she begins calmly and without hesitation. "Your father is an honorable man and your mother is well respected and from a well known family too. You're a self built man and for that I admire you; the factory you own in Auckland is a success, and probably many other properties of yours too, are the result of your hard work. Although what I'm not fond of is your racism— your pride— in what God has given you."

She catches him squinting his eyes at her insolent description of him at the end. "This is boring," he scoffs. "You still know very little of me, Leyla."

"Indeed. Of your life, I know little. But I suppose I know enough of you as a person."

"Then tell me what you know of this person." He gestures towards himself, challengingly smirking at her.

Leyla hums, leaning forward on one hand while pushing back her hair over her shoulder with the other. It's a simple gesture but she notices Burq's gaze flicking to her fingers before fixing on her face again. She hides back a smile.

"When I met you for the first time, you introduced yourself to me as Burq, not Burq Al Aziz."

Burq tips his head, his features tinting with amusement and interest.

"You didn't laugh a lot, but you would smile with these otherworldly shades in your predatory eyes," Leyla continues and Burq's gaze intensifies on her. "Your eyes are captivating, you know? They're genuine even when your words aren't. Remember how I told you they give away your emotions? I meant it."

She swallows, shushing down. Burq reaches back for her hand and holds it. "Please continue," he urges.

She smiles, grazing his thumb with hers. "I know you love sunrises and wake up early everyday to watch them, especially from a beach because you love walking on the sand. You like lighter colors, but not really brighter; you find them happy colors." Her smile turns into a grin. "You also love orange flavored ice-creams, the smell of lemongrass, and almond milk and dates. You've a strange obsession with swords and horses, and reading poetry in bad weathers. You do calligraphy sometimes but are too embarrassed to show anyone your art, because you don't feel confident of it. You like your work in the factory as a petroleum engineer but you want to get a higher degree and pursue more." Leyla inches closer to him. "Do you want me to keep listing?"

Burq chuckles, sounding amazed, his eyes wide and gleaming. "Yes, but let me warn you first."

"Of what?"

"Only when one is invested in someone does one know such details of them." He tugs her wrist and she has to catch herself with her free hand not to lose her balance and fall over him. His smirk returns. "What do I gather of this interest of yours, habibi?"

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