Liyah's breath hitched in her throat. The sandy desert stretched for miles and miles, without end. She looked at the two in front of her with an exasperated expression etched on her face, "Tell me this gets easier."
Rayan smirked, "Careful, habibti...
Please read with no judgement. I haven't written in over a year tbh and Rayan and I lowkey have been going through the same problem lmao. Heartbreak is really not my greatest motivation at all, so proceed with caution. Also I passed 2nd year of med school so I'm really pleased ngl.
And thanks for 16k views! Love you!!
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Chapter 23 | The Unspoken Truth
you will not find a strong person without a painful past. no one reaches the stage of rationality without destroying something in them
nafeesawrites
RAYAN WIPED THE SWEAT DRIPPING DOWN HIS FOREHEAD before he tightened his grip around the camel ropes. The boy stood with a long, brooding expression etched onto his face as he awaited the presence of the women that drove him to the brink of all insanity.
The blazing heat of the Almasahri sun stung his caramel-brown skin as he stepped out of the camel enclosures. He adjusted the ropes on the beastly-sized creature and gave Al Mataya a soft pat on his body. The camel let out a lengthy, low-pitched grunt as Rayan led him towards the huddle of female tents in the distance. He gently tugged on the ropes, "Yallah, habibi."
Al Mataya let out another low grunt in response.
Rayan laughed bitterly as he stepped in unison with the desert creature. They had been residing with the tribe for merely a few days, yet it had almost seemed as if this 'pit-stop', as Liyah called it, was a heart-shattering, hell-bounding eternity for the young man. The tribe reeked of the spicy, pungent aroma of arak, smoke and heartache. The festivities of the night had simmered down and all that remained stained into the sand grains was the heartbreak of a once youthful, twelve year old boy, who thought that his hayati, his amira, his Farrah would fill the cracks of his frozen heart with her sultry, honey-gold grins.
The boy kicked the caramel grains with each step he took. He watched as the grains shot into the air and settled onto his leather-clad footwear and Al Mataya's hooves. The camel let out grunt; Rayan let out a grunt of his own. The events of the previous night circled around his head like a honey bee dancing around an Almasahri desert rose. From Farrah to Liyah to his mother to Liyah to Farrah to his mother and back. His mind was spinning. He was spinning.
Rayan scoffed, "It's a horrible world we live in, isn't it, Al Mataya?"
Al Mataya grunted in agreement.
There was an oddly familiar tug in Rayan's chest. It was as if his heart had twisted around itself, shot up into his throat and fell straight to his gut. His heart fought violently to beat against the twisting and the tugging and the falling, but the boy could not help but feel the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat, "Everyone in this wretched kingdom expects Rayan al-Jawfi to be this magnificent, composed solider of war. Everyone expects me to keep up this... this act of an emotionless warrior that thrives off tactic and blood shed. Now do not twist my words, Al Mataya, I am eternally grateful to Umi and Baba for taking me in as child and I'll fight in Baba's armor for as long as there is air in my lungs and blood in my veins, but..."
