The man was Gorgeous
Jaw carved like a blade, skin the color of rich soil, lips full and cruelly shaped, and a face sculpted with such symmetry she was unsure he was real.
When he finished, he replaced his mask and turned back to them.
"Thank you," Heaven said softly.
"Grateful," Rasha added, still staring, but disappointed that the master proposed hidden away, but just the eyes were enough to make her wavered.
The man nodded as if saying good bye to them. The man was good loooking, Rasha didn't want their time to end so soon, so she came up with a strategy, as if she never in her lifetime carried 2 buckets of water, she groaned loudly as she lifted her bucket. "Aiiigh… this is heavier than a camel's behind!"
Heaven stared at Rash in utter shock, she knew her best friend was shameless when it came to handsome beautiful men, but this… this was too much. Acting like she never in her life carried go buckets of water, yes they were heavy, but they alway carried them home, now... she shook her head,
But The man paused, turned and looked at both of them then stepped forward.
Without asking, he took two buckets — one from each of them, making Rasha excited.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
Heaven gave a small nod toward the east. "Duneshara's edge."
"I'll walk with you."
" Thank you my good man" Rasha said and heaven almost slapped her for being so bold to a total stranger. Rasha on the other hand, had a plan in mind.
The man did as he said, he walked them home, to Duneshara.
Heaven was quiet the whole way, lost in thoughts of Irman, of home, of hopelessness.
But Rasha… Rasha talked.
"So where are you from? You're not from Duneshara, I know that. Your clothes — too fine. That bisht? Silk trim. And your accent? You hold your R's like mountain folk. I knew a guy from Kharbalah once. He had one eye, though. Bad breath. Are you married? Bet you're not. You don't wear a ring. Are you a soldier? A merchant? You carry yourself like someone who's killed before. Have you killed before?"
Heaven turned to her friend and slapped her Arm lightly, giving her a sign to stay quiet and be modest for once, but she giggled at her and told her it's fine.
The manor the other hand said nothing to her question, he only focused forward.
Rasha pouted. "You're one of those brooding silent types, aren't you? Mysterious. Do you have a name, or shall I call you Desert Ghost?"
He turned and stared at her, she was short, below his chest, so he had to look down to stare at her face, he sigh when he saw her glowing eyes, like a child being given a new date, straight from the tree itself "Malachi."
"Malachi," Rasha repeated, grinning, already getting excited . "A good name. Means a messenger, messenger between two worlds. But I doubt you're a real one."
Heaven said nothing, but a flicker passed through her mind. That name. Something about it trembled in her chest.
Rasha kept talking the entire way. "I bet you have a scar under that mask. Or maybe a secret. Are you running from something? From someone? A wife? No — you don't seem the type. Maybe you were exiled. I love exiles. There's always a story there."
Still, the man said little. But occasionally, his eyes would flick toward Heaven — unreadable, quiet, intense.
And though she didn't know it yet… The man most of the time stared at her as Rasha kept on chatting like a chatter box.
Well the woman was too beautiful to ignore. And even he seemed to think so.
…..
Soon, they arrived in Duneshara,
The stone gates of Duneshara loomed ahead, their sandstone walls casting wide shadows as the sun arched above them. The two women stepped forward first — Heaven, silent, her thoughts a churning sea of worry; and Rasha, glowing like a lantern beside her.
Behind them, the man in black and grey paused.
He stood still at the edge of the city, as if uncertain, or… staring .
Rasha turned when she noticed his absence. She tapped Heaven's arm. "He's staring," she whispered, barely able to contain her grin. "Do you think he's never been here before?"
Heaven glanced back. The man stood rigid, his eyes locked on the distant skyline — not with wonder, but something else. Something unreadable. Something ancient.
Rasha jogged back to him with all the grace of an overeager child.
"Come on, Malachi," she said sweetly. "You're not afraid of a city, are you?"
He blinked and turned toward her slowly. "No," he replied. "It's my first time here."
Rasha blinked, unsure what he meant, but not bold enough to question it further. She laughed it off and turned around, motioning him to follow.
Has he really never been here before?!
She asked herself in her mind
As they stepped into the streets of Duneshara together, the atmosphere shifted.
The market square was loud as usual — vendors calling, spices in the air, and children darting between stalls — but now, as Malachi walked through, a hush seemed to follow.
Eyes turned. Women whispered behind veils. Men gave him a wide berth. A few old merchants stared with furrowed brows, as though trying to recall a name they hadn't spoken in decades.
Even Heaven noticed it.
He was… too different. Too tall. Too well-dressed. Too still and something about him made him stand out, the aura he gave out,
And he did nothing to lessen that feeling.
Rasha, as always, paid no mind. "So tell me, Malachi… do you have a woman in your life?"
He didn't even hesitate. "No."
Rasha grinned like the moon itself had winked at her. "None? Not even a long-lost love? A girl waiting back in another kingdom, crying for your return?"
"No."
She pressed her hand dramatically to her chest. "What a shame. But… maybe you won't be alone forever."
Heaven exhaled sharply. "Rasha, please—"
But Rasha only laughed and pressed on. "And what do you think of my friend here? Her name's Heaven. Beautiful, isn't she? Quiet, strong, responsible , the kind of woman men write poetry about, though no one's had the honor yet. She's not betrothed either, and not because she's a nuisance, she's amazing, she just turns down every proposal out there, maybe she's waiting for someone, someone like you ."
Heaven froze.
Her dark eyes flashed toward Rasha, full of disbelief. She's trying to make him fall for me, she realized, horrified. She's actually…
Malachi's gaze turned to her, unreadable behind the veil. His eyes lingered.
And yet he said nothing.
Rasha beamed, triumphant. "My house is right around the corner," she said cheerfully, "I can carry mine from here"
She didn't even wait for a reply , just took her bucket, gave Heaven a knowing wink, and skipped off, leaving the two alone.
The air between Heaven and Malachi grew heavy.
He took her buckets without question and began to walk. Side by side now, with only the sound of sandals and whispers in their wake, they made their way through the city.
People stared.
Veiled women leaned into each other, murmuring behind their hands. Market boys nudged one another. An old man at a stall narrowed his eyes as the stranger passed by, as if trying to remember a face seen in a dream.
To them, they looked like husband and wife. A man carrying water for his veiled beloved, her walking close beside him in the scorching sun. No one had heard of Heaven's engagement, but now they wondered.
The image was too natural. Too intimate. Too quiet.
But Heaven said nothing.
But he didn't, for once, he started the talking
" They seem to be thinking we're husband and wife "
Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the tall figure waking beside her, but she answered carefully " they've never heard of my marriage, I doubt it"
It was quiet again, they walked a few feet and he asked again
" why do you turn down marriage proposal?"
"Cos am not ready for marriage"
"Why?" He asked without hesitation.
She started to think he was like other men, he thought he would be different, he approached them for help, but maybe he had other plans….. like blains plans with her.
" because all men are irresponsible, reckless and think of themselves first before anyone else"
" that's not true, am a man ain't I? I am not irresponsible for I helped you and your friend, reckless yes cos I've entered a kingdom for the first time without knowing anything about it and If I thought of myself first before anyone else, I wouldn't have helped you and your friend carrying these buckets nor helped you at the well"
"Well maybe you got other plans and motives"
" Not every man that comes and offers his help to you means he's interested in you"
In some way, heaven felt attacked and offended even though a few minutes ago, that was exactly what he thought about him, that he came with a motive, now him telling her he wasn't interested in her, made her feel offended in some way, and after that, Jon said a word again.
They reached her home at the far edge of the city ,the broken clay door, the collapsed frame of what once was a garden. The silence of it hit her like a wave.
Then came the sound of boots. Guards.
Three of them. With dust on their uniforms and sweat glistening on their foreheads.
They were dragging something behind them.
No , someone.
They dropped Irman at the doorstep like a dead goat, blood dried on his arms, sand clinging to his back, his face bruised and swollen.
"Payment for his life," one of them said coldly. "This time, we let him live."
They turned and walked away, laughing to themselves.
Heaven screamed.
"IRMAN!" she fell to her knees, pulling his broken body into her arms. "Mama! MAMA!"
Her mother came rushing out with her veil undone, eyes wide in horror. Her father followed — disheveled, half-sober — and when he saw his son, he stumbled forward and lifted him up.
Together, they carried Irman inside.
Only Malachi remained at the gate, the buckets still at his side.
He stood there, silent.
Then slowly, he stepped inside the yard and placed the buckets down.
Heaven returned, her hands trembling, eyes puffy with tears. "Thank you…" she whispered, not even knowing if she was speaking to him, or to God.
And then, without a word, the stranger turned and walked away.
The buckets sat like offerings at the foot of a home full of sorrow.
And Heaven watched him disappear — her soul caught in the dust left behind him.