chapter -1

"Stop that thief; she robbed me," a man said, running behind a girl.

She pushed her legs hard against the muddy surface. Thundering footsteps trailing behind her were getting closer.

Her long hair danced on her hip. She was running like she would die if she stopped.

She looked behind her to see if the man was still chasing her, but to her horror, she saw a thick stick in his hand. He looked like a maniac following her.

"Stop, you little scoundrel."

She became even more scared and ran even faster. She was already out of breath, and it was so tough to run in a long skirt.

Suddenly, she saw a big man coming in front of her. Not able to stop, she found herself crashing into him.

She winced in pain.

"Aah"

He was like a big wall. a hard wall. His face was covered with a scarf. So she couldn't see his face.

"Huff, thank God you caught her.

"She robbed me in Bazar," the grey man said, huffing like a pig.

Oman looked at the girl and then at her hands. She was holding a piece of bread and clutching it to her chest.

She was thin-much tinier and more fragile. Her hazel eyes were unusually clear and steady. The long, curling eyelashes shaded her eyes. She was wrapped in a shabby old cloak. Her face was covered with dust, her skirt was torn, and her hair was dirty. She was the epitome of beauty, if the dirt on her face could be removed.

Her feet, despite the hot sand, were bare. She looked like a girl in her early teen years.

"Give that girl to me." "I'll make her pay," the man with the stick said, extending his other hand to grab her wrist.

Before he could do that, Oman grabbed his wrist and clutched it in a tight grip. He had a way of looking at a person with his dark eyes. so focused and intent that it can make any man bend his knee.

"What has she stolen?" Oman asked the old man coldly.

The old man paused for a moment, taken aback. Oman clutched his wrist even harder, making him wince.

"Aww, she stole my bread, then ran away," he said while trying to free his wrist from Oman's grasp.

Oman left him with a jerk. He grabbed some gold coins from his purse and threw them on the ground. The man looked at the ground in disbelief as he lowered himself to pick up the coins. Those coins were more than he needed.

He laughed evilly, showing his dirty teeth.

"Waah, Allah will give you double, my son," he said while laughing, and he walked away swaying his hand full of gold coins.

Her blazing eyes surveyed him. There was something about him; an aura of authority, a touch me not glaze—which dazzled and at the same time made her want her to reach out, just to see if he was real. He both compelled and intimidated.

He glanced one last time at her before walking away, leaving her standing in the same spot. Carefully, she watched him strode away and then followed his footsteps.

After crossing five shops, he noticed the same little girl from before following him. He took long strides so that she wouldn't follow him. He was astonished to learn she kept chasing him. It was a funny sight to see her running with her small legs.

He walked past many shops; now houses started to appear. He knew the long-haired girl was still following him. He entered a narrow street. Not a single soul was seen on the path. Street walls were so high and hard to climb.

Her footfall was the only thing that he could hear on this silent, narrow street.

He stood in front of a small iron gate. His height was larger than the door frame. He had to bow down to enter the house.

She wanted to follow behind him, so she mimicked him but found herself a little scared. She stood in front of the gate. Hesitantly, she slowly pushed the gate ajar.

She noticed a house, so she entered. The house was spacious, and rooms stood adjacently. She assessed everything around her, then her eyes landed on a woman in her late 20s who appeared in front of her.

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