chapter 2

"Who are you?" the woman asked, surprised to see a teen in her home.

"Oman, who is she?" Fatima shouted, but didn't receive any reply in return.

Frustrated. "Who are you, girl, and how did you get here?" she asked while taking some steps towards her.

"Out of here immediately," Fatima commanded, pointing toward the exit. The girl became scared looking at the horrifying woman. Fatima went near her in an attempt to move her back. But when she tried to touch her, she flinched away.

"She followed me," Fatima said, looking behind her to see Oman standing behind her. He was holding a plate full of food in his hand.

"What? "How can she follow you, and you let her come here?"

"She was hungry, so I didn't say anything," he replied bluntly.

"Are you out of your mind? If someone came to know, they would not give a single thaught before calling troops over here," she whispered at Oman.

Then Fatima looked at the bread in her hands, which the girl was clutching tightly to her chest.

"She already has bread."

"How could you say she is hungry?" Fatima asked; she was angry now. How could he be so careless?

Oman said nothing and walked past Fatima and stood in front of the hazel-eyed girl. He extended his hand to give her the plate of food.

She looked at Oman with doodling eyes and took the plate from him. Her stare was intense, void, and hollow inside. They held each other's gaze. Coming to his senses, he took a step back and gave her one last look before storming into his room.

Fatima followed behind him.

"Oman, listen. Don't ever do that again. You're already in danger. Don't look for any more trouble," Fatima said in a worried tone.

She cared for her elder brother very much, and looking at how he believed in people made her irritated sometimes.

"Don't worry, it won't happen again," he said, pulling out a dagger from beneath a mattress and checking its blade. It needed to be sharpened.

"Whatever, you won't listen to me anyway," she said, folding her arms near her chest like a little girl showing her anger.

!!****!!

Oman was sharpening the blade on the rock. It was a legendary dagger and he had used it in many wars along with his heavy sword. He was always brutal when it came to fighting. He spared no one and was undefeated in combat.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice Fatima sitting beside him.

"That girl, is she mute? Because when I questioned her about her family, she didn't utter a word. Neither did I hear a sound come out of her mouth." Fatima was deep in thought.

"Perhaps, but I don't think so," Oman said while checking his blade to see if it was sharp enough.

Fatima hummed. I wanted to give her some clothes. Her skirt was torn, and now I actually feel bad for shouting at her. Fatima has a soft side, even though she tries to become cold outside.

"Don't think too much, Fatima," he said, looking at her sad face.

"I don't want some dirty men to harass her."

"I wanted to give her something appropriate to wear, but she ran away."

"She ran away again?" he asked, but wasn't surprised.

"What do you mean again?" Fatima narrowed her eyes at Oman.

"I saw her many times in the streets. Whenever she saw me, she used to run after me. Today she chased me till our home," and he was amused.

"She doesn't have a family."

"I don't know Fatima," he said, taking a deep breath. It didn't seem she has someone to look after her.

"She was cute, though, and innocent too," Fatima remembered her facial features, like those of a princess. Her eyes were the most attractive; they caught Fatima's attention. Fatima wanted to help her anyway.

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