As the sun bathed the vibrant streets of Egypt's bustling capital in a golden hue, the open-air markets came alive with the symphony of commerce and culture. Merchants and farmers had set up stalls to showcase their goods for the masses who favored attending the open-air markets. The rich scents of cinnamon, cumin, and saffron mingled with the earthy aroma of fresh produce, while the vibrant colors of silks and parchment merchandise cast a lively appearance on the streets, brightening almost any spirit.

Among the throngs of merchants and patrons, Parsa, a traveling Persian merchant, navigated the labyrinthine pathways of spices and silks with a keen eye for opportunity. His fingers brushed lightly against bolts of purple silk at one stall as he compared their quality to those back in Persia, disappointment flickering across his features when he determined they wouldn't meet his standards.

"Not the right shade," he murmured to himself before stepping away, his attention already shifting to the next stall. Lost in the kaleidoscope of scents and sounds—the shouts of vendors, the clatter of pottery, the murmur of haggling customers—Parsa's concentration faltered just as he turned a corner, colliding abruptly with someone moving in the opposite direction.

"Shit.. My apologies sir. I wasn't looking where I was going, you see," Parsa apologized, automatically extending a hand to help the man he'd knocked off balance. Their fingers touched briefly as Parsa steadied him, and the stranger's hood fell back in the motion, revealing features that made Parsa's breath catch in his throat.