Zahir's hands shuffled the cards, his eyes tentatively glancing off the edge of the cloth-covered table. He was thinking—no, he was overthinking.

With a shake of his head, he set the deck down, fingers brushing through his hair.

"That dream..."he exhaled, closing his eyes.

It wasn’t just a simple dream he could forget. No, it was something far more persistent, replaying in his mind like a prophecy yet to be understood.

Outside his small shop, the sounds of the city carried on—footsteps shuffling, horses' hooves lightly hitting the sandy ground as carts passed by. But no one came inside.

"Business is slow,"he chuckled to himself.

Not that money was his main concern. Fortune-telling was more than a trade—it was a way to help people, to ease their doubts, even if just a little.

With a sigh, he stood and removed his cloak. The summer heat was setting in, making it unbearable to stay cooped up inside his sand-covered shop.

As he stepped out, crossing his arms, a few eyes turned his way. Across from him, an elderly shopkeeper waved, his smile warm and full of kindness.

Zahir returned the gesture.

"Salam."

His own smile grew trying to say the greeting even with his tongue not used to the language. At least someone in this forsaken place showed him kindness—even though he was an outcast.

But before he could take another step, someone crashed into his chest.

A small figure—quick, light—stumbled against him. His hands instinctively caught their shoulders, steadying them before immediately letting go out of respect.

His gaze flickered to their covered face, only their eyes visible beneath the veil.

And for a moment, his breath hitched.

He knew those eyes.

The same ones from his dreams. The same ones belonging to that angel he had seen in his visions.

"H... Salam, ma'am—are you okay?"

He leaned slightly, trying to catch a clearer glimpse. He knew that many women here wore such coverings—some for their beliefs, others for their safety. Beauty in this place often invited danger.

Realizing this, he stepped back, giving her space to pass.

"Sorry... I seem to have blocked your way. Um—"he hesitated, then offered a small smile."I am a fortune teller. If you ever have doubts of any kind... I'd be happy to help you."

His hands clasped behind him, his posture open but expectant.

A small, unshakable feeling took root inside him—reassurance.

Maybe she would say yes.

Maybe he would finally understand why she felt so familiar.

But then again... maybe fate had other plans.