Irman lay still, limp as a corpse on the worn-out floor mat.
His lips were dry. Dried blood marked his mouth and the side of his face, and bruises painted his young skin like curses from the gods.
Heaven sat beside him, clutching a damp cloth, gently wiping the grime from his arms. Her hands were shaking. Her breath too.
Their father sat at his son's feet, eyes wide and red. "Irman… Irman, I'm sorry," he whispered again and again. "I didn't know it would go this far. I didn't think— I didn't mean—"
But Irman didn't respond. He was unconscious. Silent. And so were his bruises.
That's when their mother snapped.
She rose from the corner like a storm rising from the desert. Her voice cracked the room in two.
"You never think!" she screamed. "You gamble away our money, our food, our peace! Every night you vanish into the streets like a snake, and every morning we wake up with less than we had the day before!"
She pointed a trembling finger at Irman. "This is your doing. This boy—our son—bled for this family while you were drunk under a roof that isn't even ours!"
He shook his head, covering his ears. "I know… I know… I'm sorry…"
But sorry wasn't enough.
He began to sob—loud, sloppy sobs that didn't fix anything. That never fixed anything.
Heaven stared at him in disgust, then quietly rose to her feet.
"I'll get water," she said coldly.
Outside, the air was cooler than the heat within. The sun was at its peak, heat was radiating to its hottest but the people in Dune were used to it, but not the pain that cause those same people living in Dune
Heaven sigh as she walked towards the two bucket of water, still sat where Malachi had placed them — quiet, forgotten.
She stared at them for a long moment.
And he came to her mind, the tall beautiful but rude stranger
Him.
That man. The stranger.
"Not every man who helps you means he's interested."
Her jaw tightened at the memory of his voice. That tone.
Rude, she thought. Bold. Who said things like that?
And yet… he had helped. More than most ever did. More than her father ever had.
She carried half a bucket back inside, her muscles aching, and placed it beside her brother. Then she turned to her parents and whispered:
"Please fight outside. Irman needs peace."
They said nothing — only nodded in silence and stepped outside. Even their fury had grown tired.
Alone again, Heaven knelt by Irman and began to wash the blood from his arms, then his face. Her fingers were gentle, but her tears were not. They fell freely, mixing with the water as she whispered, "You're safe now… I promise."
And though her voice was steady, her heart felt splintered.
The sun had long disappeared when Irman stirred.
Heaven gasped.
His eyes fluttered open , swollen, unfocused — and yet, when they found her, they softened and a smile curved to his swollen lips
"I told you… I'd be fine," he rasped, a weak smile tugging at his split lip.
She laughed. Truly laughed. The first time in what felt like years.
She called out, "Mama! Baba!" and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her little brother. Her light.
Their parents came rushing in. Their mother dropped to her knees, sobbing. Even their father trembled as he knelt, touching his son's shoulder as if afraid he would shatter.
That night, for the first time in a long time, they were a family.
There was no feast. No candles. But they sat close on the floor, talking in low voices, touching Irman gently, smiling through tears.
And for a few brief hours, peace came to their home — delicate as a butterfly in the wind.
But the desert is no place for fragile things.
….
The next morning, Heaven as always swept the yard with slow strokes, the old broom dragging dust and memories across the stones. The smell of the earth was sweet after a cool night, and though her heart was still wary… she felt lighter.
Irman was healing.
Her father, for once, had not left before sunrise. He still slept. And her mother hummed softly as she cleaned inside.
She was happy, after a long time. They were happy
Heaven grabbed her basket and left for the market.
The streets were already buzzing. Vendors shouted about fresh olives and warm flatbread. The scent of roasted dates wafted from open ovens.
She walked toward the bakery — craving warmth, craving normal.
Then came the voice she had grown to recognize like her own breath.
"Heaven!"
Rasha.
Bounding toward her, cheeks flushed and grin wide. "I've been waiting for you like forever, I couldn't sleep! Tell me everything and Donot tell me you turned him down, so….what did that tall, dark mysterious Malachi say to you yesterday?"
Heaven rolled her eyes with a smile. "Nothing worth repeating."
"Oh come on. You two walked alone for fifteen whole minutes! That's like ten years in marriage time!"
Heaven sighed. "He was… strange. Kind. But distant."
Rasha raised a brow. "And?"
"He said…" Heaven hesitated, cheeks coloring. "He said not every man who helps me is interested."
Rasha stopped in her tracks. "Wait. What?"
Heaven nodded.
"You mean… he's not interested in you? You?"
She looked truly shocked. "That's not even possible. You're like a walking daydream."
Heaven chuckled nervously. "I think he just said that to humble me... I ….. I was being quite rude to him yesterday."
"What did you do, tell me everything?!"
"Well, as we walked, people were staring so he said people were thinking that we were like a married couple"
"What?!!" Rasha exclaimed, happy and excited " oh he's onto something"
" see?!!! That's what I thought too"
" So what did you tell him? Tell me you flirted with him"
" I didn't, I just told him that they didn't hear about my wedding so I doubt it that's what they thought of me and him"
" Good lord, you're as hopeless as the rain rituals done by the shamans to bring rain on this dry desert, a walking temptation who doesn't know how to use her charms" Rasha exclaimed to her friend.
Heaven sigh at her friend's silliness before she continued " I then said something which I think annoyed him"
"And that is?"
" he asked me why I refused to get married and I told me because all men were like my father and blain, and that he approached me with a motive"
"Good lord dont say it…"
"That's when he told me not all men approach me cos they are interested in me"
Rasha stared at her and raised her hands in the sky " I give up on you, at this rate, you'll lay alone in this scorching heat in the afternoons and mornings and the blazing cold in the cold nights"
That made Heaven pause.
She didn't know what to say to that.
She did want someone to spend the rest of her life with, she didn't want to lay alone forever, she was just afraid aged meet a man like her father, careless and irresponsible, marriage was like picking up a ball in a dark alley, unsure of what you might find there, and this made her even more concerned, but then… the market grew quiet.
Whispers rose like wind.
And there he was.
At the far edge of the street, half in shadow and half bathed in sun — the tall figure in black. A wide X across his back. Hair dark as onyx, tied back in a loose knot. His broad frame drew attention like gravity. The robe he wore shimmered slightly in the light — foreign, elegant, a turban on his head with a black mask.
Malachi.
Rasha grinned like a devil. "Well well… speak of the desert ghost."
Heaven's breath caught.
Because no matter what he had said the day before…
He had returned.
" well I thought he'd be gone by now, guess he had a reason to stay behind in Dune"
She said as she playfully slapped heaven's shoulder, let's go say hi.
Good lord