Chapter 12

LEILA

I felt it before I saw him—Elias’s presence at the mouth of the alley, his silhouette backlit by the soft golden spill of light from the bakery window. The bakery was just locking up for the night, and as always, we waited until the last of the customers had gone, until Saeed had drawn the shutter halfway and Masoud had flipped the sign. Elias had stepped out a few minutes ahead of me.

This was becoming a routine. I joined Elias at the entrance to the alley, where the familiar hush of evening wrapped around us like a shawl. The streets were quieter now, the air still touched with the scent of bread and late spring dust. We began walking, our hands finding each other naturally, fingers intertwining like muscle memory.

Neither of us said much—it was enough just to be. The narrow alley had become ours over the past few weeks, our little world squeezed between old walls and cracked concrete. I treasured these walks more than I could explain. They gave us space. They gave us time. A moment to be us.

When we reached the usual place—just before the end of the alley, before it curved back toward the busier street—we slowed to a stop. I turned toward him and saw the look in his eyes, that quiet longing mixed with something gentler: peace.

He leaned in slowly. I did too.

Our kiss was soft, unhurried, impossibly sweet. When we parted, neither of us moved away. Instead, I stepped into his arms, rested my head against his chest, and let myself be held. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my ear, steady and sure. It was the safest place I’d ever known.

After a long moment, we kissed again—just a quick one this time, a lingering brush of lips—before stepping back.

“I should go,” I said, though I didn’t want to.

Elias nodded, but didn’t move. He lingered a step or two closer to the mouth of the alley than usual, like he was reluctant to let me go just yet. I gave his hand one last squeeze and slipped away into the shadows, rounding the corner toward home.

I walked on air. My whole body felt light, like something inside me had been uncaged. I smiled at the pavement, at the trees, at the streetlamp with its flickering bulb. I smiled like a fool the whole way back.

When I got home, the house was still and quiet. My parents had already turned in. Omid’s door was closed. I set my phone to charge in the living room, like I sometimes did when the battery was low, and tiptoed into my bedroom, changing quietly and slipping under the covers.

The sheets were cool against my skin. My heart was still racing—not from nerves, but from joy. I closed my eyes and whispered his name once into the silence, just because I could.

Elias.

I fell asleep smiling.

The next morning, there was a pronounced shift. The smell of fresh barbari bread and brewed tea did little to lift the weight in the air.