You, Elaf Asfour, were anything but Durrab Isa.

You had a roughness about you that I never knew Durrab to have. A little jagged around the edges, a little worn out, almost as if you'd been forcefully ripped away from what used to be your home.

I wouldn't deny your presence was intimating, but so was mine—for in that bunker, five feet underground with the ground shaking beneath us and rumbling above us, with the water pressure on the iron bunker door rising by the minute, with just a lousy lightbulb accompanying us—you didn't exist to me.

I didn't want you to.

I sat with my legs drawn up to my knees, my back against a cupboard while simultaneously glancing at you tweaking with a radio you'd found on the floor. It wouldn't work or ever start up again but I didn't have the heart to tell you that—I didn't have the heart to do anything,

Because mine was left in an unlocked stable, victim to a storm that wouldn't let me see him ever again. My Wazir.

"Next time," the old woman chuckled, her voice piercing through the silence. "I am not paying heed to the forecast."

I hadn't paid much attention to her presence, simply because it was as negligible to me as yours. But as the overhanging lightbulb flickered on for just a few seconds—I drank in her appearance. Gray hair that glowed under the light, seemingly leather skin that drooped down her face, and hands decorated in wrinkles.

She reminded me of my father's mother, but then again, all grandmothers were the same, weren't they?

And then, at the same time as you, I saw it.

A round, ever-growing patch of dark red liquid a few inches above the hem of her cream-colored dress. I pushed my braid behind me as I stood up and carefully walked over to her. You followed close behind.

Your cologne, of course. You wouldn't be the hero of a 1950s vintage love story if your cologne couldn't even have survived through a storm.

I sat down next to her at the same time as you did. Would you stop copying me?

I lifted the hem a little to reveal a ghastly gash all across the length of her calf. A gash that wouldn't stop bleeding. Amani would have turned away in disgust—blood nauseated her—but I stayed put. This woman, old enough to pass for my grandmother, smiled down at us despite the blood that continued to stream down her leg. I noticed my own flowery summer dress drinking some of it in.

You reached over and untied the white cloth the woman had tied around her head. You jumbled up the cloth before lightly pressing it to the wound.

Catching me off-guard, you held my hand in your free one as you pressed my fingers to the cloth. "Apply pressure. I'll get the medical kit."

I nodded, my eyes on the woman. Sympathy rose up in me.

I turned around to watch you swing open the doors of the cupboard I was sitting against. You pulled out a couple of weary blankets, cans of beans and soup, and a small box with two lines over it whose color resembled that of the liquid running down the woman's leg.

You opened the kit to reveal just two things—a pack of antiseptic wipes and a roll of wound dressing. I scooted back as you unwound the rolls of bandages. You dabbed them over the gash on the woman's leg, albeit lightly. The next half-hour passed by in silence with the only sounds the pitter-patter above us, my gaze fixed on you as you cleaned the wound with water, wiped and then dressed it.

You had professionalism to your actions that I could never possess, even if I tried.

"Here, child," the woman patted on the seat next to her, and I scooted forward until her kneecap brushed mine. I put an arm around her and she slowly leaned into me until her bare head rested on the crook of my neck. "Call me Somayeh."

I smiled.

"What might be your blessed name?" She questioned.

"Jannat." You met my gaze. I was the first to look away.

"Blessed indeed," Somayeh spoke. I saw a smile in her voice. "The Jannat... from the Larder. The cook all cooks would do anything to be in the place of."

"And still be unsuccessful in their efforts," You broke the silence that ensued. "There's only one of her."

You should have known, Elaf Asfour, that flirting was least flattering.

I turned to Somayeh. "How do you know I'm from the Larder if you didn't know my name?"

She breathed in a couple of sighs before she replied. "You're not invisible behind that kitchen door. You are seen and heard more than that notorious accomplice of yours. You are the life of the Larder."

"I wouldn't call it that," I mumbled.

"I would," Somayeh spoke.

"And," You began. I raised my head up at you. "I think I would as well."

I narrowed my eyes. "I never served you anything."

"I'm sure my friend's word is sufficient," you shrugged.

It was hardly believable to me I was a hot topic amongst you and your acquaintances.

"Your friend's attention should not be encased by me." I raised my chin. "Amani holds the greater right to it."

"Does the same go for me?"

"That does not concern me." I turned away, my cheeks warm despite the cold that sent shivers down my spine every few seconds.

I felt your stare pierce through me like an arrow, and at the moment, all I wanted to do was gouge your eyes out. Had you no respect for a respectful lady, or had your flamboyant heart unlearnt all customs and ethics?

"I see we lack harmony here," Somayeh smiled. "Just a few hours in and you two are at each other's throats, how will the rest of your days go by?"

My eyes widened. The rest of our days? I was stuck in here... with you? "Pardon?"

"She means to say that storms, usually the ones around here, last for days," you clarified. "They seldom come by but when they do, they prolong their stay for as long as they want."

Somayeh creased her brows at me. "Were you not aware of that?"

I glanced down at my fingers. "I changed residencies from the city a few months ago. I was completely unprepared for this."

"The best possible way out—or under, I should say—is a bunker." You played with the antenna on the radio. "I did expect a little more precaution from the headman, pity he didn't come through on that. I've never seen such an undersupplied bunker in my life."

Arrogant little pri—language, Jannat.

"He does as much as he can."

"And how rapt is your belief in that, huh?" You laughed. "You're as much stranger to this town as I am."

"You've some nerve, haven't you?" I shot back, my tone rising. Somayeh was now eyeing me with disbelief. "We'd never have survived any of it had it not been for this safe place, no matter how underdeveloped it is. In storms, even a wood plank one might hide under is heaven."

"We'd never have survived had it not been for me," You spoke. You narrowed your eyes at me. "I could've as easily ignored your cry for Amani when I heard it, but I chose not to."

"If you were to slam it back in my face like this, you should have."

"You were to get yourself killed had you run after whatever it is you were going to run after. And had me and Somayeh followed you, we would've succumbed under your selfishness as well."

I could not get myself to believe my ears. Had you no idea I was running after the life of an animal? Just because Wazir had no tongue to speak, I could just abandon him when both of our lives were on the line?

"I never asked you to come for me, to wait for me, to help me. That was your choice and your weight to carry. Do not throw it on me."

You shook your head. I could see how hard you were trying to keep yourself together and not rip my head off. "Can you keep your mouth shut and show a little gratitude for the reality that you are alive and well?"

"Can you keep yours shut and show a little gratitude for this bunker no matter how insufficient it is for your royal arse?"

That seemed to shut you up. We held each other's gazes, both unwavering and indignant before I clenched my jaw and turned my head away. Your mere presence was already enough despicable to me, and I had no clue how long this storm would be lasting.

All I knew was that it would be earning enough curses from me for trapping me in a box with you.

***

You had finally tweaked the radio to life, and even when I prayed for the news to be anything but, the odds had been against me and never in my favor. All along. So had fate taken the decision for me—yours and Somayeh's were the only faces I'd be seeing for the next couple of days.

At times when we could no longer hear the pitter-patter above us, you would unlatch the door of the bunker and step out to get us water, your movements hurried and spontaneous.

And every time, right after you'd leave, I'd sit on the ladder with the bunker door open, my eyes staring up at the sky. Every time a drop of water would land on me, my heart would spike with fear. I'd climb out and glance about, my insides tingling with the absolute horror of you not returning on time before the storm started up again. Far and beyond, I'd see clouds of fog, but no you. And when I'd see a figure approaching through it all, outline getting clearer and clearer, I'd hurry back into the bunker and pretend I never anticipated your safe return.

Because unlike you, Elaf Asfour, I had regard for life, no matter a human's or animal's.

Somayeh's leg eventually caught onto an infection we only realized when you had been too tired to change her wound dressings and when you did, yellow pus oozed out. We shared a look that spoke volumes.

Assuring Somayeh her leg had begun to heal, I tucked her into an array of blankets after you fed her cold can soup.

"I thought infections—"

"Happened days after," you nodded, voice a low whisper. "But Somayeh can't fight it. She's not strong enough to."

"She—what?"

"She won't live."

You clenched your jaw just as I did mine. We had no proper medical treatment ready for Somayeh and neither of us housed enough knowledge for us to keep her alive. We would lose her either way.

Two nights passed, and when the second day came about, it brought with it anything but the promise of new beginnings. Somayeh's temperature skyrocketed to the point I could not wound an arm around her for more than a few minutes without my own body coursing in heat.

Every time you built a fire and warmed up soup for her, she'd push the tin back into my hands, saying I needed it more than she did. The truth of the matter was, Somayeh found the task of relieving herself too troublesome, her limbs sore by that point. The one solution she had seen insight was giving up on all food and water just to save herself from the hardship that came with it, and I did not have the heart to disagree. Every passing moment brought with it enough agony as it had, I did not want to force her into anything.

On the third night, I set the radio down before me and a glass of water next to it before I curled up on the floor, my back to you and Somayeh.

My chest felt tight and my heart heavy, a lump stuck in my throat. I waited for the feeling to pass but it didn't. It lingered.

I wondered how life could take such spontaneous turns, that one day I'd be stirring a spoon in a pot of cinnamon tea and the next to be made to spend my days underground with people I had no acquaintance with. The thought may have been a little too far-fetched for anyone else's liking, but I couldn't imagine this to be the rest of my life. The newscasters on the radio spoke of just a couple of days the storm would last, but my mind believed in anything but. I couldn't bear the thought of the rest of my days in a bunker without Wazir.

And before I knew it, my chest shook with violent sobs.

"Hey, hey," You spoke. I don't know how or why you rushed over to me. You lightly nudged me. "It's okay."

I buried my face in the sleeve of my dress. "Go away."

"I'm sorry, I can't leave you like this," you murmured. Had it not been so cold, my heart would've melted. "Can we talk?"

"Leave me alone."

"You need companionship right now."

"Not yours. Don't worry."

"I'm the best you've got."

That might as well have been the last straw for me. I sat up, and I could clearly care less about my runny nose, my disheveled hair, and my wet cheeks.

"I'm here because of you," I stabbed a finger into your chest. "Away from Amani, away from Wazir, away from my goats and my kitchen and my—"

"I'm sorry I had to make you leave them behind," You interrupted me. Was that sincerity in your voice? "But if I had to choose between them and you ever again."

You looked away, shoulders sagged. "Something tells me it'd still be you."

Had you felt it too or was it just me? Was I the only one who heard an inaudible click, like something that had been broken away had finally locked back into its rightful place?

I looked away from you, from your brown eyes that glimmered in the dark. I scooted back until my back touched the wall of the bunker, sending an array of chills up my spine. A low rumble could be heard not far away. I rubbed my hands over my shoulders just as you walked over to your designated spot next to the bunker ladder. You grabbed your own blanket and walked back up to me.

I stared at you in confusion as you draped it around me, tucking one end of it over the other. I bit my lip as you began to walk away, but I gripped your finger. My heart lurched in my chest.

"Can you sit here with me?"

You were quicker in recovering than I was. You nodded, settling yourself next to me, my fingers still gripping yours. I immediately let go.

"Are you cold?" I questioned. Your side profile wasn't... that bad.

"It's alright."

I nodded slowly, pursing my lips.

"This is extremely conventional," you spoke after a while, a smile on your lips. "And not how I imagined my stay here to be."

I couldn't help but smile back. "I assume you've never been here before?"

You shook your head. "Durrab and I grew up in the farther south, even though our parents rode ponies in this one."

"The farther south... the city?"

"More or less." You shrugged. "As cousins, we led a very sheltered life. Kind of what pushed me to step out of my Magistrate uncle's prison and see what life outside of it was like. It wasn't long before Durrab made the choice to accompany me."

"You must've been to quite a lot of places."

"All of the south and some of the east. Not beyond that." You looked at me. "What about you?"

"Grew up in the city, had dreams of a farmhouse. Here I am."

"Grateful for the last part."

I... was flustered?

"You don't even know me," I laughed, shaking my head.

"Would you believe me if I told you I do?"

My laughter stilled. How was he saying all the right things to me?

"As in... as in following me around?"

"No no, of course not." You turned to me, crossing your legs underneath yourself. "You're familiar to me. From how much I heard about you from Amani, how much I've gathered myself—nothing about you surprises me. You just fit in without even trying."

This was the very feeling I'd been fighting against since the very beginning, that somehow, my heart had recognized your arrival, that somehow we'd met even without meeting. I had no words for it, I had no idea what would be a suitable descriptor for it—this feeling was alien to me and I believed if I pushed it down, there would come a time when it wouldn't spring back up.

I smiled and looked away. We sat in silence, my head against the wall just as yours was. The rain outside started up again and as the noise engulfed the silence, I tightened the blanket around me.

From the corner of my eye, I watched you close the gap between us until our thighs touched and my shoulder brushed yours. I slowly lowered my head on your shoulder and felt you tense up, all before you relaxed.

"Elaf?"

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid of falling."

A moment of silence followed.

"I'll catch you."

***

It happened earlier than either of us had anticipated.

I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes when Somayeh began coughing. And they weren't just regular coughs. Violent coughs that bared a strong resemblance to the thunders and rumbles outside. Coughs that sent my heart plummeting to the ground.

You undressed the wound, turning your head away as soon as you did. The entire length of Somayeh's leg, right up to her thigh had paled into a white sheet. White crust had formed around the gash and I closed my eyes as yellow-green pus oozed out in periods.

Somayeh held an arm out for me and I wasted no time as I hurried next to her. I arranged the blankets around her multiple times before Somayeh gently laid a hand on my arm. "Jannat?"

"Yes, Somayeh?" I hated the minute tremors in my voice.

"I'll only be here... 'til Bon; if—" Somayeh coughed and I grabbed the tin can of water, but she shook her head and pushed it away.

"Please don't speak," I whispered, but you shook your head.

"Let her."

Somayeh smiled at you—a weary one. Then, she turned her eyes up to the ceiling before her voice filled the bunker.

"I'll only be here... 'til Bon; if Bon comes early, I'll go home early."

"Please just—"

"I'm just a beggar." Cough. "These are goodly folk, with nice obi waist-sashes and... and nice kimono." I kept my eyes riveted on her chest, on the slow rise and fall of it. "If I should die, bury me by the roadside... offerings or water will come from the—"

Panic gripped me as Somayeh's eyes began to droop. "No. No. Stay awake. Complete the lullaby. Soma—"

Her breaths turned deeper, her fingers around mine loosening.

"Heavens," she breathed. Her chest rose for the last time, the final time, before it fell, never to rise again.

No handheld mine. No Somayeh lived.

We wasted no time with the funeral. I wrapped as many blankets as I could, I scavenged the bunker for any cloth I could find to keep her body warm, but warmth could never be sought in a lifeless body.

You recoiled in a corner of the bunker, but I stayed by Somayeh's side.

"If I should die, who would cry for me?" I completed the lullaby, pushing the blanket to cover Somayeh's still face. "Only the locusts in those pine mountains."