Chapter Seven‘This time next week I shall be travelling.’
These were the only words Ibrahim could find to say to Zainab when he met her returning from the watering place carrying her pitcher full of water and they struck her like a thunderbolt, numbing her senses.
She returned to the house hesitating along the way, almost out of her mind whenever Ibrahim’s words echoed inside her. In spite of the pain she was suffering she carried on with her normal tasks until just before sunset, then she returned to the watering place with her empty pitcher which she propped up by the canal before making her way through the fields until she found Ibrahim. Walking a short distance together they sat down to rest against a tree trunk beside a water wheel which concealed them from the glances of passers-by
