My heart floated up singing. We were the same then,
after all.
He pulled me into his arms and stroked my hair.
“You’re very important to me, Layla.”
I looked into his eyes, the dark, gold-flecked irises. I
loved this man. Maman would be so disappointed.
*
I was lying on the stone floor, too hot to move or speak;
breathing was an effort. Sunlight poured through the windows and drained the
colour from everything – even the red gabbeh and the silver samovar
looked dull in this stark light. Sweat trickled down my back and stuck my
t-shirt to me.
“Here,” Keyvan said, putting a glass of water down
beside me.
I rolled onto my side, leaned on an elbow and took a
sip. The water was ice-cold, delicious. “I wish we could go swimming,” I
said, flopping back onto the floor. It was agony
