The Desert & the Dreamer.

Morning in Qamar Village broke soft and golden.

The palms stood still under the weight of dawn, their fronds shimmering faintly with dew. The desert beyond the fields glowed faintly pink, as though it remembered the night before ... as though it remembered them.

Layla sat by her window, her fingers curled around the edge of the sill.

Her eyes were dry now. Not because there were no tears left, but because she understood.

She could still feel him ... faint, warm, just beyond her reach.

When the wind stirred, it carried his scent.

When the sand glittered, it held his light.

And when she closed her eyes, she could still hear his whispers.

"Dreamer…"

The villagers bustled around her courtyard below, unaware that her whole world had shifted. That she was no longer just a girl from Qamar.

No.

She was his.

And he was hers.

Even if the world could not see it.

She stood, tying her scarf loosely around her hair, and slipped out of the house into the early light.

The air outside was cool, and the desert wind was gentle as it brushed her cheek ... almost like a caress.

She walked to the edge of the dunes.

The crystal lantern ... now dim, cold ... swung lightly in her hand. She'd brought it anyway.

It was the last piece of him she could touch.

And though it no longer glowed, it didn't feel dead. It felt… waiting.

When she reached the place where the dreamland had always begun, she stopped.

The silver dunes were gone now ... replaced by the same sand as always, plain and golden under the sun.

No shimmer. No glassy towers. No birds of light. No Malik.

But the air felt alive.

And in her heart, she felt it ... faint and steady, like a seed planted deep in the soil.

Somewhere, somehow… he was here.

She closed her eyes and let the wind move through her hair, carrying faint whispers she could almost ... almost ... make out.

"Dreamer…"

"Dreamer… still."

Her throat tightened.

Because even though she couldn't see him, couldn't touch him ... he was speaking to her.

And in the space where his golden eyes used to meet hers, she heard the desert answer.

The trees swayed softly and their leaves whispered down to her:

"Love is never lost."

The birds in the distance wheeled high above and sang faint notes that floated down like a secret:

"Even the stars fall… but their light remains."

The sand beneath her feet shimmered faintly, warm despite the cool morning:

"He was always yours."

Her breath caught.

And then ... as though nature itself had been waiting for her to believe ... the crystal lantern in her hand began to glow.

Soft at first. Faint as moonlight. But real.

The glow pulsed gently, steady as a heartbeat.

Her eyes blurred with tears she didn't try to stop this time.

Because she knew what it meant.

Malik was not gone.

He was here.

Not in flesh. Not in form.

But in everything around her.

The stars. The wind. The sand. The trees. The birds.

Her.

And maybe that was nature's decision all along ... not to keep him or to take him, but to change him. To make him something no darkness could touch, something no storm could erase.

"Something eternal."

She knelt in the sand and pressed the lantern to her chest, closing her eyes.

And she whispered into the quiet morning:

"If the dream ends… let me still be your dreamer."

The wind answered softly, curling around her like his arms once had:

"You are."

And though the sun rose higher, and the desert stretched silent and endless before her, Layla smiled through her tears.

Because the desert still shimmered.

The stars still whispered.

And her heart… still knew his name.

Malik.

Her wind.

Her flame.

Her impossible dream.

And always, always… her love.