The car continued moving in long, heavy silence… two full hours of darkness, gentle vibrations, and the uneven breaths of my siblings, curled up asleep beside me.
I stared out the window, seeing only gray lines crisscrossing in the darkness and scattered lights of a city I did not know.
I tried to stay awake, but exhaustion weighed down my eyelids little by little… until sleep finally overcame me.
When the car finally stopped, a slight jolt brought me back to awareness. I opened my eyes slowly, following my father's breath as he spoke softly to the driver:
"We're here."
I lifted my head, rubbing my tired shoulder, and looked around—the darkness enveloped us from every side, and the place seemed utterly isolated. I could hear only the rustle of the wind and the creak of a wooden door my father opened for us.
We entered the house one by one. My father lit the lamp by the door, and warm light slowly spilled into the hallway.
I froze for a moment, unable to believe what I was seeing…
The house was unexpectedly spacious, its walls a soothing pale color, and large windows overlooking a small garden glittering with dew.
Everything here felt different from our home in Yemen—no dampness, no cracked walls, no sound of the sea to remind me of what had happened.
I heard myself whispering without thinking:
"Oh God… what a beautiful house."
My father looked at us with a small smile and, setting down the bag, said:
"This will be our new home, at least for a while."
I wandered my eyes through the space, feeling a strange mix of relief and fear.
The silence here was eerie… like the calm before a storm.
I awoke to soft light filtering through the curtains, stinging my warm face after a heavy sleep.
I shifted a little in bed, trying to gather my thoughts… the quiet was strange here—not the fearful silence I knew, but a stillness I was unaccustomed to.
I reached out for someone in the room—but it was empty. I seemed to be the last to wake.
My hair was a complete mess, tangled as if the wind had played with it all night.
I stood before the mirror for a moment and muttered:
"Oh God… I look like I've been through a battle."
I chuckled softly, then stepped out of the room with slow, heavy steps.
I opened the door leading to the garden, and cold air rushed across my face.
There they were—my mother sitting on a wooden chair, watching my siblings wrestle on the grass.
They ran and shouted, pushing one another mercilessly, rolling on the ground as if in a small war, while my mother laughed and tried to break them up from afar.
I stood by the door for a moment, observing them, before I could resist no longer.
I ran toward them with all my energy and joined the chaos.
I shoved one of my brothers from behind, and he yelled angrily and chased me, until we all found ourselves in a funny tangle of shouts and light kicks.
We laughed until our stomachs hurt.
Between gasps, I turned to my mother and asked, panting:
"Where's Dad, Mom?"
She lifted her head toward me with a smile and said:
"He went with Barwen to the city."
I frowned. "The city? Why?"
She spoke calmly, watching us with her eyes:
"They went to pick up some household supplies. They won't be long."
I didn't care much, returning to play with them, until suddenly strange sounds came from the gate—heavy footsteps, followed by intermittent bleating and a cacophony of animal cries filling the air.
We all turned, and there stood my father, Barwen beside him, and behind them a small herd of sheep and two plump cows shaking with every step.
I froze in place, staring at the scene in wide-eyed shock. I cried out:
"Dad! Don't tell me you bought them! Please, no!"
My father laughed loudly.
"And why not? We'll have fresh milk every morning!"
I placed my hands on my head, muttering angrily:
"Great… our home has turned into a barn."
My father beckoned me to the barn and took Noor and Nora with me. He gave each of us a bucket and said:
"It's time to learn how to milk a cow."
Noor and Nora approached enthusiastically, trying to grasp the teats with their small hands, their laughter blending with the commotion, while I watched from a distance, frozen in front of the large cow.
The smell was strong and revolting, and flies buzzed relentlessly, making me sigh in disgust before touching anything.
My father looked at me with firm eyes, then smiled encouragingly:
"Go sit by her, I'll show you how."
I approached slowly, each step heavier than the last.
As I neared, the cow suddenly shuddered, startling me. I ran away as if fleeing death.
My father leapt forward, holding the cow steady and calming it barely, while scanning the surroundings, thinking perhaps a snake or something else was nearby… but there was nothing.
He looked at me again, his voice calm yet firm:
"Try again, you can do it."
I hesitated, every step weighing on my heart. All I could imagine was being trampled if the cow moved again. Fear consumed me, and my hands trembled. I couldn't get closer.
My father gently nudged me toward the cow again, but it shivered once more at my approach. I instinctively stepped back, accidentally brushing against the second cow, which too panicked and nearly trampled me and my siblings.
My father jumped forward, restraining the cows with his strength, then looked at me in astonishment, as if their fear was because of me.
Unable to bear it, I left the barn, angry, breathing in the cold air, trying to shake off the frustration.
After a moment, my father called me again. I was reluctant, but he kept calling. I sighed in annoyance and slowly approached him.
"If things don't work out with the cows, we'll try the sheep," he said.
He gave me leftover food and added:
"Feed them."
I approached the sheep cautiously, but they too panicked at my sight. One of the rams almost attacked me with his horns, charging angrily, making me shiver and retreat.
That day felt surreal—all the animals feared me, and I didn't understand why. Frustration overwhelmed me, my heart pounding with distress.
I couldn't fathom why we had to live all our lives in the countryside… among the smells, mud, and animal commotion.
I wanted to live in a bustling, illuminated city where the lights never went out and the towers touched the clouds. I wanted to touch the sky with my hands from the tallest building.
Suddenly, an idea struck me. I turned to Nora with a faint smile.
She looked at me, puzzled at first, then smiled back, laughing:
"I bet that's a dangerous idea!"
I leaned close and whispered mischievously:
"What if we sneak off to that big city… what was it called?"
I pretended to think for a moment, then spoke slowly:
"Shanghai."
Nora's smile faded, and worry settled quietly on her face.
"That's impossible, Nariman," she said softly. "Father will know. You know I can't hide my power—and the moment I leave the house, he'll sense it. He'll sense yours too, if you use it."
I smiled confidently, whispering:
"Don't worry… I have a plan. No one will ever know…"