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❝Angels don't lie, but you do. If I'm a devil, what are you?❞
When Burq loses his memory in an accident and doesn't remember his own wife anymore, Leyla finds it a chance to escape her beastly husband and pretends to be his friend...
I thought I had no heart. I find I have, and a heart doesn't suit me.
— Oscar Wilde
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"You're always telling me a story. I'll tell you one today."
The vermillion shades of sky at dusk reminds him of the day at beach with her. It was a warm day of late summer compared to this cooler one of early spring. He remembers her being happy then, and maybe he was happy too. But today, he's bathed in bliss though he knows she isn't. Leyla is becoming weaker at pretending, or maybe he has become better at reading her.
It is his thirtieth birthday today. She has baked him a cake— simple yet showing the heart she has put into it. Nothing could've given him anymore joy than this, and suddenly he understands what she meant when she said she appreciated gestures that showed love.
She has brought him a gift too but he hasn't unpacked it. She asked him not to do so yet. And with each passing second he's only becoming more curious of what's inside the box. But he remains patient for her.
"Tell me your story then," she says with a smile and leans into his side. He puts his arm around her.
They're sitting on the stairs of the patio at his house, his birthday cake and present lying on the table untouched. She wanted to see the artwork at sunset first and he agreed.
"Once upon a time there was a king," he begins. "He had a vizier, an adviser. One day the king asked him to tell him something that when he thought it during his happy moments, he'd become sad. And that when he thought of it during his sad moments, he'd become happy."
Leyla looks up at him in interest, those dark orbs instantly webbing words, trying to fabricate a response. But the web in her eyes becomes a mess, like some labyrinth, which he starts wandering into and is lost.
"What does the vizier say?" she asks.
"What do you think?"
She hums, thinking again, and he sees falling stars in her eyes, as if she has given up— as if the threads holding those stars have broken down.
"I can't think of any such thing," she replies.
"Well, the vizier was very wise," Burq says and she laughs softly, nudging him away.
"You mean to say I'm not?"
"Did I now?" he bugs before kissing her temple and continuing, "He told the king something that could make him sad in a happy situation and vice versa." He reaches out to tuck back her hair, staring into her eyes as his voice becomes melancholic, "he said: this time shall pass too. Every good moment, and sad ones too. And if you think of it in your hard times, it gives you hope. But if you think of it in your happy moments, it saddens you."
Her features soften into an unreadable expression as she searches his eyes. She presses her palm to his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb.
