“…Winter.”
Layla raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t take you for the snow type.”
“You can always wear more clothes.”
She snorted.
“You just don’t like people, do you?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Okay, okay.”
She chuckled.
“What about friends? Got any?”
“…Had a few.”
Layla caught the shift in his tone and softened.
“Do you miss them?” Stay connected with My Virtual Library Empire
“…”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched the fire flicker, the wood crackling softly.
“Next question.”
For a moment, there was silence, then she shook off the mood and grinned again.
“Okay, what about something that makes you laugh?”
Malik snickered faintly.
“People running from animals smaller than them.”
Layla cackled.
“Like what? Rats?”
“Rats, chickens, tiny canines.”
He paused.
“Saw a full-grown man get chased by a baby monkey once.”
Layla was wheezing.
“No way—what happened?”
“He lost.”
She practically fell over laughing.
“I—oh my God—was he okay?”
Malik shrugged.
“Depends on what you call okay.”
Layla wiped a tear from her eye.
“You have got to tell me that story later.”
“I won’t.”
Layla groaned, but she was still grinning.
“One day, I’m only gonna get real answers out of you.”
Malik smirked just a little.
“Good luck with that.”
Layla puffed her cheeks in retaliation and kept going, asking one question after another. And somehow, Malik found himself responding truthfully more and more.
Maybe it was the warm fire, or maybe it was the way Layla’s enthusiasm refused to be shut down, he didn’t know, but he didn’t bother to think about it too much and just played along, more interested in the food.
***
{Outside The Projection}
Zafar rubbed his face with both hands.
“I still don’t get it… How? How is he just sitting there? Eating. Talking, after hearing that.”
Azeem let out an exacerbated sigh.
“That’s because he doesn’t care… he’d long since accepted his fate. Killing the Former Sultan was the goal, living through it was just a luxury.”
“No… this…”
Huda lowered her head.
“Is this why he stopped caring? Why he did everything, even the vile, to kill my uncle? Just because he’s a…”
“A dead man walking.”
Safira finished, voice barely above a whisper.
After that, one by one, their gazes returned to the projection, to the crackling fire, unable to see the way Malik existed among them. A scene that couldn’t stop surprising them. A ghost among men.
Layla, though, wasn’t surprised. Not like the others.
Unlike Huda and Safira watching their past selves, Layla showed a soft smile, eyes drinking in every detail.
She could hear her father’s soft laughter, see the way she subtly guided Malik into the conversation, and see the way Malik, despite himself, responded.
And she loved it.
This was her home.
The whinnying steeds, the flapping tents, the warmth of the fire, the scent of spice and roasted meat, the flickering light dancing across their faces, the laughter, the teasing, the stubborn refusal to let Malik’s sharp edges keep them away. All of it was home.
But Layla wasn’t blind. She knew the future, knew what was coming. The tragedy that turned all of this to ash. However… that didn’t mean she had to let it poison the past.
She wouldn’t.
“You were always a storyteller first, Baba.”
Layla chuckled, even as her eyes burned.
“You know…”
Huda spoke, voice clipped.
“He’s going to kill him. You do understand that, right?”
Layla’s smile didn’t waver.
“I know.”
“And you’re… okay with that?”
Layla turned to her, and for a moment, she simply stared at her.
“W-What?”
Chuckling at her reaction, she shrugged and looked away.
“It’s not about okay or not okay. It’s just how it is.”
“…”
Huda’s lips parted, then closed.
She had no words… Because Layla wasn’t wrong.
There was no changing the cards you were dealt. You could only accept them and move forth, choosing whether to enjoy the somber warmth they brought.
Layla? She chose to enjoy the warmth.
***
{Inside The Projection}
As the food finished cooking, the other members of the caravan, one by one, began to leave.
Not in an obvious way, but in that casual, ‘we totally don’t see what’s happening here’ kind of way.
Malik easily picked up on it, the quiet glances and small smirks, the way they grabbed their food and conveniently found something to do elsewhere.
Layla noticed too, her face heating up.
“Tch! Meddling fools…”
Though she complained, she was thankful, but yeah, she wasn’t about to tell them that.
Ali Baba, watching from a distance, scoffed but made no move to interfere and left as well, giving them privacy.
Malik, for his part, just sat there, eating his food, humming in approval after every bite.
“Not bad.”
Layla perked up, deciding to ignore the other for now.
“Right? I seasoned it myself!”
Malik nodded.
“Thanks for the meal. Wouldn’t mind eating it every day.”
Layla’s face turned red as she smacked his shoulder—once, twice, repeatedly.
“W-Well, obviously! Hehe! You better be grateful!”
Then, before he could respond, she shot up to her feet and ran off.
Oblivious to the not-so-hidden hidden meaning behind his words, Malik’s gaze followed her until she left completely, then turned back to the fire, watching the flames dance in the night.
Now only he remained, or so one might think. Malik was far from lonely. Sinbad and Jasmine sat next to him, swinging their feet and bobbing their heads as they hummed a song.
He didn’t know when they ‘came by’ exactly but he didn’t mind them.
They weren’t nightmarish. They were peaceful.
And this peace… it was new to him…
Malik didn’t know what to think about it.
But he didn’t get long to do so.
“Hey, brother!”
A man came up behind him, and his hand clapped down on his shoulder.
It was some random guard Malik didn’t bother to know the name of, grinning at him, leaning in like they were old friends.
“Ain’t you lucky~? Getting all chummy with such a beautiful girl?”
Malik turned to him, his expression blank.
“…Beautiful?”
The guard raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah?”
Malik looked back at the fire, his voice quiet.
“I wouldn’t know.”