📌 Previously in Chapter 32:
Zayd, finally with a moment to breathe, wandered into Salim's private palm garden — and unexpectedly reunited with Layla bint Samirah. Catching her feeding birds in the morning sun, unveiled and radiant, he whispered poetry that stirred even his own heart. Their playful, guarded exchange left Zayd more enchanted than ever.
📍 Scene: Salim's Garden – Late Afternoon
A golden haze settled over the garden as Zayd reclined beneath a date palm, arms crossed behind his head, a lazy smile on his lips. Nimr rested beside him, pecking gently at a fig core.
Not far away, Layla sat on a low bench near the pond, brushing her fingers through the water absentmindedly.
ZAYD (to himself, soft poetic tone):
"Her words are shields, but her silence is song,
She walks like a riddle, right and wrong,
And I—no sage, no knight, no king—
Only a fool who dares to sing."
Layla looked up sharply, half amused.
LAYLA:
"That better not be about me."
ZAYD (grinning):
"Only the parts that glow."
LAYLA (smirking):
"Careful. If you keep this up, I'll start charging a fee per verse."
Zayd chuckled and stood, brushing dust off his robe. He walked toward her, hands behind his back like a student before a stern teacher.
ZAYD:
"Then allow me one last free verse before inflation hits."
He placed a hand dramatically on his chest.
ZAYD (singing softly):
"Eyes like dusk in Shiraz skies,
Lips that steal the poet's cries,
Hair that winds like desert stream,
You walk, and marble dares to gleam."
Layla raised an eyebrow, clearly trying not to smile.
LAYLA:
"You've either read too many Persian love poems… or written too many bad ones."
ZAYD:
"Both. I'm guilty of passion and plagiarism."
📍 Scene Change: Entrance of the Garden – Moments Later
Suddenly, footsteps echoed at the gate. A young man in an emerald cloak strode in. He was tall, well-groomed, and carried himself like someone used to admiration. His eyes fixed instantly on Layla — then, Zayd.
FAHAD ibn QAYS.
Layla's distant family friend. And persistent admirer.
FAHAD (smiling, cold):
"Well, well. I heard the birds were fed here… but didn't expect a singing beggar to be part of the entertainment."
Zayd tilted his head. Nimr flared his wings slightly.
LAYLA (coolly):
"Fahad, this is Zayd ibn Suleiman. My father's friend's associate. And a guest of Salim uncle."
FAHAD (eyeing Zayd):
"Guest or parasite? Baghdad has enough men pretending to be merchants."
Zayd smiled politely. But his tone sharpened.
ZAYD:
"Better to pretend with manners than speak with none."
Fahad stepped closer.
FAHAD:
"Then let's make this simple. Tomorrow, in the plaza by the Garden Gate, a poetry duel is being held. Judges, prizes, all the usual. Why don't you bring your feathered pigeon and see how your rhymes hold up?"
Layla sighed, clearly annoyed.
LAYLA:
"Not this again, Fahad—"
FAHAD (to her):
"For you, Layla. To show that not every poet is a poor dreamer."
ZAYD (grinning):
"I accept."
Fahad looked surprised.
ZAYD (confident):
"I'll bring poetry. You bring your pride."
Fahad scoffed, turned, and left, cloak trailing behind.
Zayd exhaled, then glanced at Layla.
ZAYD (softly):
"Tomorrow, I may owe some poets of a nur from jannat serious apology."
Layla covered her smile with her veil, but her eyes were shining.
📍 Scene: Salim's Garden Gate – Evening
As Zayd left, Nimr perched silently beside him.
ZAYD (murmuring):
"Well, brother, time to dig into the greatest verses of history… and pretend I wrote them all."
End of Chapter 33