The market breathed like a living creature.
Lanterns swayed in the soft evening breeze, casting warm gold over crowded stalls. Vendors shouted prices over each other, spices perfumed the air, and bells on children's anklets chimed as they wove through the crowd. Everything shimmered with noise, color, and restless movement.
Saad pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.
"I'll go get the tickets," she muttered before marching into the thick of the crowd, her short figure swallowed instantly by the sea of bodies.
The moment she vanished, Catreena quietly exhaled.
It wasn't that she disliked Saad. But… with her gone, there was space to breathe.
Space for someone else.
Suad walked beside her, tall and unmissable even in the chaos of the market. His silver hair caught the lanterns like liquid frost, and the blindfold over his eyes did nothing to dim his presence. If anything, it added something—mystery, confidence, danger. He looked like a prince carved straight out of old lore, the kind mothers used to whisper about to make their children dream or fear.
Catreena's stomach flipped at the thought.
Why am I like this? Why can't I think normal, soft, girly thoughts? Why does my brain insist on turning everything into a tragic drama or some dark comedy?
She groaned inwardly.
Great. Now she was narrating her own misery like a street poet.
They walked a little farther, weaving between stalls selling everything from embroidered slippers to fried beetles on sticks. Suad's head turned slightly with every new sound, like a man trying to memorize the world through echoes and scent alone. There was something oddly careful—almost graceful—about the way he moved.
Then he stopped.
"Hey… what's that?"
The question jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts. She turned and followed the direction of his hand.
He was pointing at a stall piled high with crab tomatoes—round red shells stacked neatly in pyramids, glistening under the lantern light.
Catreena blinked once. Twice.
Is he serious?
"It's a crab tomato," she said, face already twitching with suppressed laughter.
Suad's expression was impossible to read under the blindfold, but confusion practically radiated off him.
"That is not a tomato," he said firmly.
She snorted. "Yes, it is."
"Tomatoes do not come in shells," he countered, scandalized. "Was this caught in the sea? Or grown on land?"
That was it. Catreena pressed both hands over her mouth to stop the laughter threatening to explode. Her shoulders shook violently.
"It grows in farms," she choked out. "It's… it's a normal vegetable."
"It is not normal," Suad declared. "It looks like it hasn't decided if it belongs to sea or soil. Vegetables should act like vegetables. They should not pretend to be crabs."
Her laughter burst free, bright and messy. The vendor laughed, too, wiping tears from his eyes. The people around them glanced over, some smiling, because joy—real joy—was rare enough to make strangers look.
Suad, unfazed, let out a careless chuckle. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
But it was warm.
Too warm.
Catreena's heart stumbled.
He's doing this on purpose… isn't he?
Trying to make me laugh?
The thought settled in her chest like a glowing ember, small and dangerous.
She opened her mouth to say something—anything—
when the world around them suddenly felt colder.
A shadow fell over the stall.
And everything shifted.