As the sun dipped lower behind the tall iron gates of Zarki's estate, casting long shadows over the walls of the harem, a different kind of darkness settled inside. A silence crept in, not the peaceful kind, but the type that sat heavily in the air like mist after rainfall. Tora stood quietly by the door of Anna's quarters, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She had knocked twice and waited, unsure if her presence would be welcomed.
When the door creaked open, Anna's weary eyes met hers. No words were exchanged, but they understood each other perfectly. Tora stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her.
The room smelled of jasmine oil and dried herbs. A candle flickered in the corner, its dim flame casting soft shadows across Anna's face. She looked pale, worn thin by days of inner conflict. Tora reached for her hand without a word. They sat together on the bed, two women who had found friendship in the most unlikely of places. And now, that fragile thread was the only thing keeping them from crumbling.
"I can't do this," Tora said at last, her voice a fragile whisper.
Anna nodded slowly. "Me too. I'm scared, I can't."
There it was. The truth, plain and terrifying.
Tora leaned forward, placing her head in her hands. "It feels like we're being hunted. Like we have to prove something to stay alive in this place. And for what? To give birth to a child we'll raise under the weight of politics and power?"
Anna's fingers trembled as she clutched the edge of the bedsheet. "When I came here, I didn't think I'd be fighting for a future I never wanted. I just wanted to survive. To be okay. But now, it's not enough. We are demanded to win."
Tora lifted her eyes, red with tears. "What if I don't want to win? What if I just want to leave?"
A moment passed. Then Anna reached for the small wooden chest under her bed and pulled out a wrapped object, an old cell phone. It was forbidden to make calls outside the estate without clearance, but she had kept the device hidden, for moments like this.
"Let's call our parents," Anna said, her voice barely above a breath.
Tora hesitated, her heart racing. But something inside her gave way, and she nodded.
They huddled close together, dialing Anna's home first. The line crackled before a familiar voice answered. "Anna? Anna, is that you?"
"Mum" her voice broke. "Mum, I want to come home."
Silence. "What happened?" her mother asked, instantly alarmed.
"I don't want to be here anymore. There's a contest, a silent one, we're all being pitted against each other to bear Zarki's first child. They didn't say it outright, but we know. We see it. We feel it. I don't want to do this. I can't."
Tora leaned closer so her voice could carry through. "Tell her I feel the same. I want to leave too."
Anna did. The silence on the other end was deafening. Then came a sigh, deep and resigned. "My daughter," her mother said finally, "you have come too far. Do not let fear chase you away now."
"But Mum," "Listen to me, Anna. This could be your time. You might be the one. And if you are, everything changes for you, for all of us. Your father, he's been hoping for this."
Anna's lip trembled. "I didn't ask for this." "No," her mother replied, voice soft now. "But you are there. And maybe fate has placed you where you are meant to be."
Before they hung up, her mother added something that lingered like smoke in the room: "Sometimes, the path to greatness comes wrapped in thorns."
Anna ended the call with trembling fingers. Her eyes met Tora's.
"Call yours," she whispered. Tora took the phone with a shaking hand and dialed. Her father picked up this time.
"Dad" she couldn't hold back her tears. "I want to come home. Please. I don't want to be here anymore. It's like a war."
"A war?" his voice was stern. "Tora, I sent you to a palace, not a battlefield."
"No, dad, you don't understand. All the women are trying to get pregnant first. There's pressure, there's fear, there's…"
"Exactly," he interrupted. "That means you must try harder. You have as much right to succeed as the rest of them. Tora, don't let those other women walk all over you. You are strong."
She looked at Anna, her strength crumbling. "But I don't want to fight."
"Then you'll lose," her father said bluntly. "Is that what you want? To come home in disgrace? After everything we've invested in your future?"
Tora swallowed hard. "No."
"Good. Then stay. Be wise. And pray. Remember why you were chosen to be in that house."
When the call ended, the room was quiet again. But the kind of quiet that screams louder than any voice.
Tora handed the phone back to Anna, her face blank. "They want us to stay."
Anna nodded. "They think we have a chance."
"Do we?" Tora asked.
"I don't know," Anna said, pulling her knees to her chest. "But we can't run. Not now."
Tora leaned back on the bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe we don't have to fight like them. Maybe we find our own way to survive."
Anna turned to her. "Together?"
Tora gave a soft, broken smile. "Together."
Anna tilted to Tora again with gentle eyes and whispered, "Please, let this contest not come between us. No matter what happens, I love you." Her voice trembled with emotion, holding onto the bond they once shared, hoping it could survive the storm now brewing around them.
Outside, the moon crept into the sky like a silent observer, watching as two fragile hearts held each other in quiet rebellion. They didn't know what the future held. But they knew they would face it side by side.