The days stretched on as Ali and his companions fled deeper into the desert, but far from their escape, Sonia remained behind. It wasn't that she hadn't tried to follow, or that she didn't wish she could join them. She had watched them disappear into the horizon, feeling a pang of something—regret, longing, or maybe guilt—twist deep inside her. But she knew she couldn't follow.
She stood at the balcony of the mansion, her gaze fixed on the vast expanse of sand. It was a cruel, endless wilderness that seemed to mirror the prison she had spent so many years in. Yet, there was something in the desert's silence that called to her. Something she couldn't ignore.
A soft breeze stirred her hair, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt as if the wind was whispering her name, beckoning her to follow. But Sonia had learned to listen to her heart, and it told her to stay. There was a story she had to finish telling—a story that had begun long before Ali ever entered her life. And for that, she had to go back. Back to where it all began.
The world inside the mansion was empty now. The last of the guards had been silenced, and the sheikh, his empire crumbling, had retreated into the shadows. But Sonia had not been part of the final act. She was an observer in the drama of Ali's escape, someone who had been left behind to deal with the consequences of the choices she had made. But those choices didn't define her. Not yet.
Sonia closed her eyes and let the memory sweep over her like a tide.
---
It was many years ago, in a small village in the heart of Morocco. Sonia had been young then—too young to truly understand the weight of her circumstances, too naive to comprehend the cruelty of the world. The world had been small back then, limited to the village, the streets, the marketplace, and the people who passed through it. But even within this small universe, Sonia had felt a restlessness, a yearning for something more. It was a simple, quiet life, and yet there had always been a sense of waiting. Waiting for something to break through the monotony, for something to change.
Her family, despite their modest means, had been tight-knit. They shared everything: laughter, food, and stories. Her father, an elder with kind, gentle eyes, had taught her how to fix things, how to be resourceful, how to use her hands and her mind to make the most of their meager life. Sonia had always loved him most in those moments, when they worked together, when she learned from him.
But that peace was shattered one day when everything Sonia knew was ripped away.
---
She had been in the marketplace when the men arrived. She remembered it like it was yesterday: the dust rising in the heat of the afternoon, the sounds of merchants haggling, the smells of spices and fresh bread filling the air. It had been an ordinary day, and Sonia had been running an errand for her mother. She had no reason to be wary, no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary.
But then, without warning, the men appeared.
There had been no introduction, no explanation. They had come in a convoy of trucks, their faces masked, their movements cold and calculating. They had simply appeared, forcing their way into the marketplace, their rifles slung over their shoulders. The crowd had scattered, and Sonia had frozen, her heart racing in her chest.
Her father had been the first to react. He had always been protective of her, especially after her mother's passing. But he was no match for them. Sonia had watched, helpless, as he tried to resist, his fists raised in defiance. But the men had struck him down, and Sonia had screamed, running toward him, trying to reach him. But it was futile.
In the chaos that ensued, Sonia had been separated from her father. She had been pulled away by the men, her legs dragging in the sand as they hauled her toward the trucks. She had fought them, kicking and screaming, but there were too many of them. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the sound of her father's voice calling her name, his cries fading into the distance as she was shoved into the back of a truck.
---
Sonia's eyes snapped open, the memory fading like smoke. She had come a long way since then, hadn't she? But those moments—the ones that shaped her, that changed everything—were still as vivid as ever. And they haunted her, especially now.
She could still hear the truck's engine roaring as they drove, her thoughts swirling in panic. She hadn't known where they were taking her, only that it was somewhere far from her village, far from the only life she had known. There had been others in the truck with her, other girls, other children, all of them looking as lost as she felt.
They had been sold. The men who had taken them had called it a transaction, a business deal. But to Sonia, it felt like a theft—a theft of her freedom, her identity, her future.
---
Her thoughts drifted back to the present as she paced the balcony, unable to push the memory away. She had been sold to the highest bidder, a man whose name she had never learned, but whose face would haunt her for the rest of her days. The sheikh's compound had been a prison, but Sonia had learned to survive. She had become a shadow, an invisible figure who blended into the background. She had endured the cruelty, the manipulation, the constant fear. But it hadn't broken her.
Over the years, she had built walls around herself, each one higher than the last. She had stopped feeling for others, stopped caring. She had accepted her fate, even as the sheikh's world crumbled around her. But there was still a part of her that had never fully given in. It was that spark, that flicker of defiance, that had been ignited when she first saw Ali.
---
Sonia paused in her thoughts, shaking her head as if trying to clear the fog that had gathered. She had been part of the escape plan. She had been an integral piece of the puzzle that had led Ali and the others to their freedom. But there had been a moment, in the midst of it all, when Sonia realized something: she could never leave.
The desert was her home now. It was the one thing that remained unchanged, the one constant in her fractured world. The life she had built in the mansion had become a ghost of its former self. The sheikh was gone, the guards scattered, and yet, Sonia couldn't bring herself to walk away. She had already lost so much. But if she left, what would be left of her? Would she become a ghost too?
---
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind her. She turned to see one of the servants, a familiar face, standing in the doorway. The woman bowed her head respectfully.
"Sonia," the servant said softly. "There is word from the other side of the desert. They have escaped. Ali... he is free."
Sonia's heart skipped a beat. She had known this moment would come. It had been inevitable. But hearing the words aloud made everything feel real.
She looked out over the desert, her mind torn between the life she had built and the life that awaited her, the life that would always pull her forward. She had always believed she could escape her past, but the truth was, she couldn't outrun it. The desert had shaped her. It had made her who she was, for better or worse.
She turned back to the servant, her voice steady. "Tell them I'm not going. I have unfinished business here."
---
Sonia didn't know how much longer she stood there, lost in the vastness of her thoughts. It felt like hours, but in truth, it had only been moments. The desert had a way of distorting time, of stretching it beyond what seemed possible. But one thing was clear now: she had made her choice.
Her past might have bound her, but she had the power to shape her future. She would never truly be free from what had happened to her—but she could decide how to live with it.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sonia finally turned away from the balcony and walked back into the mansion, the echoes of the past still swirling in her mind. There was much work to be done.