After the Rain

The rain that day felt different.

It wasn't heavy like the storm weeks ago, nor sad like the morning Nael left. It was soft, warm, almost musical. The kind of rain that made wild things bloom.

Farah and Nael stood in the field, soaked and laughing. The mud clung to their boots, and the mint leaves around them glistened like tiny emeralds.

Nael pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers.

"Still want to build this life with me?" he asked.

Farah smiled, her eyes full of sunlight and something fiercer. "Only every day."

---

The next week passed in bursts of preparation. Jiddo Omar carved new fence posts, muttering about Nael's "city hands" but secretly enjoying the company. Nana Salma began planning a wedding "just big enough for the people who matter—and the goats."

Nael converted the old chicken shed into a tiny editing studio, stringing lights across the rafters and scribbling storyboard notes between feeding times. His world behind the lens had changed. Now, it wasn't about capturing wild stories. It was about telling honest ones.

And Farah?

She planted more lavender. Painted the barn door blue. And kissed him every time he passed.

---

One evening, they sat under the olive tree, just like they had weeks ago.

Only now, there were no questions hanging between them. Only plans.

"We could start a farm vlog," Nael said. "Show people what real life looks like. Goats and all."

Farah raised a brow. "Only if I get editing rights."

"Deal."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

He unfolded it slowly.

It was a hand-drawn map—of the farm, the orchard, the stream.

And on one corner, beside a crooked little sketch of a treehouse, she'd written:

"The life we're growing."

Nael stared at it, then at her.

"I'll never want anything more than this."

Farah leaned her head on his shoulder. "Then let's grow it. Slow. Wild. Real."

---

And under that wide, patient sky—their story kept blooming