He’s not who you think he is,” Amina hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “He’s deceiving you, Zainab. He’s not a beggar by birth.”

Zainab’s heart skipped a beat. What did Amina mean? Her mind raced, but she forced herself to remain composed. She was determined not to let her sister’s words shake her newfound happiness.

Returning to the hut, Zainab found Yusha sitting outside, mending a tear in their only blanket. She could hear the soft hum of his voice, a melody that had become her comfort. As she approached, she hesitated, the seed of doubt planted by her sister taking root.

Силна потенција дури и после 70 години! Рецептот е едноставен
Alpha Male

“Yusha,” Zainab began, her voice trembling slightly. “My sister…she said something today. Something about you.”

Yusha looked up, his expression unreadable. He set aside the blanket and took her hand gently. “What did she say?”

“She said you’re not who you say you are. That you weren’t always a beggar.”

Silence stretched between them, taut and fragile. Zainab could hear the wind rustling through the reeds by the river, the distant chirrup of crickets welcoming the dusk.

Yusha sighed, a sound heavy with untold stories. “It’s true, Zainab. I wasn’t always a beggar.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, but she urged him to continue. “Then who were you?”

“My family was once well-off,” Yusha began, his voice steady but laced with old pain. “We lived in the city, and my father ran a successful business. But when he died, everything changed. My uncle took over and squandered our wealth. I was left with nothing. To survive, I came to this village and started begging. It was the only way I knew how to start again.”

Zainab listened intently, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm as if they held the map of his life story. She didn’t know what to say, but she felt an overwhelming sense of compassion and respect for him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly.