‘Not very often, but probably once or twice a year we’d take acarriage somewhere,’ he replied. ‘The last carriage ride I took was a trip we all made to Whitebridge. I don’t remember why we went—it must have been something my mother needed for the shop, perhaps some special fabric or something, I can’t remember.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘I just remember how exciting it was. Dania laughed like you did when the carriage first started. She thought it was a game, something fun.’
‘Tell me more,’ Sonya said, turning her body towards his to see him better.
His expression grew fond at the memories. ‘Everything was so…perfect. Dania was just learning how to crawl. She was so chubby, absolutely adorable, and always laughing, speaking in baby-babble.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Life was so good and I didn’t even know it. I thought things would always be like that. If I’d known how much things would change, how much I would miss those moments, those days, I would have—’ He broke off.
‘You would have what?’ she asked, voice gentle.
He thought about it. ‘I don’t know, actually,’ he said. ‘It’s so difficult to recognize perfect moments of joy when you are living them, which moments will become memories you visit again and again.’ Then he looked at her and smiled. ‘Well, it isn’t always difficult.’
His gaze was warm, and she felt her heartbeat quicken in response. Feeling hot, she slid her shawl off her shoulders, folding it and putting it in her lap.
She turned her gaze to the window and, as they rode past new areas, Sonya asked Azam about all the new things she was seeing: which villages the roads led down to, what was grown in those fields, was that a river she saw?
They chatted until they fell into a comfortable silence. The carriage continued rocking, and Sonya yawned, feeling sleepy. Before she could doze off, they arrived at the first stop.
The carriage came to a halt, and they all disembarked. Since Sonya was sitting by the window, she was the last one off. Azam offered her his hand, and she took it, her legs feeling quite wobbly from the journey.
As she stepped down, she stumbled, but Azam’s hands caught her easily. ‘Steady,’ he said.
They had stopped in front of a tavern. Sonya stretched her back, relishing the sunlight on her face and the feel of fresh air in her lungs.
‘Would you like anything to eat or drink?’ Azam asked, but she declined the offer, and fifteen minutes later, they got back on the carriage.
The older ladies had left, and in their place, two new men had got on. The carriage set off once more.
Azam inched protectively closer to Sonya, even though the carriage was already tight. She looked up at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
Feeling sleepy again, Sonya dozed off. When she woke some time later, her head was resting on Azam’s shoulder, and her shawl was draped across her body.
‘Sorry,’ she said, lifting her head.
‘Don’t be,’ Azam replied. ‘And you were cold so I—’
‘Thank you. You should get some sleep, too.’
Azam glanced around the carriage. ‘No, I’m okay,’ he replied. The other men seemed to be minding their own business, but Azam seemed tense. It made her insides feel all gooey, as if she was his to protect.
Sonya opened her bag and took out the food she had packed: bread and cheese and nuts. They split it, nibbling and chatting a little bit. Eventually, they arrived at the next stop, getting off again for a break. Her legs were a bit sore then, and she relished stretching them.
‘Would you like anything?’ Azam asked, gesturing to the tavern.
‘A cup of tea would be nice,’ she replied.
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ he said. He went into the tavern while she stayed out in the sun, warming her skin. A minute or so later, someone exited the tavern: a young man, around their age. She didn’t recognize him from the carriage, so he was likely a local.
When he saw Sonya, he stopped in his tracks. Her heartbeat quickened immediately with fear. Did he recognize her?
She turned away slightly, but then he approached her. ‘Aren’t you a pretty thing?’ he said, smiling widely. ‘What are you doing out here all alone?’
She bristled, glancing over her shoulder, but Azam was still inside. At least the man didn’t seem to recognize her after all.
‘I’m not alone, thank you,’ she said, with a tight smile. He pretended not to hear.
‘I’m Jack,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere for a bite to eat? You look hungry.’
‘Um—’ She wondered how to politely decline.
Luckily, she didn’t have to. She felt an arm around her shoulder, a warm presence beside her. She inhaled the comforting scent of strong tea, and any tension she felt melted away like ice in the summer.
