The farm breathed a different kind of air now. Something soft and new had settled between Farah and Nael—unspoken but undeniable. They moved around each other like magnets finally at rest, their rhythms synchronized without effort.
Nael began restoring the old greenhouse with Jiddo Omar. "You want to grow orchids here?" Farah had teased one afternoon.
"No," he said. "I want to grow something that stays."
Farah blinked, cheeks flushed. She turned away, pretending to inspect a cracked pot, but her heart didn't stop fluttering for hours.
---
One evening, while Nana Salma made rosewater syrup, she pulled Farah aside with a knowing smile.
"He loves you, you know."
Farah sighed. "He hasn't said it."
"He doesn't need to."
"But what if he leaves? What if this is just... the pause before his next story?"
Nana shook her head. "Child, some people wander because they're searching. Others because they're running. He's done running."
Farah hesitated. "And if he asks me to go with him?"
Nana's eyes sparkled. "Then go. Or ask him to stay. Love isn't about the where, it's about the who."
---
The next morning, Nael surprised Farah with a freshly built wooden sign near the front gate. He brushed the dust off and stepped back.
It read: "Wander & Root: Farmstead."
Farah blinked. "What is this?"
"I've been thinking," he said. "About what it would mean to stay. But not give up who I am. To build something new. With you."
She stared at the sign, then at him.
"You're serious?"
He nodded. "I want this. Not just for a season. For real."
Farah stepped forward, brushing her fingers along the carved letters.
"You're not asking me to change for you?"
"No," Nael said, taking her hand. "I'm asking if we can grow something together. You keep me grounded. I'll keep you dreaming."
Farah's eyes welled. "Wander and Root."
"Exactly."
---
And for the first time, it didn't feel like a compromise.
It felt like a beginning.