I force a smile. “I’m just lost in my thoughts. How do you feel? Did you rest well?”

“I did,” she says. “It’s good to have some time alone, once in a while.” She smiles, and I wonder if she saw more than she’s letting on.

Arxa drops by later that night and sits a while with his daughter. The celebration winds down. The crowd clears from the garden, until only scattered clusters of guests remain. Their chatter carries crisply over the garden’s numerous pools.

Finally, long past midnight, Mehtap and I climb back into the palanquin to be carried home. Mehtap lies back on a pillow, smiling dreamily. “It’s like being alive again, isn’t it?”

She closes her eyes, and her breathing becomes slow and steady. I lie awake for a while longer, and once we’re out of the city I open the curtains to take in the sights and sounds of the desert.

It was indeed like being alive again, the heady illusion of possibility and hope. My only regret is that such a thing could never last.

After the feast, life continues as normal, though normal has a duller cast to it after the bright colors of the celebration. In some ways, I’m glad to numb myself in the routines of the hospital.

A letter arrives from Leora two days after the festival. It’s a godsend to hear from her now, and I eagerly take the letter to my room. Leora’s steady handwriting easily conjures her rich voice, and I soak in her words.

She’s married now. The wedding took place on a sunny morning, with much of the village in attendance. Alia carried the incense, and Mother and Father gave their blessing. She and Gil have moved into a cottage a short distance away from my family. Leora describes both the festivities and her new home in great detail—the sun shining through the bamboo groves, the goat that wandered into the wedding dancing. I know she’s doing her best to include me, and I am grateful.

I find it fascinating to hear about your mystery patient, she writes. How strange it would be, to be wiped blank. I do see, as a new bride, how much our past can affect who we are. Gil gets terribly moody on rainy days. He lost his younger brother to a flood during a hard rain, and every time the skies darken, the memory comes back to him. It’s hard for me to see him like this, but I suppose life leaves its imprint on all of us, good or bad.