Ashar entered his home. Everything was quiet. The baby was already fast asleep thanks to Ariana’s great care. She sat silently at the rusty table, watching over the child with her gentle, greyish eyes. As Ashar stepped inside, she rose quietly and made her way to the entrance.

  “I’ll pass by Gabriella tomorrow, about an hour before the market opens. There were some hiccups along the way, but the plan was a success. Be sure to thank her for me. She helped a lot—and so did you,” he whispered, nodding at the baby.

  Ariana returned the nod and took her leave, pausing for one last soft glance at the basket before disappearing into the night.

  Ashar took out the exotic ores and hid them near his bed—still within view as he lay down. Sleep came slow. His muscles ached from the strain, and though the adrenaline had worn off, his mind stayed alert. He thought about everything that could have gone wrong. He wasn’t who he used to be. His body had reminded him of that. But as he turned to look at the baby, a small smile crept onto his face.

  It was worth it, if he could keep his word.

  A new day dawned.

  Ashar took things slow. Yesterday’s “exercise” had taken its toll. Ariana had left some porridge for the baby, just in case, and he still had enough credits to get something from the market later. But first came the deal.

  Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the worn drapes. He still had time before meeting Gabriella.

  Maybe some sewing to pass the time, he thought. His trousers were ragged and definitely needed work. He took out the patch kit and began threading needle through fabric. It was calming. Healing, even. He watched the baby play nearby, toying with the same trinket Friederick had given him all that time ago.

  Time passed quicker than expected. Not all the repairs were finished, but it was time to go. He packed the baby and the hidden ore, ready to leave.

  The streets were mostly empty, as expected for this hour. Most people were working or prepping for the day. Slaves were outside the town mining, and guards still patrolled with their usual disinterest. A few were off-duty, returning from escorting mining transports across the wasteland.

  “Did you see it again?” one guard asked.

  “The Guardian? Yeah, no way I’d still be here if that happened.”

  “Right? I heard they shot it up a few times and it’s still kicking.”

  “Not just kicking—it heals. Like some flame bursts out of the wounds, and then it just keeps flying like nothing happened.”

  “C’mon. Has to be a little hurt.”

  “I’m telling you—”

  Their voices trailed off as Ashar turned into the pleasure district.

  The Whispering Night was already alive with movement. Girls swept dust from floors and straightened the worn-down tables in preparation for tonight’s clientele.

  Ashar entered, carefully avoiding their paths. With a baby in tow, it was hard to go unnoticed.

  “Well, Ashar, someone seems to be stealing the spotlight,” Gabriella called from the stairs, grinning.

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  “And someone keeps spreading rumors,” he replied, matching her grin.

  “I’ve got the ore. Everything still as discussed?”

  “Of course. The merchant should be here in a couple of hours—maybe during opening, if the guards hassle him.”

  “Alright. I’ve got errands anyway. I’ll be back later,” he said as he subtly handed her the ore.

  Gabriella took a side door, stashing the goods. Ashar left in an oddly cheerful hurry, prompting a few raised brows from the girls.

  He made his way home through a now busier town. People moved like ants, carrying bundles, talking loudly. He passed Friederick, who still sat unmoved at his doorway, fiddling with tools.

  At home, he planned to resume his sewing, but a sudden wail interrupted the thought. The baby was hungry.

  Thankfully, the porridge remained. Ashar fed him gently, watching him gobble it down with comical urgency. Some porridge dripped down his chin. Ashar cleaned his face and gave a small, quiet laugh. He was getting the hang of this… father thing.

  Now, back to sewing.

  The trousers were finally fixed. He tried them on—slightly more presentable now, slightly less scavenger. Time had flown again. He packed up and returned to Gabriella’s.

  Gabriella was already waiting. “The merchant should be here any second.”

  Ashar took a seat on the second floor, baby in his arms. The colored drapes above caught the child’s attention, and he reached for one playfully. Ashar let him play while watching the floor below.

  Guests trickled in. Perfume and cigar smoke filled the air. Gabriella remained composed, exchanging light words but keeping an eye on the door.

  Then, she raised her head slightly. Someone had arrived.

  The man wore a dusty cloak, but his polished boots and silken sleeves peeked from underneath. Despite the attempt at disguise, Ashar knew the type—corporate, educated, cautious. There were no insignias, but that only confirmed it further.

  Gabriella greeted him warmly, slipping into character. She led him upstairs with a light touch on the arm, tossing Ashar a small wink as they passed. He nodded in return.

  The guards downstairs noticed. They frowned, muttering to each other—someone getting invited to the third floor was rare.

  Ashar ordered an imported beer, the kind guards favored. He waited, the baby curled into his side.

  Eventually, the cloaked merchant came back down. His cloak seemed heavier now, draped oddly—likely hiding the trade. He nodded at the guards on his way out, returning their acknowledgment with polite confusion.

  Shortly after, Gabriella entered Ashar’s booth.

  “It’s done,” she said, smiling.

  “How much?”

  “Given the shares for the girls, myself… and you? That’s 250 credits.”

  Ashar blinked. “That’s… my share?”

  She nodded.

  “That’ll last me a few years,” he said. “I still owe you—if you want more…”

  “I already took a little extra,” she said with a smirk. “Enough to take Ariana along.”

  Ashar’s smile faded. “Take along? You’re leaving?”

  “Not right away. But yes. That merchant’s offering passage off-world. With what I’ve saved, and what we made tonight… I can go. I’m taking Ariana too.”

  He looked away for a moment. They’d built something solid—trust, shared burdens. But he couldn’t blame her.

  “I’ll leave the place in good hands. The girls know what to do,” she added, leaning in. “And you’ll be fine too.”

  He nodded, softly. The baby giggled beside him.

  Night crept onward. Gabriella’s girls returned one by one, some heavier than they’d left. They slipped in through the side door, hiding credits in tucked-away spots. Ashar and Gabriella sat talking—reminiscing, imagining what lay beyond this dusty world.

  Eventually, the baby tired. Ashar took his leave. Outside, hidden beneath the doorstep, were multiple small pouches. His share. He brought them inside, hid them, and put the baby to bed.

  Sleep didn’t come easy. Gabriella’s words lingered.

  A new day.

  Sunlight pierced the drapes. The baby cried softly—hungry again.

  Ashar groaned slightly, but smiled. Market day came early at week’s end. He dressed quickly, scooped up the child, and stepped outside.

  The streets bustled. Lower-class citizens passed, some with children of their own. A boy no older than seven ran after his mother. Ashar watched him go.

  So much had changed since he arrived. He had been planning, hiding, surviving. But now…

  Now, it was time to be a father.

  He looked into the basket, reflecting on the thought. The baby, curious and wide-eyed, looked up at him with a silent laugh, tiny hands reaching upward. Ashar smiled back.

  Adjusting the basket in his arms, he stepped forward. The sun was rising in a gentle orange hue, casting soft light over the rooftops of the town.

  People walked behind him, talking, laughing, carrying bundles of food or tools. He blended into the crowd, all of them moving toward their own destinations.

  Ordinary lives. Ordinary days.

  For now…