"Joy does not befit you."

Those mocking words escaped Zahra's lips, accompanied by a smirk, after Daliah arrived home with her brother, visibly shattered. Her brown eyes were swollen and inflamed, every breath a sob. All she managed to say was, "He divorced me—for her. I did nothing wrong, I obeyed him, did everything he wanted, sometimes at my own expense. He would disappear, and I would forgive him, thinking he was away for work, but he was with her."

She fell silent, tears streaming down silently. In the ensuing weeks, she kept recalling more, each memory growing more painful. When her sister offered to show her pictures of them together on a trip, Daliah weakly asked, "Aren't you on her side? Won't you cut ties with her?"

"What nonsense are you spouting? She's my friend. I won't end up like you, without any friends," her sister replied with a smile, leaning in close. "Joy does not befit you."

Daliah's eyes widened, meeting her sister's gaze defiantly. "It all began right after the marriage, didn't it? He could never resist her charm." Her sister said.

It dawned on her then that this was all orchestrated by her sister. But why? That was the question she asked herself. Zahra had always been the epitome of beauty in their family, always accompanying their mother to women's gatherings, overshadowing her because she was less attractive. They both had black hair, but her sister's was healthier and thicker, while she struggled with thinning ends. Her sister had clearer skin, free from stubborn acne scars that plagued her. Zahra possessed almond-shaped eyes with sky-blue irises, a rarity in their circle, while hers were round, brown, lacking that sparkle. Her grandmother used to console her, saying, "If there's anything to indicate, it's your warm brown eyes."

Zahra left the room, leaving Daliah alone with her escalating pain due to her sister's words. No one checked on her or offered any words of solace. Her unfortunate mother lamented, "Didn't I tell you to preserve your marriage? You were lucky to get married because of your ugliness, and now he left you for another woman. It's impossible for her to be more beautiful than you, you fool."

Her father advised her to be patient, reassuring her that if she was destined for another marriage, it would come without fail. However, her mother exclaimed, "Another marriage? She got divorced just a year after the first one. Everyone will know she's stupid and ugly."

Ironically, stupidity was what she had battled against all her life. She always excelled in school, graduated from college with honors, yet all her mother saw was beauty, which was deeply frustrating. Then, a man proposed to her through her aunt, and everything progressed smoothly and swiftly. Joy engulfed her; there was someone who proposed to her despite her sister's presence. But as she recalled the scene earlier, she remembered her sister insisting on serving the guests, leaving her to sit as the guest of honor. She recalled overhearing her mother and aunt whispering about rushing things, not understanding why until now. She also now understood her mother's rebuke to Zahra when she bluntly said, "Do you want to cut off her fate? I cannot believe it happened; it will come to you even better."

A full year later, she heard that he had been blessed with a son. She remembered how he had avoided her by saying he didn't want children, recalling his distance from her, his time spent abroad, and his sleep when she was awake. She made him special dishes but always apologized for not eating because he was hungry or because there was an issue with the food.

In the end, she began to believe her mother might be right, "people like you are better off living without any attachment, let alone love. That's why we taught you well, so you wouldn't have to beg when we pass away. Perhaps you will never marry. Are you thinking about love?" That was her mother's reply one day in happiness when she heard the love story of her grandfather and grandmother again. "I wish my husband would love me as my grandfather loved my grandmother."

She remembered how tears silently flowed in her room. She recalled the same words her grandmother uttered the first time she heard the story, "I pray to Allah that you marry the best of men, someone who gives you his love and cannot bear to see you sad, someone who stands by you in joy and sorrow."

Daliah wiped her tears, stood up, and shook off her thoughts. She had lived in sadness for a long time for someone who didn't deserve her. She feared there would be no one beside her in old age, seeing their grandchildren together. She feared such a person would not exist in her life. So, she held on to hope for change. Now, after a year and a half of solitude and deep reflection, Daliah emerged with a realization she had forgotten: "What is meant to happen will happen."

And then, the event that changed her life began.

One night, her father entered silently, dragging his feet one after the other. His features, which always appeared older than his age, were downcast. He was a man in his mid-fifties but looked like he was in his seventies, with gray hair advancing faster than her mother's, who was in her fifties.

It was his habit to enter quietly and greet, and although he didn't like to interfere much in household matters and was usually silent, on that night his lips uttered only one calm greeting. Her mother immediately understood and didn't argue with him as usual or chatter on, for she was always the one talking about people's affairs, who got married, who had children. He, on the other hand, had always been silent, and although he pretended to read the newspaper, Daliah always felt that her father listened to her mother's chatter. She seemed to be his only window to the latest news of family life. He was a quiet person, not much of a talker, unable to congratulate this and that until he knew some information from his wife.

Yet she did not stop herself from asking him hesitantly, "What's the matter, Jareer?"

"We have nothing left here, Taaj," he said quietly. "We're moving to the Red Shores."

Her voice was hoarse, mixed with shock, as her eyes fixed on her husband.

"I've put everything into it. We're officially bankrupt."

That was the first time she had heard about the Red Shores after years, a place name she had only heard in her father's stories when they were children. It was dazzling when she was young, and as she grew older, she thought to herself that her father must have been a novelist!

So imagine her astonishment when, in a moment of despair and utmost seriousness, he mentioned the Kingdom of the Red Shores! Doesn't that make it real?

Her mother didn't say "stop joking" or anything of the sort. The two of them were serious in a way that rendered her unable to express herself. They had already started packing clothes and ordered them to do the same. Her mother also donated some furniture and sold the rest, so that only the bags containing their clothes remained in the house. Her father glanced at those clothes and let out a sigh. "Even though you won't need those either."

"Why?" asked Yamen, the youngest son of the couple, who was eighteen years old.

"The clothes of the kingdom are different," Zahra questioned, her tone unconvinced. "Are we going to stay there forever?"

Jareer shook his head, lips curved. "Why not? That's your homeland."

"I'm supposed to start university this year," Yamen added.

"Do you have the money? Don't worry, universities there are free."

There was silence. Her mother lowered two large, heavy suitcases, calling her husband and only son to help. "What's in these two suitcases?" Jareer asked his wife.

"My belongings," she replied.

Daliah didn't bring much with her; her bag was small, handheld, containing essentials, some books, and her notebooks.

An hour later, the carriage arrived to transport them. It resembled a small truck, its windows tinted black as if they were being smuggled. Daliah asked her father with little hesitation and doubt, "Are we being smuggled?"

"Of course. The public shouldn't know," he responded.

Daliah fell silent, finding her father's words illogical. The small truck headed towards one of the deserted docks, surrounded by shipwrecks and their remnants. Amidst the wreckage stood a massive wooden ship with circular windows along its decks.

The ship had a captain dressed in old Arabic attire: a white turban, a blue coat over a white robe, and peculiar shoes. The man looked as if he had stepped out of ancient Arabian tales, which astonished the three children.

"What is he wearing?" Yamen exclaimed in amazement.

"This is what you will wear, my dear son. This is the attire of the Red Shores Kingdom."

...☆☆☆☆☆...

It was a long journey, spanning three months from disbelief at the speed of events until their feet touched reddish-purple sands, with yellow trees and orange shrubs ahead of them.

"Welcome, my children, to the Kingdom of the Red Shores."

Author's Note

It's a fantasy romance story. So there is no need to get angry and insult the characters. Or me..just kidding.

Enjoy! I hope you do!

If there were a description for their situation, it would be as if they were hurled from the real world into a realm of fairy tales. Here, they read about strange creatures, miraculous trees, and humans with extraordinary abilities.

Such was the place, with their first encounter being a collision with a tree adorned with pinkish leaves and bearing peculiar blue fruits of extraordinary shape. They stood before it, staring for a while, until their father spoke up, introducing their family to it, "This is called the Rosy Tree, and its fruits are also called Rosy. They only grow near the Red Shore, acquiring a hue resembling the beach's color. They're as sour as lemons and refreshing in the summer."

It was their first encounter with a fruit near the shore as they awaited their means of transportation. "Is the transportation here strange as well?" Yamen asked his father who patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Everything here exists, transport carriages like cars but powered by water, carriages pulled by horses, and others drawn by faster creatures."

Further away, there was a man who had boarded with them on the ship and made a jump that startled them, as the man leaped a distance impossible for ordinary humans. In reaction to his leap, sand scattered here and there, reaching some of them. Their father explained once again, "He's human, with extraordinary abilities."

"Do you have an ability, Father?" Zahra asked. "Of course, I do. Have you all forgotten? I used to show it to you when you were little."

"And what happened to it now?" Yamen asked him.

"It has faded away. It happens sometimes as you grow older, especially if you don't use it," their father explained.

Daliah recalled something she thought was from her childhood fantasies. Their father used to fly them all and pluck apples from the apple tree planted in their backyard.

"'Flying,' she whispered softly but audibly. Her father smiled, 'Well done! It was flying indeed. You have a good memory, my daughter. You were six years old.'

This wasn't the most astonishing part for her, but rather that her father, for the first time in her life, was speaking uninterrupted, while her mother remained unusually silent, listening intently. Excitement was evident on her father's face, perhaps happy that his children were seeing where he had lived and grown up.

She too was excited to meet the rest of her father's family, whom she knew only through her grandmother, who had been with them until she passed away.

An immense creature-drawn carriage arrived, with skin resembling a turtle but more accurately likened by Yamen to a 'long-necked dinosaur.'

'Is that what you thought?' Zahra asked, astonished by her brother's comparison.

The carriage was spacious and enclosed, with velvet seats in a deep purple hue. Its windows were of a glass type not visible from the inside, hence they mistook it for a closed carriage. They traveled amidst trees they recognized, green-leaved with brown stems.

Thirty minutes through the forests, they enjoyed the views before entering through a gate inscribed with 'Welcome to Red River City.'

Her father's eyes were fixed on the sign, smiling as if reminiscing old memories. She remembered how he had often spoken about Red River City, named for the red river that flowed through it. He seemed so happy when talking about the city; his current joy resembled that when he told stories.

She glanced at her mother, who was calm, her usual demeanor when in an unfamiliar place. But she would be fine; once she got to know her new neighbors, she would return to her old habits.

"Look!" Yamen exclaimed, breaking the momentary silence, his hands pressed against the glass. "It's like we're in an Arabian world fused with 21st-century technology."

Once again, Yamen struck with his description—a world with its own culture yet evolving with its era. Modern buildings with an Arabic touch, modern bridges connecting some of the buildings. Their father commented, "These buildings are specially designed to adapt to the longest seasons here, winter and summer. They transform hot air to cool and cool air to warm, using physics, of course."

Another thirty minutes passed before they emerged from the building areas into the city center and another area clearly residential, with walls surrounding luxurious villas topped with colorful domes.

The carriage finally stopped at the entrance of a villa with a massive brass door that opened automatically before the creature halted. The creature then passed through the gate, leaving everyone but the father amazed.

A garden with brilliantly colored flowers, unseen in their lives, greeted them. They deduced they were flowers from their shape. There were also water basins for birds, and beyond those, unseen yet felt like a forest. "How big is the land?" their amazed mother asked, as they had not yet seen the villa due to the trees.

"A large area, with a farm," the father replied, gently holding her hand.

"When did you buy it?"

"Five years ago."

"Why haven't we lived here before?"

"I didn't want to take you away from your world."

Finally, the villa appeared on the horizon, after five minutes, a villa with three blue-domed cupolas, white walls, and two stories with large windows. In front of it was a fountain.

They got off, their astonishment never leaving them. "Didn't you say we were bankrupt? Is this what bankruptcy means?" Zahra asked, her eyes examining the place.

"My dear, we were bankrupt there, not here. The farm is doing well."

Then he added to his family, who were examining the villa’s eyes

"Welcome to your new home," he finally said as they gazed at the villa.