As Palwasha entered the ancient streets of Shiraz, she parked her bike near an old marketplace. There, a young man named Arif was washing his bike—his long hair, strong build, and radiant smile catching her attention.
"Where’d you get this bike?" Arif asked, stepping closer.
"From Afghanistan. But I need a place to stay for the night—on one condition," Palwasha replied firmly.
"What condition?"
"I want a free room, and you'll get a free roommate. But remember, it’s just for one night. Keep your distance because I’m leaving in the morning."
Arif smiled, "Deal. But in return, you’ll have to let me show you around Shiraz."
Arif took her to the city's famous landmarks. They marveled at the colorful lights of Nasir al-Mulk Mosque, felt the poetic depth at Hafez's tomb, and shared heartfelt conversations in the serene ambiance of Eram Garden.
That night, Arif invited Palwasha to his room. "This candle is for you, Palwasha. A light for your journey."
Palwasha smiled, "Let’s see how long this light lasts."
Their moments of closeness were charged with emotions. Holding her in his arms, Arif said, "Your free spirit can’t be tamed by anyone."
"But capturing this moment might be worthwhile," Palwasha whispered.
At dawn, as she prepared to leave, Arif hugged her and kissed her.
"Heading to Tehran? I have a friend, Mehdi, who’d be a great host."
"Will he be like you?" Palwasha teased.
"Maybe even better," Arif laughed.
In the bustling streets of Tehran, Palwasha met Mehdi, a painter who captured Iran’s landscapes on his bike.
"Arif said you’re special."
"And I told him I travel on special conditions," Palwasha replied with a smirk.
"Same condition?" Mehdi chuckled.
"Exactly. One night, free room, free roommate. But first, show me Tehran."
Mehdi guided her through the city’s beauty. They admired Golestan Palace, viewed the cityscape near Milad Tower, and discussed Iranian culture while dining in the hills of Darband.
That night, Mehdi brought her to his studio and said, "These walls tell my stories, but tonight, I want to paint yours."
"Then let tonight be filled with colors," Palwasha replied.
Their closeness was vibrant and intense. Holding her tightly, Mehdi said, "Your eyes reflect dreams of freedom."
"And your touch makes those dreams feel real," Palwasha whispered.
At dawn, Mehdi kissed her goodbye, saying, "Heading to Tabriz? Meet Reza; he’ll be your guide, but the condition will be the same."
Palwasha laughed, "It seems everyone in Iran has the same wish."
In the chilly winds of Tabriz, Palwasha's bike roared once again. Reza, a musician and Mehdi’s friend, greeted her warmly.
"So, you’re the one Mehdi told me about?" Reza asked with a cheerful grin.
"And you’re the one who’s supposed to be my free guide?"
"With a condition," Reza replied, laughing.
"One night, one room, one memory. Keep your distance because it all ends in the morning," Palwasha reiterated.
Reza showed her the best of Tabriz—visiting the Mausoleum of Poets, spending time near the lake at El Goli Park, and losing themselves in the alleys of Tabriz Bazaar.
At night, Reza played his guitar in his room, singing, "This song is for you, Palwasha."
Palwasha teased, "How many women have you written songs for?"
"For someone like you? The first," Reza smiled.
Their night was filled with unbridled passion, the intensity of which left both breathless.
As she left in the morning, Reza hugged her and kissed her cheek.
"Heading to Azerbaijan?"
"Yes, a new world awaits me," Palwasha said with a smile.
Palwasha bid farewell to Iran. Her bike now headed toward Azerbaijan, ready for new people, new stories, and a new chapter in her journey.