Niha Temple Mystery | سر معبد نيحا
"She studies the Roman temples at Niha that tourists forget. He's the astroarchaeologist who believes they align with stars. Between columns and constellations, they align too. 'Inti el najme el dalil' (أنتِ النجمة الدليل)."
Niha Temple Mystery
سر معبد نيحا
Niha holds forgotten gods.
Two Roman temples that tourists skip for Baalbek. I've studied them for fifteen years, alone with their mysteries.
Then the star-hunter arrives.
I'm Darine.
Fifty, archaeologist, built by years of fieldwork. My body is sturdy; my patience infinite.
Dr. James Fitzgerald believes ancient temples were observatories.
"These temples align with Sirius."
"That's speculation."
"That's measurement." He shows me star charts. "The axis matches exactly."
"Coincidence."
"Fifteen coincidences across Lebanon?"
He's fifty-three.
American astroarchaeologist, controversial in his field. His theories are dismissed; his passion is undeniable.
"Why Niha?"
"Because no one's measured properly. Everyone goes to Baalbek."
"Niha deserves better."
"That's why I came. That's why you're here too."
We work together.
His astronomy, my archaeology. Night measurements, day excavations. The temples reveal themselves differently to two sets of eyes.
"You might be right," I admit.
"I'm definitely right. But I needed you to prove it."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who knows Niha. And because—"
"Because?"
"Because I haven't felt this excited about research in years." He sets down his equipment. "Inti el najme el dalil."
"The guiding star?"
"The only one I want to follow."
The kiss happens at midnight.
The temple axis pointing at Sirius. His mouth on mine is discovery.
"James—"
"I know this complicates the collaboration—"
"Everything worth studying is complicated."
We make love in the temple.
Where priests once worshipped stars. He lays me on survey cloths.
"Mashallah." He breathes. "You're—"
"Large. Dusty. Academic—"
"Celestial. The word is celestial."
He worships me astronomically.
Every curve a constellation. Mouth on my neck, my breasts, lower—
"James—"
"Let me map you. Like these temples."
His tongue between my thighs.
I grip Roman stone, crying out at stars above. Pleasure like discovery.
"Ya Allah—"
"Perfect alignment. We're perfectly aligned."
When he enters me, I feel cosmic.
We move together in the ancient temple—his body and mine, aligned with stars.
"Aktar—"
"Yes—"
The climax is stellar event.
We cry out together—temples and stars witnessing. Then we lie on ancient ground, looking up.
Three years later
Our paper publishes.
"Stellar Alignments at Niha: Evidence for Astronomical Function." Co-authored. Controversial. Correct.
"Worth the collaboration?" I ask.
"Best research partnership I've ever had." He kisses me under Sirius. "In every way."
Alhamdulillah.
For temples that hold secrets.
For astronomers who seek.
For archaeologists who open to new theories.
The End.