As I sat by myself in a corner of the camp, brooding over my lot in life, I felt the arid desert air suddenly cool around me, even though no wind rustled my robes. I looked up to see the Messenger of God standing above me, the infuriating smile still on his lips.

“Come, let us have a race,” he said, reaching out his hand to me.

I stared up at him in complete surprise, and then I felt my anger evaporating under the warmth of his gaze. In the early days of our marriage, when I was still a girl in body and heart, the Prophet would often play such games with me. He particularly loved to race, as I, with my lightning speed, was the only person who had any chance of beating him.

It was a tender offer, a reminder of days long past when it was just the two of us, before his harem was filled with beautiful women whose charms were an easy match for my own. I took his hand and rose, following the Messenger past the bustling crowds who were taking down tents and untethering the camels for the voyage. I saw Juwayriya standing by her widowed mother, watching us like a hawk, and I smiled beneath my black veil.

My husband led me to a hillock where a lone oleander bush stood in defiance of the wilderness, its pink-and-yellow buds shimmering in the early morning light. I saw him gaze across the landscape until he found a suitable landmark, a cactus tree near a ledge, beyond which was a sharp drop into rocky gorge.

“There,” he said, pointing to our finish line. “Don’t fall over the edge. The angels might not catch you in time!”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he laughed heartily. The Prophet waited with an amused grin as I girded my robes above my ankles to make sure I didn’t trip-there were no men in the immediate vicinity, and he did not object. I then kicked off my sandals and let the coarse sand caress my feet as I used to do when I was a child.

I saw the Messenger’s face change and the teasing look left his eyes, replaced by genuine fondness. I suddenly realized that he, too, missed the days when the world was simple, when it was just a handful of us speaking truth to power. Now we had become the power in the land and nothing was simple anymore.

The Messenger faced straight ahead, bending down in preparation. And then without the customary countdown from three, he simply cried, “Go!”

And the race was on.

I tore past him with the vibrancy of youth, my bare feet flashing beneath me. The hot air smashed against my face, pressing the heavy cloth of my veil against my mouth. I could feel my heart pounding as I pushed every sinew in my legs to the utmost. I could see the cactus growing closer, even as the empty desert appeared to stand still, and for a moment I had the strange thought that I was stationary and the plant was running toward me.

I could see no sign of my husband from the corner of my eye and wondered whether he had even left his position. And then I felt a rush of cold wind to my right, and the Messenger of God thundered past me, his black hair flowing wildly in the wind, the thick curls of his beard shaking from his hearty laughter.

And then he was at the cactus and he turned to face me triumphantly as I arrived a second later. We both dropped to the ground, gasping for breath and laughing with a joy that neither of us had expressed in so many months. The joy of being together, bound by destiny, this great man and this little girl, the most improbable of couples.

He held me close to him and I could feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart. I realized in that moment that no matter how many women entered his bed, I would remain special. I would never replace Khadija, his first love. But I would assuredly be his last. And in the end, what more could any woman ask of a man?

After we had caught our breath, I lowered my skirt and we walked back, hand in hand, to the camp, which was by now almost completely dismantled. My tent had been taken down and I went obligingly to Asiya, my she-camel, while my husband rejoined his men and helped them complete the preparations for the journey.

I sat inside the armored howdah and placed my hand across my heart, feeling the wonderful pangs of love renewed. And then I realized that something was wrong. My onyx necklace, which should have been lying on my bosom, was missing. I quickly searched through the howdah, but the tiny compartment was empty. I gingerly climbed out and looked around the camel, but all I could see was yellow sand and orange pebbles. The distinct black stones would have stood out like a blot on the sun, and yet there was no sign of them.

And then I remembered. I had last felt the necklace on my bosom during the race, the sharp beads pressing against my delicate flesh as I ran toward the cactus. It must have fallen off near the ledge where we reclined after the Messenger had beaten me to the finish.

I cursed the faulty clasp that had always given me trouble and began walking away from the camp in search of my wedding present. The onyx necklace was the first gift the Messenger had given me, and every time I felt it around my neck, I would remember that special night when I became a woman. I treasured it above all of my meager possessions and was not about to let it vanish into the sands for all time because of carelessness.

I climbed over the hillock and soon lost sight of the base camp. My eyes scanned the ground as I carefully retraced my steps, but there was no sign of the necklace. Frustrated, I looked around the base of the cactus, and still the necklace eluded my search. I stubbornly crossed the path again and again, kicking aside stones and overturning an anthill in my quest to find my wedding present. I became increasingly agitated and wondered how I would tell my love that his special gift to me was lost forever.

And then I saw it. Partially buried under a small mound of sand, a black stone winked out at me, its white flecks glittering in the harsh sunlight. I smiled in delight and thanked Allah for helping me find the necklace. I quickly pulled it out of the ground and wiped it clean. I held it close in my palm rather than tie it to my neck and risk having it fall off again. And then I looked up at the sky and realized that the sun was now far above me. I blanched-how long had I spent out here, alone in the wilderness? Had it been hours? I cursed my own foolishness. The Muslims should have been on the road to Medina by now, but my little excursion had delayed the entire army. Scouts were probably searching frantically for me, and the whole camp would be in disarray at my disappearance. My heart racing, I ran back to the hillock and climbed down, practicing a thousand apologies in my head for having held up the entire expedition.

And then I froze as the campground came into sight.

The area was deserted. There was not a single human being or animal left of the entire armed contingent. I stood there in utter shock, my breath caught in my throat. They were gone. The Muslims had broken camp and left without me.

I looked around desperately and called out for help. But there was no sign of any stragglers, and the only answer was the mocking call of my own echo.

My vision blurred as I stood forsaken in the empty wasteland where no man or woman could survive alone for more than a few hours. Tears fell readily from my eyes and I could feel their bitter salt on my tongue. The mad thought crossed my mind that the only water I would ever taste again would be that which flowed from inside me.

I sat down in despair, the necklace falling from my hand and landing on the dry earth that would soon become my grave. I looked in fury at the simple onyx beads whose pursuit would now cost me my life. And then I felt all the color drain from my face.

The necklace had fallen in such a fashion that the beads curled up to form a smile, a cruel, mocking jeer. And then the wind rose and I thought I could hear a terrible, inhuman laughter echoing all about me.