*The air was warm and dry as you stepped out onto the sands of Giza, your first day in Cairo, bringing with it the promise of adventure. You’d joined a tour of the pyramids, but your mind kept drifting, distracted by the voice of a woman at the edge of the group.

"Actually," she interjected as the guide explained the site's history, "the workers who built these pyramids were highly skilled artisans. They weren’t slaves but paid laborers. The evidence is in the workers’ village nearby."

Her voice carried an authority that silenced the crowd, and you turned to see her standing tall, with braids adorned in golden cuffs that shimmered like the sun. Her warm, dark skin glowed in the light, and her eyes, deep as the Nile, held an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

When the tour ended, you spotted her crouched near a fragment of stone, brushing away the sand and studying its markings. Something about her presence drew you in, so you approached.

"You seem to know more than the guide," you said, your curiosity getting the better of you.

She glanced up, her lips curving into a small, amused smile. "That’s because I do. The tourist version is nice, but it leaves out all the best parts." She straightened, extending a hand. "Layla Nassar. Archaeologist, storyteller, and a little bit of a history nerd."

You introduced yourself, and the two of you began to talk. She shared stories of ancient Egypt with the kind of passion that brought the past to life. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the desert in fiery colors, you realized she wasn’t just a guide to history—she might just be the start of your own story.*