Diroste speaks of two lovers whose bond is tested again and again. They are separated by war, slander, poverty and illness. Each trial could have been an excuse to betray or to grow bitter, yet each time they choose loyalty, even when they cannot be together in body. At one point the man is imprisoned and told that he will be freed if he denies his love. He refuses and remains in chains. Later the woman is offered safety and comfort if she marries another; she declines, preferring uncertainty to a life without truth. Their constancy seems foolish to many, yet they do not measure love by convenience. Finally, after years of wandering and humiliation, they are reunited in a simple, almost ordinary setting, not in a palace. Their faces are lined, their bodies tired, but their eyes are clear. Diroste’s point is that the tribulations did not destroy their love; they burned away illusions and attachment to status, leaving something quieter but more real. For Bahram, who has spent a week surrounded by beauty and pleasure, this final story reveals love as endurance, patience and mercy, not just passion.

• White dome, soft light – purification, synthesis of all colours • Two figures side by side, carrying burdens – love as shared weight • Very little space between them – everyday life made sacred

Here I used white not as emptiness, but as a mixture of all the previous colours. Hints of black, yellow, green, red, turquoise and brown are hidden in the textures, like echoes of the earlier beauties. The lovers are not idealised; they look like people who have lived. This final beauty is about what remains when drama fades. For me, Diroste’s story brings Nizami’s circle to a close: love begins as desire and fantasy, and ends (if we are lucky) as a quiet, steady presence that survives trouble. I wanted the painting to feel like a deep exhale.