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I can’t stop shaking. As we go from standing to bowing, from bowing to prostration, and from prostration to sitting, I am unable to control the trembling. Halfway through, I close my eyes. I haven’t truly gone back to God once during all this time, even after all of my parents’ teachings. However, He has still not forsaken me. He has not left me on my own, even after having every right to do so. I could have gone up in smoke with any of the blasts. Amaan could have succeeded in his attack. Or I could have been out on the street, injured with no shelter.

But the three of us are alive. We’re together. We are able to keep pushing forward through this abyss, and we have a better shelter than most people in the city. Yet, I never thanked Him.

And for that, I am ashamed.

I hear Salman end the prayer. Next, we each make a personal supplication just between us and Him. We can ask for anything. They say that directly after prayer is the best time to ask for any favors and blessings.

I don’t know what Salman and Fatima ask for, but I ask for nothing. I can’t contain the tears anymore. As they roll down my cheeks, I do nothing but thank Him. Looking into my outstretched palms, I barely see anything through my tear-filled eyes. I can hardly even whisper without breaking into sobs. However, as I thank Him, it doesn’t matter. None of it does, except for one thing:

For the first time in a long time, I feel some small measure of true peace.

* * *

It won’t be long until it’s time for us to leave.

The A/C seems to be switching on and off out of its own free will. The droughts grow longer as the day draws on. Maybe Salman was right about this shop soon becoming as desolate as the rest of the city. If that’s the case, then it’s a good thing we won’t be staying here.

It’s been an hour since the prayer ended. I haven’t spoken a word since then. The little bit of solace I felt in my soul is still there. I don’t know what it means, but I take the peace as some kind of a sign that things won’t stay this bleak forever.

The sun is only about an hour and a half from the horizon. The thought of leaving the serenity of this place and going back into the abyss makes my stomach churn a little. I know we don’t have a choice, but I also don’t know if I’ll be able to stand another night filled with the sound of silence. It’s not the exhaustion that scares me. I’m too used to that by now. It’s something else.

Fatima is upstairs, searching for any first aid supplies she can rummage up. I already refilled my food sack a few minutes after the prayer. Before I could offer to go up with her, she ordered Salman and me to relax and rest ourselves for the evening. With the sternness in which she uttered those words, even Salman did not have the audacity to argue with her.

Sitting next to Salman in the second floor’s corridor, I hear her footsteps coming from the third floor. The floors here are just as creaky as anywhere else in the city. With our backs against the wall, Salman’s and my legs are stretched out in front of us. The evening light spills into the hallway from the open doors. It’s visibly waning with every second, but I do my best not to pay attention to it.

Salman’s voice breaks the serenity. “I can’t believe that we found a place like this. Working electricity, running water, supplies—what more could we ask for?”

I nod without saying anything.

“I think it was a good idea,” he continues. “Praying was, I mean.”

Looking over at him, I reply, “Fatima’s ideas always are.”

“She tends to have better ideas than us, but I guess that’s not saying much.”

The two of us laugh.

After a moment of silence falls over us, he lets out a sigh. “I miss it, Zaid.”

I know what he means.

“What I would give to be at the park again.” He closes his eyes, his words filled with a nostalgic longing. “Feel the shade of the old tree as we stand at the lake’s bank. Hear the laughter all around us. See the stones gliding across the water like they’ll go on forever.”

With my eyes shut, I see it all too. The breeze is cool, the park peaceful. Salman’s laughter is triumphant, and Fatima’s green eyes are so caring. It’s as if it was all yesterday. Yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. I keep myself from breaking down as the memories flood in.

“We may see it yet,” I whisper. Opening my eyes, my gaze again meets Salman’s. I slightly smile. “You still owe me a rematch.”

He returns the gesture. “You never could stay down. Always a fighter. It must run in your family.”

As soon as he says those words, I think of Nabeel. I… I miss him. So much.

“Still planning on attending The University of Aleppo after this all ends, Dr. Zaid?” Salman’s lighthearted question brings me back to reality.

I pause before replying, “I don’t even know if it’s still standing.”

“I wouldn’t count anything out. Not after what we’ve seen. Are you ready for tonight?”

“More or less I guess. I feel better now than I did a few hours ago. How’s your leg?”

“I want to say it’s fine. But I guess we’ll know the answer tonight.” He looks over at me with a grin. “Worst case scenario, I’ll have you carry me on your back.”

A light chuckle escapes me.

Salman again falls silent before his voice grows a bit more somber. “I’m sorry, Zaid.”

“Sorry? For what?”

He glances down. “How I’ve been acting since this entire thing began. I know I’ve been hard and distant. I just… just wanted to protect you the way your parents trusted I would.”

Simply hearing him utter those words dissolves all the frustration he’s caused these past few days. In this moment, as his words sink in, I feel closer to him than I ever have. I gently pat him on the shoulder and give it a light squeeze. “I know, Salman.”

He smiles. “Is your hand alright?”

I raise up my bandaged hand. The wrapping has held up perfectly, even with the shower and everything. “I think Fatima was right when she said the cut wasn’t deep. I can move it and use it just fine.”

“Good.” He thinks for a long moment as he looks away, hesitant to say his next words. But when he speaks, his voice holds a tenderness in it, a brotherly love. “Fatima thinks highly of you. She… cares for you.”

“I think we all care for each other.”

Salman’s gaze returns to me. “That’s not what I mean.”

There’s a look in his eyes. I’ve never seen it before. Does… does it mean what I think it does?

“I am glad, Zaid. I’ve always thought of you as a brother—the younger brother I never had. Maybe when this is all over and we get some semblance of our lives back, something will come out of it. I… I hope it does.” He pauses. “You’re an amazing boy, Zaid—an amazing person. You’ve proven it more every day. When I froze and was unable to move as they tried to take Fatima with them, it was your lead that I followed. You gave me the courage to fight back. I never thought it’d be you—the boy who could never do anything right—that I would be following into battle. You’ve become something else, Zaid. I think you’re as brave as Nabeel ever was.”

There’s another brief silence.

“And…” He puts his hand on my shoulder, wearing the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. “I’m glad you’re with me. I’m glad to be at your side, Zaid Kadir, even if this will be the end of all things.”

Chapter 19

No Turning Back

It’s far less than an hour until we leave. I’ve gone searching for any last-minute supplies. One last room, then I’ll go join the others. Opening the door, I enter a desolate bedroom. At first glance, I can’t tell if it was a boy or girl’s room based on the green wallpaper and white bed sheets, but then I see some pictures hanging on the wall. It’s a progression of a girl from birth to young adulthood. She looks to be thirteen in the last picture. My age.