Saif al-Sama and Zain sat opposite each other at the same table, waiting for their meal. Saif behaved calmly and naturally, but Zain was strangely absent-minded the entire time. The vision of Yulan and Colton being devoured, their bodies entwined in the earth's roots, was etched into the deepest recesses of his memory. Every second of his life was now consumed by those memories as if they had just happened—and he still hadn't moved past them.
Saif looked at him thoughtfully and said, "I know what happened was horrifying, and you can't forget it. But you must overcome it if you're to achieve your goal. There are sacrifices to be made and harsh decisions to take."
Zain lifted his head and replied, "I know that, but I can't. I've tried to forget, but it's useless. I can't stop thinking about it—I'm talking to you and the scene keeps replaying before my eyes. Why does this happen, for God's sake?"
Saif met his gaze. "It must be hard to move on. I have nothing more to say—there's nothing I can do about it—but I'm certain time will help you forget."
No sooner had he spoken than a young woman in a cooking apron appeared, carrying a wooden tray with three dishes: grilled meat with a vegetable soup, and chicken breast cooked in a herbed broth. She placed them on the table, said, "Enjoy your meal," and left immediately.
Saif picked up his wooden spoon, took the soup bowl, and began to taste it. He glanced at Zain, whose face showed no reaction to the food. Saif teased him, "Aren't you going to eat? It's going to get cold."
Zain responded, "Yes, I will." He reached for the chicken breast in broth and started to eat, but as soon as he put a bite in his mouth he spat everything out and clutched his mouth, struggling to hold back his nausea. "Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom."
Saif was startled by his reaction but ignored it, finishing his meal before heading to his room.
From a distance, Maya—who had been setting down dishes—saw him and immediately followed. Zain dragged his right hand along the wall as he walked slowly, his head bowed. His gait spoke of helplessness and resentment. Maya had wanted to ask how he was doing, but as soon as she saw his burdened posture, she followed quietly and cautiously.
Saif stood before his door and hesitated to open it. Maya tried to hide but found no place to do so—the corridor was long and straight, with only doors, each secured by its own key held by its occupant. If Saif had looked back, he would have seen her, but he did not. He withdrew his room key, entered, and closed the door behind him.
Maya's tension eased only slightly. She pressed her right ear to the door and was shocked by what she heard: Saif was inside, screaming and smashing everything in sight.
"Why is this happening? I'm to blame for everything! I sent them to their deaths. I killed them. If I hadn't ordered them, they would still be alive. I'm a failure who can do nothing but kill his friends!"
Saif was broken. He had bottled up his feelings until they exploded. The food he had just eaten now left him vomiting—he had forced himself to eat only to encourage the others not to neglect their health.
His room had become a chaos of destruction; he had wrecked everything, even the bed he slept on. His pent‑up emotions had detonated like a timed bomb.
Maya, leaning against the door, sank to the floor until she was seated in the corridor, her head resting in her hands, powerless except to mourn him from afar.
Inside, Saif was slumped against the door, arms and legs dangling limply, head tilted, eyes wet and on the verge of tears. He clenched his fists and tightened his posture as if to share Maya's cramped position, but then he heard a faint sob. He looked left and right, glanced down, thinking he might be hallucinating—but the sound wouldn't stop.
Realizing someone was behind the door, he bolted upright and flung it open. Maya, still slumped, hadn't moved.
Saif said, "Were you listening?"
Maya, without shifting, replied, "Yes. I heard everything."
He said, "You must hate me now. I'm sorry."
She answered, "Not at all—but I hate this outburst. Why didn't you tell me what happened? Aren't we spouses?"
Saif looked away. "How could I tell you that I was the one who sent them to their deaths? I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry that I didn't tell you."
Maya asked, "Is that all? Now that I know the truth, aren't you going to give me the details?"
Saif nodded. "We'll talk inside."
Maya stepped into the room and froze at the sight of devastation: every corner was in disarray, with no chair left intact. They sat cross-legged on the floor, facing one another.
Saif's eyes were red as smoldering embers, and Maya's were ringed with tears. Neither spoke of what had happened; instea
d, they plunged directly into the heart of the matter.
Message to My Dear Readers,
I know many of you have been waiting for the new chapter, and perhaps my delay has disappointed some. That's why I'm writing this message with sincerity and gratitude—to apologize and to explain what I'm going through.
The truth is, my current work conditions are very difficult. I have a demanding job that drains my time and energy, and sometimes I barely have a moment to breathe. It may seem simple to some—just a chapter of a thousand words—but writing it takes more than that. It takes emotion, focus, and dedication to offer you something worthy of your time.
I promise I'm not planning to stop. You are the reason I keep going. Your support and encouragement give me strength. All I ask is for a little patience and understanding. I'll do my best to make it up to you soon with a chapter that's truly worth the wait.
Thank you to everyone who has remained loyal to this story. Thank you for believing in me and in what I'm creating.
With appreciation,
Taha Nismo