After Abu Ahmed finished recounting the story of the past, a heavy silence hung over the deck of the yacht. The sea was unnaturally calm, as if the waves themselves were eavesdropping on what had been said.
Abu Ahmed sighed and said in a tired voice:
"Let's return to Aden."
Um Ahmed raised her head, the restless anxiety of a mother reflecting in her eyes. She turned to Mrs. Sayuri and said with a firm kindness:
"Do you have all your luggage with you, Sayuri?"
Sayuri asked in surprise: "Yes, why?"
Um Ahmed replied: "I suggest you return to Japan to rest. What we are about to face might be difficult… and if we need you, my husband Mohammed will contact Haruki immediately."
Sayuri exchanged glances with her husband, then nodded slowly. The suggestion was passed to Abu Ahmed and Mr. Haruki, and after a few moments of thought, they reluctantly agreed.
Abu Ahmed told his Russian friend: "Come… let's head back to Aden."
The yacht moved slowly, as if bidding the island a reluctant farewell. As the shore receded, Abu Ahmed and Haruki sat alone at the bow.
Haruki asked in a low voice: "Will you be okay, Mohammed?"
Abu Ahmed replied, staring at the horizon: "I am afraid of only one thing… what will happen to Ahmed if the manager's daughter finds out that he is betrothed."
Haruki stopped in his tracks. "The manager's daughter?"
Abu Ahmed sighed, as if a memory had been forced open: "I didn't mention this in front of Fawzia… I don't want to worry her. That girl loved Ahmed with an incredible love."
He paused, then continued: "She used to always say to him in Russian: 'I love you, and when I grow up, I will marry you.' And Ahmed… he didn't understand a single word."
He smiled sadly. "If he saw her now… he would recognize her instantly."
Then he drifted back to that old moment: "After the accident… Ahmed saved her by a miracle. A speeding black car hit them and fled. Ahmed was injured; his soul was half fear and half courage. When she saw his body lying on the ground, covered in wounds and blood, she was terrified beyond description… and from that night, part of her hair turned white."
He closed his eyes. "I used to see them before the accident… Ahmed would take her every day to the supermarket to buy her sweets or snacks, then they would go to a park near the shop… sitting and eating with pure innocence."
He smiled a pained smile. "After the accident… she would bring flowers and sit by his side in the hospital, never leaving him."
He lowered his voice: "She always told him: 'I promise... I will marry you.'"
Then he took a deep breath: "One day, Ahmed asked me: 'Father, translate what she is saying for me… just this once.' He was on his hospital bed. I translated every word for him… he smiled at her and said: 'Tell her thank you… we will meet when I learn English, and she learns it too, so we can understand each other.'"
He looked at Haruki and said: "A week later… we returned to Yemen. The shop is still running to this day."
Haruki shook his head slowly: "A truly complicated situation, Mohammed… how will you solve it?"
Abu Ahmed said with a steadiness that masked deep fear: "I will go to the manager myself. We will talk… and see what happens."
At that moment, the Russian friend called from behind them: "We have arrived."
Everyone disembarked from the yacht. Ahmed's brothers approached anxiously: "What happened to Ahmed?"
Their father answered with a forced calmness: "He went to work… he will be back."
But Misaki, who had been watching their faces in silence, felt that something was not right. Her heart would not rest.
The luggage was loaded into the bus, and then Abu Ahmed drove Mr. Haruki and his family to the airport.
The farewell was silent, heavy, and without many words.
Haruki said as he shook his hand firmly: "We are with you… whenever you need us."
Abu Ahmed replied: "I know… thank you, my friend."
Sayuri came back to say goodbye to Um Ahmed, then Misaki, with tears hanging in her eyes.
The family departed for Japan… and the anxiety remained in Aden.
Abu Ahmed boarded the bus with his sons and said in a voice that brooked no argument:
"We are going home."
The road to Sana'a… was no ordinary road.
It was a road of waiting, of fear, and of questions without answers.