The sun slid toward the horizon like a tired traveller, painting the battered landscape in strokes of honey-gold and burnt orange. Shadows stretched long across the broken earth as they climbed back into the truck, its metal frame groaning in protest before settling under their weight. The engine coughed awake, then rumbled steadily, and the three of them began their slow crawl toward nowhere—and everywhere.
Habeel drove with one hand draped lazily over the wheel, elbow hanging out of the open window. The cool wind rushed in, sweeping exhaustion from their skin and carrying the mingled scents of dust, dry earth, and the faint sweetness of wildflowers crushed beneath the trees.
Janneh sat between them—small legs swinging with a rhythm only she understood, cheeks still puffed from the last crumbs of whatever snack she'd devoured. Ababeel shifted toward her, pulling a tiny comb from her pocket, the one she'd salvaged from the pharmacy days ago.
"Come here, little storm-cloud," she murmured.
Janneh leaned into her with a long, theatrical sigh—like a pampered cat settling into its human.
From the rearview mirror, Habeel's eyes squinted in mock betrayal."She likes you combing her hair more than she likes me carrying her for hours. Unbelievable."
Ababeel smirked."Maybe you should be gentler. Your hands are like shovels."
His eyebrows shot up so fast the whole truck seemed to jolt."They are masculine, thank you."
"Shovels," she repeated, deadpan.
Janneh giggled and grabbed Habeel's massive hand, plopping it on her own head as if to say, Here. Try again, o mighty shovel-man.
He tried.
He really did.
But two comb-like swipes later, Janneh squealed and clutched her head like she'd been attacked by a malfunctioning blender.
Ababeel burst into laughter so violently that she had to brace herself on the seat.
"I AM TRYING!" Habeel yelled defensively, ears turning a very healthy shade of embarrassed pink.
"Stick to lifting boulders, friendly giant," she teased.
Janneh melted back into Ababeel's side, eyelids drooping as the comb slid through her hair. Ababeel hummed softly—a drifting tune that seemed older than her memory. The wind caught strands of their hair, scattering them like gold threads in the dying light.
The moment wrapped around them like a warm blanket—unexpectedly soft for a world collapsing around them.
Habeel's voice lowered."You're good with her."
Ababeel looked up, surprised to hear sincerity instead of sarcasm."You are too."
He sniffed, half offended, half flattered. "Yeah. Obviously."
But the blush lingered.
Silence settled between them, filled only by the truck rattling over potholes and Janneh's gentle humming.
When the road stretched flat and empty ahead, Habeel straightened, cleared his throat dramatically, and proclaimed:
"Hold tight. The road is smooth. We are about to go… five kilometres per hour faster."
Ababeel gasped theatrically. "Reckless!"
Janneh squealed as they'd just been launched into space.
Habeel grinned in triumph. "See? She gets it!"
They continued deeper into the fading day, wrapped in a bubble of laughter, wind, and fragile peace.
They found an abandoned clearing just off the cracked road, framed by thorny brush and the rusted skeleton of a fallen billboard—its cheerful advertisement long gone, replaced by shadows and silence. But it was safe. Safe enough.
Habeel parked and switched off the engine, releasing a long exhale as though he'd been holding it since morning. The sky above stretched wide and endless, dark blue bleeding into starlight.
As Ababeel lifted a dozing Janneh into her arms, Habeel called from the back of the truck.
"Do you have a rope?"
She blinked. "A rope?"
"Or a scarf," he added suspiciously quickly.
Ababeel squinted. "Why? Planning to hang yourself because you only ate one bite?"
"What?! No! Just—give it."
Still unconvinced, she handed him the thin rope. He whirled away like a guilty toddler planning a heist.
Ababeel tucked Janneh under a blanket, placing beside her the rabbit plushie Habeel had found and clumsily sewn back together with thick, uneven stitches. Janneh clung to it instantly.
When Ababeel turned again, the rope had vanished. Entirely.
"Habeel."
He was already climbing into the truck bed, flopping dramatically onto his side like a sulking walrus.
"What?" he mumbled into the blanket.
"Where's the rope?"
"Nowhere."
"Where. Is. The rope?"
"Nowhere," he repeated, this time with suspiciously rehearsed innocence.
Ababeel sighed. "You're hungry."
"I am NOT."
"Then why did you tie your stomach?"
Habeel froze like she'd caught him mid-crime."WHAT? I did no such—such—thing!"
She raised a single eyebrow. "Your shirt moved. The knot is literally poking out, Habeel. You tied it so tight your ribs are sending Morse code to the moon."
He groaned and covered his face."Camels have five stomachs. They can go days without food. I am basically a camel."
She snorted. "You? Camel? More like a stubborn cow."
"EXCUSE ME? Do cows lift people? Do cows save—"
"Do cows tie their stomachs when they act brave but are starving?"
The wind itself paused.
Habeel deflated, shoulders slumping."I'm… managing."
Ababeel pushed a small leftover piece of bread toward him."Eat."
"I don't want—"
"You will eat, or I will shove it into your face."
He took it.
Slowly.
With the tragic dignity of a man accepting defeat.
"Hmph."
Ababeel rolled her eyes in victory.
They settled. Janneh fell asleep curled beside her, arms wrapped around her patched rabbit. The night whispered around them—cold, quiet, gentle.
Habeel's stomach made sounds that could only be described as dying whale noises.
He pretended they were not.
Eventually, his breathing steadied.
Ababeel drifted too, her hand resting protectively near Janneh's tiny foot.
For one night—just one—the world felt soft.
Dawn crept in quietly, washing the sky in pale pinks and early gold. Light spilt into the back of the truck, brushing Ababeel's face and nudging her awake.
She reached for Janneh.
Empty.
Her heart jolted.
She reached for the warmth usually radiating from Habeel's corner.
Also empty.
Cold dread slid into her veins.
Blankets tossed aside. The rope is gone. Footprints leading away from the truck, dissolving into the new morning light.
Janneh's rabbit lay abandoned at the very edge of the truck bed, one ear bent, one button eye staring up.
And suddenly—terribly—The quiet felt hostile.Heavy.Wrong.
Something had happened. Something she couldn't yet see.
But she felt it tightening around her chest like a fist.
Habeel and Janneh were gone.
And the world was no longer soft.