Chapter 2

My brother was discharged from the hospital, and his friends did the necessary duty by setting up camp in our home to help him catch up on the lectures and practical projects he had missed, so they could all prepare for the midterm exams. I didn't see them, but I could hear their voices because, unlike girls, young men don’t whisper—they don’t care if anyone hears their loud voices.

When I told Ahlam about it, she was overjoyed and insisted on coming to our house to listen to how Faisal spoke among his friends. I didn’t object at all. She is my friend, and he is the man who would become her husband. I trusted both of them and had no doubts about their intentions.

Ahlam arrived with a pure smile on her face, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She sat quietly and insisted we sit in the kitchen because it was close to where they were, allowing her to hear Faisal clearly. The loud session for them was a silent one for us, as she didn’t want to speak, not even in whispers, for fear of missing a word Faisal said. Even when he was silent, she remained quiet, afraid that if she spoke, she might miss the start of his next sentence.

The young men’s conversation was filled with jokes and discussions that began with studies, rolled into football, escalated into politics, and then circled back to academics. Since Hossam was the eldest, he was always the one to steer them back to their studies.

This routine continued until the midterm exams approached, and everyone became busy with their studies. I ran into Faisal several times near the famous copy shop that served most university students who could afford it because their copies were of excellent quality. The encounters didn’t catch my attention, but whenever I saw him, I would tell Ahlam just to see her happy.

The exams ended, and the spring break arrived, bringing with it an early onset of aging in my heart.

Four days into the break, my brother came home with a big smile on his face. He told me that his friend Faisal wanted to marry me and began praising Faisal, talking about how he had put his engineering studies on hold after his father passed away because he was the eldest son. He didn’t want his father’s name and company, which he had worked so hard to build, to go to waste. Faisal had sacrificed his education to keep it running, supported his sisters, helped them get married, and ensured his brother continued his studies. Once things settled, Faisal resumed his studies and chose our country because it offered conditions that allowed him to balance work and study, with his brother’s help.

As he spoke, all I could see was Ahlam in front of me, calling me a traitor. This could never be explained as a coincidence, nor as something I didn’t know about. It would never be seen as anything other than me ensnaring this man in my web and stealing him from my friend.

At that moment, I felt like I was in an Arabic drama, playing the role of the wicked protagonist. What was Faisal thinking? Had he played with my friend’s emotions and, when he wanted to marry, chosen her quiet friend instead?

My brother’s words snapped me out of my thoughts. He told me to think it over, that I would never find someone like Faisal again. Then he left, taking my peace of mind with him. I wasn’t obligated to accept, but a storm of questions would soon overwhelm me, demanding answers about why I would refuse. What could I say? That he was my friend’s beloved? That would cause a scandal. They wouldn’t blame Faisal—they would tear Ahlam apart with their doubts and shred her reputation to pieces, without caring about the damage they caused, simply because she loved him, and that made her a girl of ill repute. And without a doubt, it would affect me too, because guilt by association is inevitable. So, this wouldn’t end peacefully, but I would resist until the last day of my heart’s autumn.

Three days later, I told my brother that I couldn’t accept. Faisal was ten years older than me, and his nationality would take me away from my homeland—a separation I couldn’t bear. I saw the sadness fill my brother’s face as he shouted loudly, calling for our mother to tell her that her daughter had lost her mind and refused Faisal. My mother remained silent, but I knew she wanted to speak to me alone.

Indeed, she convinced my brother to leave, and the moment he was gone, she began a conversation with suspicion clearly settled in her eyes. She started by saying, “I want nothing but the truth,” so I reassured her.

“I know you suspect that I’m involved with someone, but I swear to you, I’m not that kind of girl. If anyone other than Faisal proposes to me, give your approval even before telling me—I’ll accept anyone except Faisal.” I repeated the reasons I had given my brother, adding more about distance and exile, with tears that flowed sincerely despite myself.

My mother reluctantly accepted my decision, but the issue wasn’t over.