Chapter 16

It was difficult to hide my sadness from my mother. I avoided her eyes and evaded spending time alone with her. Whenever we were together, I would often immerse myself in reviewing my graduation project or cleaning the house—anything to avoid sitting down for one of our cherished conversations. This added to my sorrow, which only seemed to lift when I sought solace in prayer, seeking forgiveness, and reading the Quran.

Despite my efforts, my mother eventually cornered me for a private conversation, one I knew from the outset would be pivotal. She began by reminiscing about her memories with her own mother, how my grandmother, despite her wisdom, was tough on her daughters—particularly on my mother. It wasn’t harshness in the usual sense, but rather the strictness of a loving mother who had grown up believing that raising a daughter was a much harder task than raising a son. My grandmother’s sternness was out of necessity, my mother explained, and she shared stories of how strict she had been when my father proposed to her, until she finally arrived at the point—the story of her relationship with my father during their engagement, and how they had their share of problems, despite being from the same area. These issues, she said, had ultimately helped them in their married life.

Somehow, the conversation shifted to my childhood, how my mother struggled with my schooling, and how much she had endured while teaching me to read and write. She told me that one of the reading lessons she had taught me had actually been the reason for reconciliation between her and my aunt, who was several years younger than her.

I asked how that had happened.

My mother explained, "Do you remember the lesson about the quarrel between the sons of the fourth caliph, Ali ibn Abi Talib (may God be pleased with him)—Al-Hasan and Al-Husayn (may God be pleased with them both)?"

I vaguely remembered it, mostly that it was about a disagreement between the two brothers, where one of them reached out to the other, asking for reconciliation to earn the reward of maintaining family ties and forgiveness.

My mother said that this story encouraged her to visit my aunt and make peace with her.

She then remarked, "I don’t know why we don’t take the Prophet’s companions and their children, and especially our Prophet, as role models to improve our character. Surely, it’s the devil that keeps us from following this pure path. If we could just set aside selfishness and seek reconciliation for the sake of earning God’s favor, there would be no grudges left, and our hearts would be at peace. May God guide us."

With that, my mother left the room. I realized she hadn’t wanted to interfere directly in my problems with Faisal, but she also didn’t want to remain a mere bystander. She had given me a solution, placing me in a deep internal struggle between my pride, which Faisal had wounded by not answering my calls and ignoring my pleading messages, and my realization that I was in the wrong and my desire to make amends.

I sat there, the conflict within me growing, as my mother went to prepare dinner. For the first time, she didn’t ask for my help, giving me the space to think. But this wasn’t what I needed; I wanted someone to think for me, to solve my problems, because I didn’t have the strength to face them. I didn’t know how I would calm Faisal’s anger when I was the one who had wronged him. I had always been the one to criticize his temper and lack of understanding, but now, I was in his place, and I had to apologize and explain.

I went to the rooftop despite the cold, lifting my head to the sky to seek refuge in the One who is always there for those who have no other refuge. I prayed sincerely, "Oh God, don’t leave me to my own devices, even for the blink of an eye, and guide me to the right path."

I stayed there for a long time until the cold seeped into my bones, forcing me to retreat indoors, where the cold in my heart and the lingering confusion had only slightly subsided. I wished I could find a flower to play the game of “he loves me, he loves me not,” but I couldn’t even decide what the right course of action was. I entrusted the matter to God and went to have dinner with my family, hoping that my siblings' and mother’s conversations would temporarily distract me from my responsibilities.

The day ended like any other. I went to bed, trying to sleep, but sleep eluded me. Should I call Faisal? How could I, when he wasn’t answering my calls? Should I send him a message? But what’s the point if it wouldn’t reach his heart?

Finally, I came up with a solution. I quickly got out of bed and headed to Hassam’s room, moving swiftly so I wouldn’t have time to second-guess myself. I knocked on his door, and he said, "Come in."

I entered and found him, as usual, surrounded by his maps. I told him, "Hassam, I need to borrow your phone to call Faisal because my phone…"

He cut me off, saying, "I don’t know when you’ll stop making excuses. Take the phone, and may God help you with the bill at the end of the month." He gave me a sideways look that silenced and embarrassed me. I took the phone and thanked him as I left.

Sometimes, I wonder why my relationship with Hassam has become so awkward since I got engaged. But I won’t bore you with my thoughts on Hassam, because I’m sure you’re eager to know what happened during my call with Faisal.

Before I called Faisal, I don’t know why, but I felt curious to see if he and Hassam had been in contact. So, I checked the call history and found that they had been in touch every day, with outgoing, incoming, and missed calls.

I thanked God that their relationship hadn’t been affected by my issues with Faisal. Then I realized how foolish I had been to think that Faisal would dwell on the same things I did. In that moment, Faisal seemed even bigger in my eyes because he had kept our problems private, not involving Hassam in them.

I pressed the call button, and after two rings, I heard Faisal’s voice. He was saying, "You annoying guy, I don’t know how you managed to graduate from engineering. If the professors had heard your questions, they would never have given you a degree." He laughed and then said, "Go ahead, ask your question."

I said, "Peace be upon you."

The line went silent. The silence was so heavy that I thought the call had dropped. I repeated the greeting, adding, "Hello? Peace be upon you."

Finally, he replied, "And peace be upon you." Then he added, "It’s obligatory to return a greeting."

What did that mean? I took it to mean he didn’t really want to talk to me but felt obligated to respond out of politeness. I ignored the hint, despite how much it stung, because I had taken the first step, and I had to see it through.

I asked, "Faisal, do you have a few minutes to talk?"

He replied, "You want a few minutes? You’ve had days with me and still failed to understand me. I’ve always been a source of doubt in your mind. Let’s keep our relationship calm until our wedding. Then, when we’re married, life will force us to understand each other better. Maybe then you’ll have more faith in me as the person you’re meant to spend your life with."

I didn’t know whether to be happy that he was still talking about our future together or to be sad that he was distancing himself now. I didn’t even know how to respond. The silence between us was suffocating until he finally broke it by asking, "Is there anything else you wanted?"

His tone made it clear that he wanted to end the call. Summoning the courage I had gained from the sadness in my heart, which told me I had nothing more to lose and everything to gain, I told him, "Faisal, if our next meeting is to be at our wedding, then so be it. But let me explain why I was upset."

He cut me off sharply, saying, "Oh, so you’re angry because of the joke I made about my cousin? You were so angry that you didn’t care where you were or who you were with when you exploded. You didn’t care that you were with your husband, on a public street, turning me into a spectacle for everyone to see. You were so wrapped up in your anger that you didn’t realize how many cars pulled up beside us, with people inside looking at the woman scolding the ‘doormat’ sitting next to her. They were expecting me to slap you across the face to complete the scene. But instead, I chose to be a ‘doormat’ in their eyes, a man in my own, and not put you in that position, even though you were wrong. I chose to walk away, just as I have many times before, to let things calm down. And now, after you’ve expressed your anger, you come to tell me the real reason? Your excuse is worse than your offense. If this continues after we’re married, I won’t be so forgiving."

His words left me reeling, but I realized that since things had come to this, I couldn’t back down. I decided to get straight to the point.

I asked him directly, "Faisal, did you attend Ahlem’s engagement?"

Silence filled the line again, and the sound of static made it feel like a scene from a horror movie. Finally, Faisal broke the silence with a single word that reignited my anger: "Hang up."

I replied defiantly, "No, I won’t. And stop asking me to hang up every time the conversation gets tough."

He responded angrily, "What do you want me to say? Should I tell you something that will only upset you more? Is this how you repay me for trying to spare you the discomfort of knowing?"

He continued, his voice rising, "Think back to that day I came to your house and found you surrounded by papers for your graduation project. That was the day of Ahlem’s engagement. I came to take you out, thinking she had invited you and that you hadn’t mentioned it to avoid upsetting me because the party was mixed, and you preferred not to attend. How naive my thoughts were.

"I tried to bring up several topics that day, including your opinion on mixed gatherings. Do you remember telling me you didn’t favor them? I told you sometimes we have to attend, dressed modestly, to support someone we care about. But you gave no indication that you knew anything about Ahlem’s party, so I decided not to bother you and went alone. And after that, I bore the brunt of your anger for something that had nothing to do with me.

"I would have blamed myself if our friendship with Ahlem had deteriorated because of something I did, but I know I acted with integrity. She and her delusions can go wherever they please, but what matters to me is you and your thoughts.

"How much longer will Ahlem stand between us? Do you think she’s worth ruining our outing, making your heart burn with anger? You weren’t upset because I attended her engagement without telling you—you were angry because she ignored you, ignored your friendship, and you didn’t know how to handle it, so you took it out on me. Why didn’t you get mad when I attended a college friend’s wedding without telling you? What’s the difference?"

I interrupted sharply, "There’s a difference. This is Ahlem. You know what she means to me."

He replied, equally sharply, "To me, she’s just the daughter of a man I do business with, someone I need to keep in good standing. To you, she’s a friend who didn’t respect a five-year friendship and judged you unfairly. She never reconsidered her stance. Should I spend my life defending myself over something that doesn’t involve me?"

"Please, let’s focus on us, our future, our happiness, and don’t let your thoughts become a burden on your nerves."

I was silent, listening to him, feeling proud that I was engaged to someone like him. The word "sorry" slipped out, accompanied by uncontrollable sobs.

His calm voice came through the line, saying, "Please, Manal, don’t make this harder for me. Stop crying. Don’t make me feel helpless because of the distance between us."

For his sake, I wiped away my tears and told him, "Believe me, I’m at peace now," and I meant it. I added, "Should I hang up? Hassam will kill me if he finds out."

Faisal laughed and said, "Your brother is so stingy."

I replied, "Please, not Hassam."

He teased, "So Faisal is fine, but Hassam isn’t?"

I responded, "Each person has their own special place."

He replied, "And I want to know exactly what my place is, in excruciating detail."

I laughed and said, "Faisal, please."

With that, he said, "Goodbye, take care of yourself."

I replied, "You too, take care."

And with that, the issue I had feared would never be resolved finally came to an end.

As for Hassam, he continued to tease me, telling me about his friend who wanted to surprise his wife, who had just given birth and was staying with her parents during her recovery period. He wanted to redecorate their apartment, changing the furniture and colors, but needed a woman’s touch. Every time he brought it up, he would say, "Imagine the house is yours, and don’t just give your opinion for the sake of it."

At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to Hassam’s hints because I was too drained emotionally to care about the details around me. All my energy was spent battling the conflict within me.

We spend days fearing confrontation, not knowing why we fear it. But when it finally happens, we realize that we wasted days of our lives worrying for no reason.