Chapter 22: The Final Chapter

I’m trying to tidy up the place, preparing to welcome my beloved, who is coming home exhausted from work. After a playful wrestling session with little Abdullah, who left a trail of scattered baby clothes behind, I finally managed to put him to sleep with a gentle, loving touch.

Are you surprised? Have you forgotten me, or perhaps you’re confused? Yes, it’s me, Mona, and the little one sleeping is my 4-month-old son, Abdullah. It’s been two years since I married Faisal. In those two years, there has been joy, pain, and anxiety—such is life, with its pleasures and sorrows distributed by the wisdom of a just ruler, the Almighty, who does not wrong His servants, though they may wrong themselves by their impatience.

You might be wondering what happened. The truth is, I never really found out, despite my persistent questioning of Faisal. He always says, "Even if you crafted a statue of gold for your mother, it wouldn’t repay her." I’d agree and press him again to tell me what happened, but he would always evade by teasingly asking, "Whose eyes are more beautiful, mine or your professor’s?" I would blush with embarrassment, and he’d laugh heartily, saying, "You were lucky I didn’t strangle you back then. Thank God that Faisal today isn’t the Faisal of yesterday."

I would respond, fully relying on his love for me, "You were the one who went to great lengths to be with me. I didn’t chase after you. You weren’t forced to do what you did, and you accepted my recklessness." Then I’d lift my head proudly, and he’d say, "Easy with your neck, lifting it too high will give you neck pain, Doctor." Then he’d burst into a beautiful, ringing laugh.

Let me satisfy your curiosity and tell you the part I do know.

The morning after the confrontation, I noticed that my mother didn’t speak to me, but I could see a sense of relief in her expression. The next day, I returned to where I was studying, accompanied by Hussam. Our departure was different this time because my mother left to visit my aunt, using the excuse that she was sick and needed to check on her. But I knew she wanted to avoid saying goodbye.

This situation deeply affected me and had a significant impact on my performance during my exams. It was the first time an emotional issue had interfered with my academic life.

I didn’t meet Faisal, nor did I call him, and he didn’t contact me either. I stayed in the house where I was studying until the results were announced and I received mine. Afterward, Hussam wanted to stay to attend the graduation ceremony because he had promised one of his friends, who had fallen behind by a year, that he would be there for his graduation. As for my graduation ceremony, I didn’t think about it at all—any plans and dreams I had for it were gone with the wind.

I was sitting alone after Hussam had left when I heard the doorbell ring. I ignored it, but the person at the door was persistent. Still, I was more determined not to answer, as I had no energy to entertain anyone. That was until I heard the sound of the inner door being knocked on. Fear gripped me, and I asked in a trembling voice, "Who’s there?" The voice of my dear mother replied, her voice filled with concern, "Mona, are you alright?"

I responded with joy to that voice that revived my spirit, with an indescribable sense of relief that her concern for me restored my confidence in her love for me. "Mom, I’m fine," I answered, as I turned the key in the lock to open the door. I was surprised by her visit, but the bigger surprise was when I saw Faisal standing behind her, a smile on his face. I swear it was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen in my life.

I forgot all about who was smiling and embraced my mother, tears flowing despite myself. Faisal entered the house and went to the guest room, giving me the privacy to let my tears flow freely. My mother hugged me tightly and said, "If I was harsh on you, it was because I only wanted what was best for you. Don’t think that a mother’s harshness comes from hate; it comes from love, with you as the source and destination."

I embraced her and kissed her hands and forehead. Then I collapsed back into her arms, clinging to her, soaking in the love and warmth I had been deprived of. My mother pulled me out of her embrace, cupping my face in her hands, and asked, "Mona, do you trust me?"

"Yes, if you told me to throw myself into the sea, I would, because I know you only want what’s best for me," I replied confidently.

She kissed my forehead and, half-joking, said, "I don’t want you to throw yourself into the sea, but into a sea you know how to swim in and understand well."

I looked at her, puzzled. She continued, "Go to your husband and resolve what happened between you. Don’t be too forgiving, but don’t be too harsh either. Scold him for betraying your trust and meddling in something private that could have involved images of other girls who wouldn’t want a stranger to see them. Make him understand that it was just a joke, that sometimes girls’ jokes can go too far."

She added, "Even though I don’t agree with joking like that, I won’t dictate what you should say. I’m just giving you the main points; the rest is up to you. And most importantly, don’t be stubborn. Let things return to normal. Faisal is a wonderful man—take care of him."

Then she said, "Now go."

I tried to speak, looking at my clothes.

But before I could say anything, she said, "Go as you are, without overthinking it or spending time on your appearance, so he knows that reconciling with him is more important than how you look. Settle things between you, and then go freshen up."

I left after saying, "Pray for me," and she bid me farewell with a smile full of love. I went to my beloved, full of longing for him and still holding some resentment.

I found him looking over one of Hussam’s maps that he had left in the guest room, where he sometimes liked to review his work. I entered and said, "Peace be upon you."

He put down the map and looked at me, saying, "And peace be upon you too."

I sat in one of the armchairs, and the room was filled with a heavy silence. Both of us were quiet. I tried to recall my mother’s advice, but it all seemed to fly away, leaving me with nothing to say.

Eventually, I gathered the courage to speak. "Faisal, do you doubt me and my character?"

I looked at him, but I couldn’t decipher what his eyes were saying. He was staring at me without speaking. After a long pause, he finally said, "Does my being here indicate that I doubt you?"

"Maybe you came here for…" I began, but he cut me off.

"Don’t put words in my mouth based on assumptions. I’m here because I want to be here. What happened was a mistake we both made, and maybe the days of distance and worry we experienced were a divine punishment for me for betraying your trust, and for you for flirting with a stranger in such a way."

My voice burst out, the words flowing freely now that the tension had lifted. "Faisal, I swear it was just a joke, and we all took part in it."

"I know that, despite how awkward it is. Ahlam forced herself to let me hear her part of the recording, even though I didn’t want to, but she insisted." He added, "Mona, this issue was over from the start, but you made it more complicated. I didn’t say a word, but you brought up old and new issues."

I interrupted him, "You were questioning my morals, and I won’t allow that."

He responded, "But your outburst might have made me question your morals even more."

I replied, "The situation was confusing, and I couldn’t stay calm."

Then I added, "Faisal, honestly, I felt so much better after being honest with you about everything concerning Ahlam and telling her what was on my mind. The issue with Ahlam is completely over. The only thing left is Professor Ghadnafar. What no one knows is that Professor Ghadnafar proposed to me in my first year of study through his sister, who was in her final year. I turned him down—not because he was flawed, but because I felt too young at the time, and I had many years of study ahead of me. I wanted to excel without any obstacles or added responsibilities."

More importantly, I didn’t have any special feelings for him—just admiration, no more than my admiration for any celebrity at the time. If I had had any special feelings for him, I wouldn’t have looked at marriage that way, and I wouldn’t have seen it as a barrier to my studies."

I looked at him confidently, and he smiled at me with love. I lowered my head, embarrassed by his gaze. He laughed softly and said, "Do you think I didn’t know about that? You’re lucky I knew about it from a mutual friend of mine and your professor’s, even before I proposed to you. If I hadn’t known, you would have seen a different side of me."

I teased him, "What would that side look like? Show me now, so I recognize it if I ever encounter it, and I don’t mistake you for someone else."

He didn’t answer but stood up, took my hand, and helped me to my feet. He pretended to be angry, though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. "Do you really want to see the other side?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," I insisted.

But all I saw after that was a face full of love, longing, and affection.

Do you know how my mother and Faisal met? It wasn’t by chance as I had thought. Faisal was the one who drove her from our hometown to where I was studying. It was all arranged as a surprise for my graduation party.

We went to the party, where I met Ahlam, her husband, and her parents. Faisal, Hussam, and Omar mingled with Ahlam’s husband and father. As for me and Ahlam, our meeting was cold, and our conversations were formal. True, she had intervened in the situation to help me, but I preferred to keep my distance to avoid falling into the trap of distrust again.

Have I satisfied your curiosity, or do you want to hear about the wedding? I’ll just say it was a beautiful wedding, and I’ll keep the details close to my heart. But I’ll share some discoveries I made about Faisal after the wedding.

The most important thing I realized is that the engagement period isn’t really about getting to know each other; it’s about getting used to each other. You won’t truly know your partner’s character until you’re living together as a married couple.

What did I discover about Faisal? First, he’s extremely jealous, even of his brother, which caused some anxiety in the early days and led to a few problems between us. But our love helped us overcome them. The second thing is that he’s very hot-tempered. When he’s angry, he needs to sleep it off without being disturbed.

The first time I saw Faisal in a fit of rage, I nearly lost my mind. His anger was so intense that he would pull at his clothes, nearly tearing them, as if trying to release his frustration. His hands would move restlessly, and his voice would rise, sounding like the roar of a lion. After venting his anger, he would go to our room, lie down, and fall into a deep sleep. Honestly, the first time I saw him like that, I was so worried. I crept to the bed and placed my hand near his nose to check his breathing because I couldn’t see his chest moving. I sighed in relief when I felt his breath.

I waited for him to wake up, with no specific plan in mind. When he finally did, he was still somewhat irritable. And as usual, whenever Faisal wakes up, I feel an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing because I remember what Hussam once said: "When Faisal wakes up, it’s like there’s a farm of roosters in his head, all crowing at once."

Faisal went to the bathroom, and when he came out, he laid out the prayer rug and prayed, even though it wasn’t time for prayer. That’s another thing I discovered—after a fit of anger, he sleeps, and when he wakes up, he prays before speaking to anyone. After praying, he sat beside me, pulled me close, and said, "I know I scared you, but I hope you can bear with me. If you can’t, then who will?"

I replied, "Faisal, I’m worried about you, not scared of you."

"Believe me, I try to avoid these outbursts as much as possible. Pray for me and drop the subject, please," he said.

I respected his wish and dropped the subject. Faisal hasn’t completely overcome his temper, but he’s still my beloved husband. If I see a flaw in him, my loving eyes see a thousand virtues that cancel it out.

Let me tell you what I’ve discovered about myself. I’ve realized that I’m a first-class chatterbox when I’m with Faisal. As soon as he comes home, I start talking non-stop, telling him everything that happened while he was away, and I want to hear all the details of his day too.

Do you know how Faisal reacts to my chatter? If he’s in a good mood, he listens, jokes with me, and says, "You tricked me. I thought you were quiet, but I’ve discovered you’re a top-class chatterbox.

" I would pretend to be upset just to get some sweet reassurance because Faisal knows how to stroke my ego. But if he’s in a bad mood, he stays silent. After lunch, he goes to sleep, and I sit by his side, nagging him to get up and talk to me. He’ll say, "Mona, for God’s sake, leave me alone. I’m tired and exhausted." If I keep pushing, he takes his pillow and blanket and lies down on the couch in the living room. I’d then go to him, apologize, and ask him to come back, promising not to nag anymore. Then I’d lie down next to him and force myself to sleep.

As for my relationship with Faisal’s family, he has a wonderful mother who has become my second mom, always standing up for me. But one of his sisters liked to meddle in my life—commenting on my clothes, my relationship with Faisal, and even trying to disrupt our private outings. In the early days, I complained to Faisal about her, but I stopped when I realized he was becoming too harsh with her, and I feared it would damage their sibling relationship because of me. So, I decided to stand up to her on my own without involving Faisal.

I got what I wanted—she eventually adjusted to my approach, which required me to maintain a formal tone with her to set boundaries. Once I had established those boundaries, our relationship became more normal, like any relationship between a sister-in-law and her brother’s wife, with a few minor disputes here and there.

You might be wondering why Abdullah is only 4 months old when we’ve been married for two years. That’s because it took a while for me to conceive due to some minor health issues.

 But ultimately, it was God’s will. It was frustrating, though, to face constant questions about why I hadn’t gotten pregnant earlier. Whenever there was a gathering of women, they would bombard me with stories of how their relatives conceived after seeing a certain doctor or using a particular treatment, making me feel as if I were infertile, even though I had only been married for six months.

 I would complain to my mother, but she always reassured me, saying, "Don’t worry, you’re just like your cousins. Most of them got pregnant after a year of marriage." And she was right—by the grace of God, I got pregnant after a year.

Do you know what my problem is today? It’s Faisal’s attachment to Abdullah. He used to call to check on me, but now he calls to ask about every little detail of Abdullah’s day. When I jokingly tell him that he loves his son more than he loves me, he laughs and says, “Isn’t the love for a part just an extension of the love for the whole?”