Chapter Twenty-Two: Shock

The next day, Abboud sat in the courtroom, anxiously awaiting the decision that would determine his future. His eyes watched the judge flipping through the case files, while the rest of the courtroom remained on edge. Inside, he felt a mix of tension and fear, despite all his efforts to calm himself.

Beside him sat the lawyer and Abbas. The lawyer seemed confident, while Abbas squeezed Abboud's hand in an attempt to reassure him. They had come a long way together, and now, everything hinged on the judge's decision.

Judge (in a formal tone): "After reviewing the evidence and hearing the arguments, the court has decided that the defendant, Abboud, must either complete the remainder of his sentence here, after which he will be deported to Syria, or choose immediate deportation to his homeland."

The words struck Abboud like lightning. Time stopped, and he found himself unable to comprehend what had just been said. Deportation to Syria? Returning to the land he had fled in fear of war and destruction? This was not the outcome he had anticipated or hoped for.

Abboud (with a trembling voice, filled with shock): "Syria? How... how can I go back there? I fled from war and death... I can't go back now."

The lawyer, trying to remain calm, was deeply concerned. This decision was not what he had planned for, and he knew Abboud wouldn’t be able to accept returning to Syria.

Lawyer (addressing the judge): "Your Honor, Abboud fled Syria in search of safety. If he is deported now, he will face the same dangers he escaped from. We ask the court to reconsider this decision, as the consequences for his life would be dire."

But the judge stood firm. He looked up from the papers and spoke in a stern tone:

Judge: "Counselor, this decision is based on the law. Syria is his country of origin, and we have the right to deport him there after he serves his sentence. This court is not here to decide political fates or the conditions in any particular country."

Abboud felt as though the ground was collapsing beneath him. He slumped back in his chair, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn’t fathom the idea of being sent back to Syria after everything he had gone through.

He turned to Abbas, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes. It was clear that Abbas was also struggling to come to terms with the decision. Abboud spoke to him in a broken voice:

Abboud (voice full of despair): "Abbas, what should I do? How can I go back?"

Abbas, trying to comfort his friend, couldn’t bring himself to lie. He knew the situation in Syria hadn’t improved much, and returning would be fraught with danger. But he was also carrying a painful secret, one he had kept from Abboud for all this time.

Abbas (with hesitation and deep sadness): "Abboud... before you make any decision, there’s something you need to know. I didn’t want to tell you this now, but... your mother, Abboud... she passed away a long time ago."

Abboud froze in place. He couldn’t process what he had just heard. For a moment, time seemed to stop again. Those words pierced his heart like an arrow.

Abboud (in complete shock): "What? What are you saying?

"

Abbas looked at him, tears welling up in his eyes.

Abbas (in a trembling voice): "She passed away a few months after you were imprisoned. I tried to tell you, but there was no way to contact you. I thought it was best not to burden you with it while you were in prison... but she’s gone, Abboud."

The room fell into silence. Abboud sat there, not knowing how to handle the news. Everything seemed to crumble around him. His mother, the only hope he had held onto in his life, was gone. There was no longer anything waiting for him in Syria. Tears began to stream down his face uncontrollably, as if he had no power to stop them.

Abboud (with a broken voice): "My mother... she’s gone? How? Why didn’t you tell me?"

Abbas felt a deep sense of guilt. There had never been a good way to break this news, but the time had come. All he had wanted was to spare Abboud from further pain, but there was nothing he could say to ease this burden.

Abbas (voice full of pain): "I’m sorry, Abboud... I didn’t want to add to your suffering. But she passed peacefully... and you know how much she loved you."

Abboud broke down in tears, and the silence in the courtroom became suffocating. Everyone present could feel the weight of the moment. There was nothing left for Abboud in Syria now. No hope of returning to his family. The only pillar of strength he had been leaning on in these moments had collapsed.

Judge (in a firm yet understanding tone): "Abboud, you may take time to consider your decision. Either serve the remainder of your sentence here, or choose immediate deportation. The choice is yours."

Abboud sat there, engulfed in despair. He didn’t know what to do. Returning to Syria felt like a death sentence, but staying in prison for another five years was a nightmare in itself. He looked to the lawyer, then to Abbas, searching for an answer.

Abboud (in a low, sorrowful voice): "Syria is no longer a place for me. There's nothing left for me there now. I’ll choose... to stay in prison. I can’t face the present or the past right now."

It was a painful decision, but he felt it was the only one he could make. He had nothing left to lose.

Abboud (to Abbas): "Send my regards to Layla... and tell her I’m sorry."