"But they plan and Allah plans, And Allah is the best of Planners." (Al Quran 8:30)
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There were still a few hours until Midnight, but everything was eerily quiet already. Not a single soul in sight in this freezing cold weather, safe for a black heavy bike parked to a side on the road, next to which a guy sat upon the concrete roadside barrier; donning a black leather jacket over his plain black turtleneck and black pants. His shave was grown and his face appeared sickly pale, causing the dark circles around the hollow of his eyes to appear even more apparent. His eyes looked bloodshot and empty like a botomless pit of doom and hopelessness. His unkept hair kept falling on his forehead, completing his disheveled look.
His vacant gaze flickered away from the lights in the distance and froze on the steel railing. He wasn't even curious, it suddenly came out of nowhere. Yet, such an insignificant action had stirred something within the depth of his souls. He didn't know what. He couldn't put his finger on it. But then again, he didn't really care enough about anything to linger on it for a second longer.
In that moment, as he stood on the edge of Waterdale bridge, with the freezing cold November wind slapping on his face, he decided to play a game with fate.
In one single swoop he had easily climbed up on the railing. He glanced around into the darkness of the moonlit night and the depth of the ocean, almost 50 ft below—A fall one would be able to survive, if not for the frozen water.
A scoff escaped his lips as the thought crossed his mind, how he didn't fear the height at all. Or more rightly put, death.
Almost unconsciously, his challenging gaze had turned skywards towards the dark starless night. And once again an almost mocking scoff escaped his lips. This time coupled together with a short chuckle.
"Are you trying to die?"
Out of nowhere, a girl's voice suddenly crashed against his ears, breaking him out of his slumber and causing his heart to skip a beat. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he had failed to notice another person's presence nearby.
'Since when was she here?' He wondered to himself but didn't say it out loud. Instead, turned his gaze towards the person in question.
He found himself looking back at a hijabi girl in her long black coat. Her kohled eyes were widened; matching the distraught look of horror on her face. Her parted lips were chapped dry from dehydration and cold—and she looked ready to scream.
"Are you?" She asked nervously again with traces of worry and panic apparent in her voice.
He gaped at her momentarily with a blank expression of uncertainty. His mouth opened and he almost began to clear her misunderstanding, but then as quickly dropped the idea for no reason. Instead, he pressed his lips together and with a roll of eyes turned away, but didn't leave the railing.
"I am Laila—" She called him out again; unaffected by the fact that he hadn't responded to the first two times she had tried talking to him and probably wanted her gone.
"What is your name?" She almost cried out in a voice laced with desperation, which it seemed she was trying very hard to mask by making a pointless attempt to appear cheerful and smiley. She was trying to put on a brave front. But Eesa could easily sense that she was scared. Scared that he might kill himself—right then and there in front of her eyes.
Just then Eesa felt her take a step closer to him.
With brows knitted in an angry frown, he turned to her with a displeased look; who was watching him with a wide eyed innocent look glazed in her hazel eyes. He realised then, that he had unconsciously noticed her eye colour. Maybe because it was just like someone very dear to him once a long time ago. Hence the memory came to him. Searing his soul like a furnace.
