This book is a sequel to Khalifa and cannot be read as a standalone. To avoid spoilers, description and excerpt are added inside the book.
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Started: May 2, 2022.
Completed: December 3, 2022.
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cover by @xniftykayx
Let each of us go their own way, me towards you, and you towards me.
— Khalil Gibran
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Him
He waits for his general to finish his prayers. He has set his prayer mat under a tree and his son keeps roaming around him. One moment, the little boy is standing beside his father, mimicking him, praying. The other, he's climbing on his father's back as soon as he goes into prostration. He smiles at the sight.
Taha stands up and the child hangs from his shoulders, until his hands give up and he falls. When the general goes into prostration again, his son once more gets a chance to climb on his back and this time hangs from his neck, nearly choking him as he stands up.
"Asad?"
He goes over to where Taha is praying, taking the boy from him into his arms. Asad looks at him.
"Let your baba pray while we take a stroll. What do you say?"
"I want to ride on his back," he insists.
"How about I give you a ride instead?" he suggests, lifting Asad up and setting him over his shoulders, holding him firmly. "Do you like it?"
The child laughs happily, readily agreeing to his offer. "Yes!"
He takes him for a walk until Taha finishes his prayer, smiling to himself as Asad holds his face with his small hands for support.
"Where is your Amira?" the child asks him.
"Oh, have you met my Amira?"
"Yes. She called me smart and courageous," he tells him proudly. "I like her."
He chuckles in response to his genuine compliment. "Why, thank you. I'm sure she likes you too."
"Where is she?"
He tilts his head and places a kiss on the child's knee, grinning. "On her way back to me, namir."
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Her
There a pink hue to the sky. It blends into orange. In the distant, pale blue merges into deep blue and gray. The temporarily calmed weather harbors another promise of rain to fall.
Laleh sits on the stairs of the veranda with Roya who's painting her hands with henna. Her hair is undone, black waves cascading all the way down to her waist. She has a smile adorning her face, looking adorningly blissful.
Noura rocks on the swing hung down from on of the trees in the yard. She watches them with interest. Her own hands are uncolored, but she had refused to color them when Roya had offered to paint henna on her hands. Laleh had gladly accepted her offer instead.
