The old man said:
"Listen carefully, my son."
Abdullah focused, looking at the old man attentively. He didn't really understand why the man wanted to share a story with him, but since there was still some time before getting off the bus, he figured: why not?
Suddenly, he began to hear the sound of his own heartbeat. It was beating normally, but he didn't know why he suddenly became aware of it. Still, he ignored it and focused on the old man.
As the man began to speak, Abdullah's heartbeat accelerated — steadily, but in a way that made time feel slower. It was as if the whole world had narrowed down to the old man's voice and his own heartbeat.
Yet Abdullah insisted on focusing, listening carefully.
The old man had no idea what was happening to the young man next to him. He continued his story:
"When I was young, the world was changing fast. The internet had become part of our lives, mobile phones were everywhere, global brands, trends, and short videos were spreading like wildfire.
I didn't care about studying. I spent hours playing games with my friends or scrolling through social media and short video apps.
My parents, raised in an older generation, couldn't understand me or keep up with the pace of change. Over time, I drifted away from them — though all they wanted was for me to spend time with them. I didn't value that, too busy enjoying my own world.
They loved me deeply and kept trying.
Regret showed clearly on the man's face, and his voice trembled with emotion as he continued:
"I grew up, but I never studied properly, and I didn't use the internet to develop myself. I felt jealous of the influencers — the guys who posted pictures and gained followers. I wanted to be like them… but I failed miserably."
He smiled — as if that failure turned out to be a blessing, not a curse — and said:
"I didn't get high grades. I didn't make it to a good university. I wasted my childhood and teenage years chasing things that gave me nothing. When I turned twenty, I hadn't improved. I was still mentally stuck in adolescence, as if my mind refused to grow up.
Then came a moment — a moment where I felt utterly bored with everything. I looked around and saw that my mother and father were aging. So I decided to sit with them for a little while each day, even though it was boring to me.
But when I saw how happy they were, just because I was sitting with them… I didn't get it. Why were they happy, when I hadn't done anything to make them proud? I didn't enter a great college. I was a failure in my own eyes.
Still… they loved me.
I started going to pray with my father five times a day — even Al-Fajr prayer. He'd wake me, and we'd walk together through the quiet night while the world slept. We'd joke, pray, and return.
I grew closer to Allah.
And in that time… my mind began to grow. I began to understand. Then I regretted… then I accepted.
I didn't spend as much time on social media anymore — maybe an hour a day. The rest of my time, I worked in a restaurant.
I noticed something else — the influencers I once envied started to fall into depression. But I didn't care anymore. I had Allah, and I had my family.
Then I realized something strange...
This generation and all this technology? It wasn't made for men. Social media, AI — all of it seemed easier for women. Because it didn't require hard effort, it suited them more. As for us men — the simple and easy became harder.
But I accepted it. I grew older. I graduated. I left the restaurant job. I searched for work but found nothing.
Then my father — the same man who used to beat me as a child — had become my friend. He called an old friend and found me a job as a security guard in a museum.
Later, my mother told me she found me a wife. I was poor and didn't have much money, but my parents and siblings helped me. I got married to a righteous woman, Alhamdulillah.
She wasn't as beautiful as the girls I once dreamed of… but love is strange.
She entered my heart and built a kingdom there — one only she could rule.
We lived together through hard times and beautiful ones. And she made my heart flourish with her presence.
Then I became a father. And when I saw my child, I finally understood why my parents only wanted to spend time with me.
I had been their treasure.
My children grew, and now it was work — not phones — that stole my time. The years went by.
One day, I looked around again — and found that my parents were gone.
They had left me… but they left behind their love, my wife, my children, and my siblings.
My wife grew older. So did I. But that never diminished my love for her.
Then one day, she asked me:
'Do you love me?'
I was surprised. I remembered that we hadn't married out of love. It had been a traditional arrangement. She was my neighbor, and we married quickly.
I had never told her that I loved her — even though my heart had always belonged to her.
Then she told me that she had loved me since we were young. She used to pray to Allah to make me her husband. She cried when she learned that I had dreamed of girls like the ones on social media.
But she never gave up. She kept praying… and Allah answered her prayers.
She told me that she became the happiest girl in the world.
When I heard that… I felt like a young man again, living a light, pure love story.
Since that day… whenever I look into her eyes, all my weariness fades.
The years passed…
One day, while working in the museum, I saw a strange light. Ever since the pyramid explosion, the world had changed. I thought it was a ghost.
I ran. I wasn't scared of the ghost itself — I was afraid it would go to my wife, my children, my grandchildren, my siblings, and their kids.
I thought: If it appeared to me… it might appear to them.
So I decided… I would sacrifice myself to protect them.
I didn't go back to work. I stayed home to check on my wife.
Days passed. Then the museum management came to ask why I hadn't shown up.
There had been thefts in the museum — corruption — and they suspected me. But my reputation was clean.
I told them what I saw — a ghost.
They thought I had gone senile.
But the museum director believed me. He reported it.
I don't know what they found… but they called me in. I met the most important people in Egypt. They honored me. I didn't even know why.
They gave me a reward. But I told them I didn't want money. I only wanted one thing:
To take my wife for Hajj and Umrah.
They agreed. And they gave me money, too.
And now… here I am, in front of you. I'm 66 years old.
I told you my whole life — sixty-six years, moment by moment.
But for you… it's just words. Just a chapter.
My whole life… became a chapter in your story.
Isn't that what the world is?
We never know if we're a chapter, a hundred chapters… or just a line.
Everyone has a role.
And every role has someone — someone chosen by Allah to fulfill it.
…
Suddenly, Abdullah gripped the old man's hand with strange urgency. The old man looked into his eyes and saw…
Abdullah was in pain. His face was red. His eyes tired. His breathing heavy.
With a faint voice, he said:
"Call an ambulance…"
And with his other hand… he held his heart, trembling in agony.
---
Next Stop: The Awakening of the Hero
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"Yo, I really hope you liked the chapter!
What do you think about the old man's story? Y'all remember who he is?
And drop your predictions—what's gonna go down in the next chapter? I wanna hear your theories!