Welcome to the novel: "When the Child Fell Silent."
This story carries within it honest emotions, tender sorrow, and the beginning of a love unlike any other.
If the story touches your heart... don't forget to like, comment, or share your thoughts.
By: Hiba 🕊️
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In a quiet village far from the noise of the cities—
where silence has a voice, and calm has weight—
lived Rayhana.
A seventeen-year-old girl whose features whispered untold dreams,
whose brown eyes held a silence no one could understand.
Her skin, the soft color of rain-kissed earth.
The only child of her parents.
A girl who never asked for much from life—
but life... decided to test her.
The village wasn't small in size, but in mindset.
At every gathering, her mother Salima would be asked:
> "Has Rayhana been engaged yet?"
"Aren't you afraid she'll be left behind?"
Rayhana wasn't beautiful by their standards—
but she was different.
And we know… society rarely forgives those who are different.
Her father, Ahmed, was a farmer worn by the seasons.
He worked with his hands and fed his family from the land.
But life grew harsher—
he lost his fields and sank into debt deeper than sunburn.
And one day… he collapsed at the door.
His legs wouldn't hold him.
At the hospital, the truth came out:
heart failure.
A heart that could no longer bear the weight of losses and labor.
From that day, for an entire year,
Rayhana and her mother walked a hard road to the city.
A dusty, rocky path filled with old buses and tired glances.
But it was the only road to hope.
Then one morning, like any other,
Rayhana felt something strange in her chest.
A quiet shift.
They arrived at the hospital.
They sat on a cold bench, the walls whispering stories of pain.
Beside them sat a woman in her fifties.
European features, elegant even in exhaustion.
She held a child—crying endlessly.
But then, to their surprise, she spoke Arabic:
> "Sorry to bother you… His name is Matteo, my only grandson.
We were supposed to travel today, but he fell sick."
Rayhana looked at the child.
Something stirred inside her.
The crying wasn't noisy… it was aching.
As if calling someone he didn't know.
She reached out her hand—
and the miracle happened.
Matteo… grew silent.
He crawled into her arms and fell asleep as if he'd found home.
Even the grandmother stayed silent, watching.
Then she whispered:
> "It's as if he's known you… in a life before this one."
Rayhana said nothing.
Her hands were holding more than just a child—
they held a secret she couldn't yet name.
---
In a quiet house in a polished neighborhood,
Maria, the grandmother, returned home.
It was clean, organized… but cold.
Everything had a place—except warmth.
Her son, Leandro, greeted her.
Twenty-five, tall, handsome, with stormy gray eyes.
He took Matteo gently, kissed his forehead, and asked:
> "What did the doctor say?"
She answered:
> "Just a cold… nothing serious."
She looked at him longer, then added:
> "But he hadn't stopped crying since yesterday—until today…
when a strange girl held him."
He didn't react much.
Just nodded.
But Maria's voice softened:
> "We were meant to travel today.
But illness changed everything.
Then, at the hospital, we met a girl… and Matteo just… stopped crying.
Like he knew her."
Silence.
Even the house listened.
Matteo fell asleep again, now in his father's arms.
And finally, Maria said—
in a voice not meant to be heard:
> "You know, Leandro…
Sometimes coincidence isn't coincidence.
Sometimes, it's a quiet hand arranging everything… and smiling."
He didn't answer.
But for the first time,
he felt something had shifted.
Something small…
but impossible to ignore.