Chapter 3: The Promised Night
The decision weighed on my chest like a massive boulder. As the day of the journey drew near, my heart thrashed between fear and hope.
I spent sleepless nights counting possibilities: that we might arrive safely, that we might drown at sea, or be caught before we even left. These thoughts haunted me even in my dreams, but every time I came back to the same conclusion: there was no other choice.
Staying meant drowning in another kind of sea—
the sea of unemployment and futility,
the sea of days repeating without meaning.
---
At the Café
One night before the journey, I was sitting in our usual café with Fouad.
The place was crowded, tables crammed together, cigarette smoke filling the air, voices blending in a mixture of laughter and heated arguments.
Across from me, Fouad was turning his coffee cup between his hands before glancing up with a half-sarcastic smile:
> "Youssef, you look like a man who committed a crime and already regrets it."
I didn't answer. My attention was fixed on the table beside us, where two men whispered about a failed trip—about a boat that had sunk, and people who were never found.
Cold sweat ran down my back.
"You're thinking of backing out?" Fouad asked, this time without sarcasm.
I shook my head slowly.
"No… but have you ever thought we might not make it?"
He chuckled quietly, glancing around before replying:
> "If you think like that, you'll never make it anywhere. The sea is scary, yes… but scarier is the life we're stuck with here."
And he was right.
Here, there was nothing but emptiness.
---
The instructions came just two days earlier—precise details about the time and the place, as if we were on some secret mission.
Fouad was extra cautious, checking everything more than once, even deleting the messages immediately after reading them.
When the time came, the sky was already drowning in darkness, the streets nearly empty.
We walked silently along the coastal road, the cold air heavy with the smell of the sea. The only sound was our footsteps… and the pounding of our hearts.
We arrived at the meeting point: a secluded beach surrounded by rocky hills, as if it had been designed for secret journeys like this.
On the sand, about ten others were waiting—some whispering quietly, others staring out at the sea as if studying their imminent fate.
---
My gaze stopped on a man standing by the boat, smoking silently.
He looked to be in his forties, broad-shouldered, wearing a thick jacket and an old cap. He didn't need words; he carried the aura of someone who had faced life without letting it break him.
Fouad tugged at my arm, whispering:
"That's Saleh, the one in charge of the trip."
He stepped forward, shaking hands quickly with the man before gesturing toward me.
"This is Youssef."
Saleh studied me for a moment, his eyes weighing me carefully. Then he gave a small nod.
> "The sea needs men who know how to cling to life—
not men who only know how to fear it."
I couldn't find anything to say. I knew words meant nothing here.
---
The Other Passengers
I looked around at the group, trying to read their faces.
A young man in his twenties, glasses on his nose, clutching a small bag stuffed with books. He looked like a student—maybe dreaming of continuing his studies abroad. His eyes held determination, but also hesitation, as if he was still convincing himself this was the right choice.
Beside him stood a woman in her thirties, wearing a simple headscarf, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. She stared at the sea anxiously, as though she could already see it ready to swallow her whole.
Further away was a man in his fifties, dressed plainly, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. His face carried a mix of exhaustion and hope. He looked like someone who had lost too much, and this journey was his last chance at a new beginning.
---
Boarding the Boat
Saleh motioned for us.
"It's time. Get on, quickly."
He checked the equipment, made sure of the fuel, then started the engine.
The boat was medium-sized, big enough for about twenty people, but far from comfortable. Wooden benches lined the sides, narrow and cold, with only a small space left for luggage.
There were some basic supplies: water, canned food, blankets against the cold. A small first-aid kit too, though it didn't look nearly enough for any serious emergency.
"Get ready," Saleh called out loudly as he untied the ropes.
"We leave at sunset. The sea is calm tonight, but we must move fast."
---
The sun touched the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red.
It was beautiful—
but all I could think about were the dangers ahead.
I turned back, watching the shore disappear into the darkness, and felt a wave of longing mixed with unease.
This journey could be a new beginning… or a tragic end.
But I had no other choice.
"Hold on!" Saleh shouted as he released the final rope.
"We're moving."
The boat started slowly, then picked up speed as we drifted farther from the shore.
The wind was cold, the sea unnervingly calm.
I looked at the faces around me—every one of them wearing the same expression: a fragile mix of fear and hope.
Fouad sat beside me, his eyes locked on the horizon, filled with optimism.
"We'll make it, Youssef," he said with a smile.
"You'll see. Everything will be fine."
But I couldn't share his optimism.
My whole body was tense, every cell screaming that this journey might be our last.
And yet… I knew staying behind meant surrendering to a life with no future, no purpose, no hope.
The sea, with all its risks, was the only gate left—
the only gate that might lead us to something better.