The truck rolled to a halt beside the half-collapsed pharmacy, its walls buckling inward like an exhausted lung. Rain slid in thin silver threads down the broken windows, and the sky above rumbled a low, hungry growl—as if the storm itself was stalking them.
Ababeel stepped out first, boots sinking into the wet gravel. Her muscles ached from the night, from the fear, from everything in between. Behind her, Habeel walked around the truck, lifting little Janneh with practised ease and settling her onto his shoulders.
"I'm your horse now… hehe," he announced, bouncing the small girl lightly.
Janneh clapped her hands, her laughter echoing faintly—fragile happiness in a world trying to crush it.
Inside, the pharmacy was a graveyard of fallen shelves and spilt bottles. The air carried the stale smell of dust, wet cardboard, and old medicine. Glass shards glittered like shards of ice under the dim grey light filtering through the broken ceiling.
Ababeel drifted toward the personal hygiene aisle, cheeks already warming.
This is going to be embarrassing. Just grab what you need and move.
Habeel's voice cut across the ruined aisle.
"What are you doing?"
She stiffened.
"Nothing! Just— first aid stuff. Because we get injured. A lot. Obviously."
He narrowed his eyes but didn't push. He crouched instead and began scooping up stray EpiPens into a plastic bag, doing it with such suspicion and awkward guilt that she felt guilty.
"What are you doing?" she shot back.
He jolted so hard that a pen flew out of his hand.
"NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!"
Her mind spiralled instantly.
He's hiding something. Why won't he ever just say what he needs? Is he allergic to something? What if he dies because he won't admit it? Why is he like this?
He loudly cleared his throat—as if to erase the entire moment from existence—and knelt to let Janneh down. The little girl rushed to a pile of hair clips scattered on the tile, clutching tiny stars, butterflies, and flowers—souvenirs from a child who lived here before war devoured the city.
She held them up with sparkling eyes.
Ababeel's heart tugged. "They're beautiful."
Meanwhile, Habeel found clothes—children's, women's, men's. He examined each piece with surprising care, feeling the fabric, checking the seams as if he'd done this a thousand times. Maybe he had. Maybe protecting people was instinct carved into his bones.
After grabbing jackets for himself, he marched toward the exit.
"I'll put this stuff in the truck. Don't take too long."
Outside, he shouted through the cracked doorway:
"Hurry up, princesses! Your carriage awaits!"
Ababeel rolled her eyes so hard her skull hurt.
If I survive this war, I'm punching him straight in his smug face.
She quickly chose warm clothes for herself, slung a small bag over her shoulder, and called out:
"Did you take the water?"
"YES!!" he sang back, humming happily.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the world shifted.
A tremor rippled through the ground—small at first… then violent.
The ceiling groaned.
A sharp, splintering crack tore the air.
Ababeel looked up.
The front support beam—already half broken—gave way with a sickening snap.
"…oh no."
The entire pharmacy came crashing down.
Shelves collapsed. Glass exploded. Concrete roared downward.
Ababeel threw herself over Janneh, curling around the little girl with every ounce of strength she had as the ceiling crushed the world into darkness.
Dust rushed into her lungs.
The ground swallowed them whole.
Habeel's humming sliced off mid-note at the explosion of dust.
He turned.
The pharmacy folded in on itself—crashing inward like a dying animal, collapsing in a cloud of choking dust.
"ABABEEL!!!"
His scream ripped out of him, raw and unrecognisable.
He didn't think. Didn't breathe.
He ran.
The truck door slammed behind him as he sprinted, sliding across shrapnel and broken tile. The air was thick with dust—grey, suffocating, blinding. Debris kept falling around him, raining metal and stone.
His heart hammered so fast he tasted blood.
"No, no, no, no—"
He dropped to his knees and clawed at the rubble. His fingers tore open on jagged edges, blood smearing across concrete, but he didn't feel the pain.
"ABABEEL! JANNEH! ANSWER ME!" His voice shattered, desperation cracking each word. "PLEASE— JUST— SAY SOMETHING!"
But there was no answer.
Only silence.
A silence that screamed louder than bombs.
He ripped aside a beam with both hands, tendons burning, muscles screaming in protest. He didn't stop. Didn't blink.
I should've stayed. Why did I leave them? Why wasn't I inside?
Dust filled his lungs until he coughed violently, but he pressed his ear to the rubble, shaking uncontrollably.
"Ababeel… please… just one sound. I'm here. I'm coming. Just— hold on. Please, please—"
He stumbled forward, breaking, gasping, bleeding.
"God… please… not them. Take me instead— just not them."
And still…
No sound.