Habeel tied the last knot on the rabbit plush, lifting it like a holy artefact.
Ababeel watched him over her knees, chin resting on her arms, a smirk slowly blooming.
"So…" she began, voice innocent.
"…new dad, huh?"
Habeel froze.
The thread snapped in his hand.
"NO—NO—don't start," he said, pointing at her as if she were a ticking bomb.
"Oh, come on," she teased. "You basically gave her a whole TED talk about morals, buried a cat with her, sewed her toy back, and now she files petitions in your name. That's parenthood."
"That is NOT parenthood—that is psychological hostage-taking!"
He jabbed a finger toward where Janneh was drawing in the dirt.
"She thinks I'm her father's divine replacement! HER FATHER SENT ME.
As a dad upgrade!"
Ababeel snickered.
"Well… she's not wrong. You do have 'dad energy'. Especially when you scold."
"I DO NOT—"
"Habeel," she raised a brow. "You threatened to ground a six-year-old."
He opened his mouth—closed it—then sighed dramatically.
"That was one time."
"It was yesterday."
"One. Time."
She laughed, light and warm.
For a moment, the war outside seemed to recede into the distance, its violence muffled by the cocoon of their temporary refuge. They rested in the muted heat of the late afternoon, where the air, heavy and warm, pressed gently against their skin, and even the usual chaos of distant conflict gave way to an unusual, almost fragile silence.
Habeel stretched and stood.
"I'm going to try again. Food, supplies—anything."
He stepped forward.
Janneh stood too.
Then followed him like a defeated puppy.
Habeel spun so fast his hair whipped, hands on his hips.
"NO. No, no—you are grounded. GO BACK."
He pointed sternly toward the truck.
Janneh drooped so dramatically that she looked like a wilting flower.
Ababeel snorted a laugh.
Habeel shot her a glare.
"And YOU—don't let her hold anything sharp. I swear, Ababeel, I'll ground you too."
She raised both hands in surrender.
"Yes, sir, dad-sir."
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"
She only winked. Janneh was sitting on the ground, angrily ripping grass from the roots, muttering silent little frustrations at the dirt.
Ababeel was leaning back against the truck tyre when she saw something move through the trees—
Habeel.
Running.
Breathless but grinning.
"I FOUND A POND!" he yelled long before he reached them.
Ababeel straightened. "A pond?"
"Yes! At the end of the running river—completely hidden between bushes—COME. Take your clothes. We can finally bathe."
Ababeel's mouth fell open in genuine awe.
"To be honest… as you say it…It sounds like a spa."
"It IS!" He clenched his fists victoriously.
A triumphant little hop.
He immediately tripped on a root.
Ababeel snorted loudly.
Janneh giggled behind her hands.
Habeel popped up from the dirt, pointing at them both.
"LISTEN. I am FLAT-FOOTED. Don't judge me."
"Yeah, yeah," Ababeel teased. "Camel feet. We know."
He shook his head and marched onward with dignity he absolutely did not have.
Calm, and a rare peace. Birds sang.
Leaves whispered.
For once, the world felt alive, not hunted.
"Imagine," Ababeel said lightly, "a bath in a war. We're definitely living a plot twist."
"I know, right?" Habeel grinned. "Next thing you know, we'll find shampoo falling from the sky."
"Don't push your luck."
"Fine. I'll accept soap."
Janneh tugged on his shirt.
He looked down at her soft, sad face.
His voice gentled at once.
"You're not in trouble anymore, okay? No more killing plushie thieves."
She nodded, relieved.
Ababeel elbowed him.
"Dad energy."
"STOP."
They reached the pond at last:
Glassy, blue-green, surrounded by thick bushes and heavy branches.
A hidden sanctuary.
Habeel beamed.
"See? Our spa."
He set the bags down and stepped behind a broad tree, turning his back respectfully.
"And also please wash this stinky little devil" "I'll stand guard," he said, voice serious now.
"If anything happens—anything at all—call me."
"Ok, Dad 2.0," Ababeel said with a grin, though an unexpected flutter of emotion stirred within her—an undercurrent she deliberately chose to ignore.
He stood rigid, scanning the trees, back straight—
Alert.
Protective.
A silhouette against the sun that looked almost like a guardian carved from light.
She and Janneh washed, scrubbing off grime and dried fear.
Fresh clothes from the collapsed pharmacy felt like luxury.
When they were done, she called out:
"Okay, Habeel. It's your turn."
"On it."
He kept his eyes carefully averted as he approached the water.
Ababeel and Janneh walked toward the truck, the earth soft beneath their clean feet.
They waited.
And waited.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Something prickled in Ababeel's chest.
"Why is he taking so long?" she whispered.
Janneh tugged her sleeve, pointing nervously toward the trees.
Ababeel's heartbeat climbed.
A slow, cold dread slides down her spine.
Something was wrong.
Badly wrong.
"Stay close," she told Janneh.
She grabbed a fallen branch—anything resembling a weapon—and began running back toward the pond.
Janneh sprinted beside her, tiny breaths quick and panicked.
"Please don't be naked, please don't be naked, please don't be naked—" Ababeel muttered under her breath, half-praying, half-dreading.
They burst through the bush wall—
And the pond was empty.
The water rippled.
But Habeel was
gone.
Ababeel's stomach dropped.
Her voice cracked into the air:
"HABEEL?!"