Ababeel's jaw locked.
"I…"
Her teeth ground together, fury and hurt tangled so tight she didn't know where one ended and the other began.
Habeel lifted his chin, eyes glinting—not with anger, but with something close to surrender.
"I what? If I'm really a bad person, shoot. End it right here. Take the child."
He reached slowly, deliberately, and placed his knife in front of her.
Then he raised his hands, palms open in the firelight.
Ababeel's breath shook. The rage in her chest boiled.
She grabbed the gun—fast—and pressed it hard against his forehead.
"Don't think for a second I won't," she hissed.
Habeel's body tensed, not with fear but with resignation. He didn't fight back. Didn't flinch.
"And now you will listen."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed and nodded once.
"I was ten," she spat. "Ten. And kidnapped by my own driver."
A flicker of horror crossed his face, but he didn't dare speak.
"I was there for two days…"
Habeel whispered, voice breaking, "Did something happen..?"
Ababeel shoved the gun harder against his skin.
"I said LISTEN!"
He nodded again, eyes wide, lips pressed tight.
"He looked like the perfect man, you know? The beard. The prayer beads. The soft voice. He prayed five times a day—just like you."
Her voice trembled. "One day, instead of taking me home from tuition… he drove somewhere else."
Habeel shut his eyes briefly, shame washing down his face like rain.
"But it's not me… I didn't—"
The words escaped him before he could stop them, broken and helpless.
"Nothing happened," she snapped. "But when he untied me for something, I bit his hand and ran out the open door."
Her breath hitched. "I guess he only needed ransom."
She swallowed hard.
"I ran. And ran. And ran. He chased me… and then—he stepped onto the street to grab me and—"
Her voice cracked. "A car hit him. Killed him."
Silence.
Habeel's voice was small, pained.
"Your trauma of him… that's why you vomit when you see something bad."
She nodded, breath trembling.
Habeel slowly lifted a hand, placed it gently over the gun, and lowered it an inch—not forcing, just asking.
"Look," he whispered, eyes shining with sincerity, "if I could go back in time and prevent that, I swear on everything I have, I would. But that doesn't mean every man is like him. It doesn't mean everyone is bad. That kind of thinking is…" he hesitated, "…it's poisoning you."
Ababeel's shoulders curled in.
"And then when I went home," she whispered, "everyone looked at me like I was the culprit. Like he was the victim."
Her voice shook harder.
"Restrictions started. I couldn't choose my friends. I couldn't go out. And some in my family said… who would marry a girl who was kidnapped?"
Habeel nodded slowly, eyes full of understanding.
"In our societies, they blame the victim even when they don't say it out loud. They suffocate you with 'care.' They cage you."
He paused. "I know."
Ababeel pressed the gun to his forehead again.
"So now what? You'll look at me differently, too?"
"No," he answered instantly. "Never."
"You're all high and mighty," she spat. "Would you ever marry a filth like me? Like they said?"
"Yes."
The word shot out of him so fast his ears turned red.
He froze, realising what he said.
Ababeel stared.
"W… huh?!"
Flustered and furious, she grabbed Janneh's tiny hand and stormed into the truck.
Habeel sank slowly to the ground beside a tree, unable to move.
He couldn't force himself into the truck after saying something that reckless.
He stared at the fire until his eyes stung.
Ababeel hadn't slept.
Her chest felt heavy.
His words felt too loud.
Too real.
When she finally stepped outside, he was gone from the campfire.
Panic pricked her—unwanted, uninvited.
She walked until she heard the soft plip… plip… of stones hitting water.
Habeel stood by the riverbank, skipping rocks, shoulders slumped, eyes hollow.
When she stopped beside him, he didn't look at her.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured. "And everything you said…It's right. Completely."
His grip tightened around another rock.
"But you can't judge me in the same light as the monsters who hurt you. You're destroying the difference between them and you."
He chuckled weakly.
"And I'm not even black. I'm brown. Will you shoot me for it, too?"
Despite herself, Ababeel's eyes softened.
"You were right, too," she admitted quietly.
He shrugged.
"I know. Rich or poor, each person has their own hardships. Yours happened when you were a child. Mine… now."
He stared at the river.
"At least you have someone to lean on."
He exhaled.
"I don't even know if I have a family anymore. My house was destroyed in the bombing. Even if I make it to a safe camp… I'll be a beggar."
He picked up a stick and poked the dirt.
"What will I look like as a beggar?"
"Like your usual camel face," Ababeel muttered.
He gasped in loud offence—
And then—
"AHH! AHH!! ANTS!!"
He jumped around frantically, slapping at his clothes before running straight into the river.
Ababeel crossed her arms.
"You are a mess."
"Can you bring me my clothes, please?" he called.
She grumbled but fetched them, handing them without looking as he changed.
He zipped up his jacket, fresh and dripping.
"All set for moving?"
She nodded.
He hopped into the driver's seat and took off. Two hours later—
White tents. Floodlights. Tall fences. Soldiers.
Safety.
Habeel gasped.
Then squealed.
"WE MADE IT!!"
Janneh woke from the sudden joy, blinking sleepily before jumping out of the truck toward the camp.
"Janneh! Wait—"
Habeel ran after her.
Soldiers raised their guns instantly.
Red laser dots painted Habeel's chest.
Without thinking, he spread his arms and stepped in front of both Ababeel and Janneh—
shielding them with his body.
Hands up.
Breath trembling.
Dawn was glowing behind him like a halo.
And the world froze.