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It was an evening after the rain.
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The scent of wet earth lingered in the air, but more than that, a bond was getting drenched — without the rain ever touching it.
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Zoboriya was sitting in the middle.
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To her left — AbuZarr. To her right — Safwan.
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And between the three of them was the bench — silent, not because it had nothing to say, but because it was simply tired.
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AbuZarr looked at Zoboriya, as if trying to understand every word before it could even leave her lips. But he said nothing.
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In his hands was the same book — open, but no longer needing a name.
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> "Will she say anything?" "Will I even be able to hear it… or will I get lost in that silence again?"
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---
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Safwan was gently circling the rim of his mug with his fingers.
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It was the same mug — the one he had once said:
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> "This doesn’t just hold coffee... it holds those evenings — when you were silent, and I was near."
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Today, his eyes did not carry the hope of an answer — but the patience of waiting, one that quietly lingers in the eyes.
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Zoboriya wanted to speak.
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She opened her lips twice — and both times, stopped at the edge of a question.
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> "Where should I begin?" "Whom do I speak to… and what do I say?"
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She simply looked down, twisting a corner of her scarf.
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Even her eyelashes held questions.
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"A Poem — that floated between the three of them"
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To an outsider, it may have looked like they were just sitting.
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But in truth, all three were entangled in the same fragile moment — where love softly whispered: "I am no longer an answer, I am peace."
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No words were exchanged. No hands were extended.
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And yet — that evening, something deep passed between them.
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AbuZarr took out an old piece of paper from his pocket — a note, written in uneven handwriting:
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> "I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me… But I know, more than forgiveness — I want nothing else."
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He placed it on the bench — and stood up. He left.
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Without saying a word.
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---
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Safwan stayed.
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He looked at Zoboriya. And simply said:
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> "If you wish — I’ll still be your ‘Z’… So you never have to confine yourself to a name."
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And then, he too — walked away.
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---
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Zoboriya was alone now.
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But for the first time — her heart wasn't afraid of that solitude.
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She picked up the note. And then opened her diary.
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"She wrote…"
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🖋️
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> "They both came today.
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One — who once was mine, but now fears my silence. The other — who never was mine, but stood with me through every silence.
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> And me?
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> I no longer want anyone’s name. I now seek only that moment… where my voice — belongs only to me."
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---
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That night…
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When Zoboriya returned home, her courage seemed to crumble.
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The moment she saw her mother, she fell into her arms — without a word.
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And for hours — she wept.
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Her sobs rose from the depths of her soul, and in her mother’s arms, a shattered girl searched for shelter.
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"Ammi..." Her voice was soaked, trembling — like the last trickle of a weary river.
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"I'm tired now, Ammi. Tired of these final moments. I don’t want anyone’s love anymore... Nor anyone’s waiting. I just want to be alone now... Far from everyone."
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She was still clinging to her mother — as if this one relationship was the only place left where she could gather all the broken pieces of herself.
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---
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AbuZarr’s Night and His Mother’s Silence
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That night, he sat by the window for a long time.
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The room lights were off, but the moon was shining in full — as if it were the only living thing in that silent room.
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AbuZarr’s eyes were lost. Neither the scene outside, nor the path inside was visible anymore.
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Zoboriya’s silence was lodged in his chest like a thorn. He knew —
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> "She won’t ask… and I won’t be able to say..."
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As if someone is walking slowly toward death, while still alive — and the worst part is not being able to tell anyone.
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Then came a soft knock at the door.
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> "AbuZarr?" His mother’s voice — gentle, yet piercing.
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She stepped inside — slowly — as if afraid that even his shadow might break.
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Her eyes fixed on his face for a moment.
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> "Since when have you become so quiet, my son?" There was an unsaid tremble in her voice.
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AbuZarr avoided her gaze.
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> "I’m fine, Ammi..." Just two words. But so heavy, even breath grew tired.
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She moved closer and sat beside him.
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> "Don’t lie to me, Abu. I’m your mother. Your face’s lines have learned time more than my prayers have."
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His throat tightened.
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> "Ammi, if I tell her everything — will you break?"
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She took his face in her hands.
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> "No, son. But if you stay silent — I will break."
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Time stood still for a moment.
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> "Tell Zoboriya everything... Because she is your love, Not your death."
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AbuZarr’s shoulder trembled — for the first time.
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He placed his head in his mother’s lap and whispered:
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> "This illness, Ammi… it’s not just eating away my bones, it’s breaking my courage every day. I don’t want to give her my weeping face, Ammi. I don’t want her last memory of me to be my dying breath..."
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Her hand stayed gently on his hair.
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And silently, two tears fell on her palm — neither his, nor hers — perhaps a prayer born from both...
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and then Add to home screen.