Between the Grapevines

22. Itnan Wa'Ishrun

She lifted her hand in front of her, still not finding the ring on her finger. Nonetheless, she remembered how it had felt. She knew it had been there before and that she had not been stuck in here all these years.

"Where did you go?" The man asked.

"I was outside," Fayza responded in her distraction. "By a miracle of God, I escaped and lived outside for four years until they found me again. I buried my friend and... cared for her child. I got married."

The man whispered in God's name. "They have no humanity in them, refusing to spare such a young girl and her family. What is your name, my daughter? I will tell my wife to reach out to them."

"I cannot... tell you," she whispered. If she told him, they would separate them just as they'd tried to transfer her last time. All Fayza wanted was to have one thing that stayed as it was—a constant in her whirling life. "They will take me away or hurt you. I cannot."

The man was silent a moment. "Do not despair, my daughter. Wa ma kan Rabuka Naseean, and your Lord is never forgetful."

Fayza nodded. Even as they sat in the dark cells, two humans out of the billions that roamed the Earth, buried beneath floors of a tall prison and locked in by the ground surrounding each wall, their Lord saw them. He heard their prayers and their cries of pain.

And their Lord was not forgetful.

Fayza spent the next week or so with the man, their bored conversation fixated on their trust in justice and belief that they would both one day leave the cold cells. Without him, Fayza had removed the thought of hope from her mind and learned to accept the sentence she'd been dealt in this world. But the man, whom she soon came to know as Muntasir, kept her thoughts light and trusting.

A few times, they prayed together even as they were separated. When they did, Ami Muntasir asked God to return Fayza to her husband and family and rid their people of the Occupation's curse. He prayed for the strength and protection of the Resistance fighters whom he said fought by the orders of their Lord, submitting themselves to fight for His justice. When he did, Fayza's heart was warmed by the image of Riyad, wearing his keffiyeh and riding atop the back of Ta'ira.

As she lifted her hands to whisper her requests after those prayers, Fayza found it difficult to keep her attention from drifting back the man she'd lived for over a month married to. She wondered how he was doing. What he was doing somewhere else in the country while she remained locked up as was fated for her to be. Did he worry about her?

It was in the darkest hours of the night, perhaps an hour or two before the sun's light would touch the black clouds, that Harakat understood why Kader had become so convinced in her guilt. Kader had always been the coldest toward her, but he'd always been the one whose gaze she saw dart away if their eyes met. Ever since her first day, there'd always been something unusual about him but she could never put her finger on it.

She wasn't sure what had planted the thought in her mind or why she'd become so convinced by it, confident that it was the truth. But as Harakat slid her feet into her slippers and hurried out of the room, she knew that she could not keep it from Farhan and the others.

Nonetheless, when she opened the door, Harakat found herself face to face with the man who'd tried dragging her away moments before. This time, the look in his eyes had changed. He no longer masked himself.

"Where are you going?" He asked, tilting his head curiously. The gesture directed her attention to the handkerchief clasped between his fingers and past the railing of the stairs. Her eyes caught on the smallest color of green peeking around the corner, but it was a shade she knew well.