The therapist's eyes softened, the corners crinkling with quiet sympathy. Her voice, gentle yet weighted with genuine ache, broke the silence."Okay… that hurts like hell. It really does. He must need so much help… to be sane again, I think."
Ababeel nodded slowly, fingers twisting in her lap as if grounding herself in the present. The memory hovered, heavy and unrelenting.
"So… what happened next?" the therapist asked, leaning in with careful patience.
Ababeel exhaled shakily, the breath trembling as it left her chest."Well…" She paused, staring down at her hands as though tracing the lines of the past."…the whole two months went by in agonising pain. So slow… every day felt like a lifetime, every minute a torture in itself."
She leaned back against the chair, eyes distant, swimming in the memory." I started going to university again. Tried to act like everything was normal, like nothing ever happened… as if I could just… move on," she said, the words hollow at first. A humourless chuckle escaped her, bitter and quiet.
"But no matter what I did, my mind… it wandered everywhere. In every situation, I found myself thinking… what would Habeel have done in this?"
Her lips curved in a faint, embarrassed smile, fragile and almost ashamed."I was going so crazy that every guy in my class started to look like him to me. And sometimes, when I got angry… I'd imagine Janneh standing there with a rock in her hand, ready to strike."
The therapist's expression softened further, crumpling with empathy.
"My sister… she tried everything. Took me to therapy sessions, tried to make me eat, sleep… breathe. But nothing worked."
Her voice dropped, low and trembling."It was so hard. And I kept thinking… if it's this hard for me, how hard must it have been for Habeel?"
The therapist nodded without interruption, an acknowledgement that the pain was valid, real.
"So… to try to understand him," Ababeel continued, voice shaking, fragile yet determined, "I started praying. Fasting. Reading the Book—not out of obligation… but to understand him, to understand the way he sees the world."
She paused, brushing a stray tear from her cheek before it could fall."I understood how Ramadan… how it teaches us to feel what it's like to have nothing. How it reminds us to help others in need."
A soft, fleeting smile brushed her lips."And then Ramadan came… and because of that… the days became slightly bearable."
She swallowed, her throat tightening."And then… Eid arrived." Her eyes brightened, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds."It marked exactly two months without hearing his voice. I ran… straight to the campsite."
Her posture shifted, sitting straighter, her eyes glowing as if reliving the moment in vivid colour."And then I saw him."
She smiled fully now, a small warmth threading through the memory."He was running t, o—towards the same place. Wearing his Eid clothes, carrying a backpack. He looked… alive again. Healthy. Like he had run straight from Eid prayers to the gate, desperate, hopeful."
Her voice softened as she recreated the memory:'You didn't go to your parents? As in… abroad?'
"And I said… 'I couldn't leave Janneh.'" Her throat tightened at the memory, a pang of longing and relief intertwining.
"He said, 'Me neither. I ran as soon as this ankle monitor clicked on.'
She blinked, remembering, her expression softening further."He walked up to me and… handed me a cupcake. 'Happy Eid.'"
Her hands had trembled when she took it, her heart hammering in her chest."I ate it right there. Didn't even wait."
She laughed softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, and leaned forward, voice lowering into Habeel's dramatic cadence:'WE CAME BEARING GIFTS! Let us in, please!'
"And then… he just sat. Right there, on the sidewalk. Didn't move an inch. Determined. Even if he had to wait the whole day, he would."
She inhaled deeply, a stubborn little smile tugging at her lips."And I… I sat next to him. Because I wasn't going anywhere either."
Her gaze lifted to the therapist, filled with a mix of hope, grief, and unbreakable determination."That couldn't have been the ending of our story… now could it?"