I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

—

The Possessor of mighty and honor listens to every heart, both speaking and silent, and both broken and healed. He Who has perfected the human into proportion alone can do so again, both to the body and soul. The body, for as long as it lives, dress and hide the soul. And the soul, may it be shattered inside this case, can only be seen by the Creator of it. Then who can fix it besides Him?

He closes his eyes, raising his hands to his face as he makes his supplication, mumbling quietly so his words remain only between him and God.

"My Lord, my pride and anger have left me lonely. No one besides You can know the distress of my soul. I ask you for peace You promise only Your remembrance can give me. Having forgotten You all these years, I've become among the wrongdoer. But You're the most forgiving, ever merciful, so forgive me for my wrong deeds."

He continues to pray, repent, and seek God's forgiveness. He searches for his peace.

When he finishes his morning prayer and looks back to his right, he finds her still praying. She sits on the prayer mat behind him— the prayer mat he has bought her. He doesn't know what she asks God for in her supplications. But he does know the peace he's seeking, Leyla carries it with her.

He patiently waits for her to finish. When she's done, she picks up her prayer mat before picking up his too, folding them both and placing them at a side table.

Burq holds his crutches and stands up from his chair. He nods towards the couch.

"Come, sit with me."

She follows him to the couch, then sits beside him quietly and looks at him. He stares back into her eyes.

Those orbs that would frighten him with their darkness once are littered with a million stars now. The night in her eyes fascinates him. Her eyes have constellations in them and he, like a lost sailor, is guided by them.

"By the morning sunlight, and the night when it falls still. Your Lord has not abandoned you, nor has He become hateful of you," he begins reciting a chapter from the holy book, continuing slowly, word by word, until he reaches, "And He found you lost and guided you." He touches her face, as if she's unreal. "And He found you needy and satisfied your needs." She smiles up at him, and he recites the remaining verses to the last one, "And proclaim the blessings of your Lord."

Leyla gazes at him in joy, reaching forward to hold his face in her hands, grazing his jaw tenderly with her thumbs. "You've started reciting Quran?"

He hums and smiles sadly. "My mother taught me and helped me memorize some of its chapters. I've forgotten most, but still remember the smaller ones." His smile fades. "I tell myself that He doesn't hate me. That He'll answer my prayers. That He'll forgive me."

"Do you know who He loves the most?" Leyla asks in a whisper.

"Who?"

She lowers her hands and holds his. "A sinner who repents to Him and returns to Him."

He glances down to their hands. "Then why am I missing something, qalbi?"

Her eyes becomes distant as if pondering over his question. Then she replies, "Our prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said, forgive others and God will forgive you."

He frowns in perplexity, thinking, before her words hit him hard and he realizes what she means. His lips twist in distaste. "You're speaking of Raad and Doha?"

"And of your parents, to reconcile with your family," she adds calmly.

He pulls away from her, shaking his head. "What are you saying?"

"The truth."

"I admit, my stepmother took care of me like her own son. She loved me and Raad the same. And I never saw Raad as my half brother, but purely my blood. I'm not faulting my mother, neither baba even though he had been harsh on me during this ordeal. But Raad and Doha," he grits his teeth, "they both cheated me."

Her features remain passive and serene, showing no emotions. She tilts her head in curiosity. "How so?"

"How so?" he repeats in surprise, his eyebrows going up. "Raad knew of my feelings towards Doha yet he stabbed me in the back. And Doha knew I loved her, insanely so. She knew I wanted to marry her yet she married my brother instead."

This time he sees a flicker of fire in her irises for a fleeting moment before they darken to their natural shade again. Burq bites back his tongue.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes and scrubs his face in frustration. "I didn't want to say anything to hurt you. You must trust that my feelings lie with you now."

"I know," she assures. "But Burq, what do you knew of Raad's feelings? What if your brother loved the same woman as you but never had the courage to share it with you? Why would he agree to marry her otherwise?" She inches closer, lowering her voice, "Did Doha ever tell you that she loved you back?"

Her statements leave him stunned and dumbfounded. He doesn't have answers to those questions. He never considered those possibilities, blinded by his own selfishness. Did Doha ever reciprocate his love? They weren't ever committed to begin with.

I respect your feelings, azizi. But to respect doesn't mean to reciprocate.

"No," he responds after a while, Doha's words suddenly ringing in his ears.

"So did you want Raad not to marry Doha and break her heart just because she couldn't love you back and it broke yours?" Leyla looks at him meaningfully.

"Of course not. I..." he trails off, then steals his eyes away from her and fixes them on the fireplace. It burns with an intense flame, just like the blood in his veins. "I was just deeply hurt, Leyla."

"Understandably."

"I couldn't deal with it, so I moved far away." He looks back at her. "Am I a bad man?"

Once more, her smile graces her face. "Do bad men reflect upon their actions?"

"Maybe."

She chuckles softly at him. "Only people with conscience do. And those who have a conscience are good people, Burq, not bad. They don't have their faith dead."

How can she lull his turmoil with so much ease? How can she smile through her own pain so well? Is it the strength of her faith?

"Do you want me to tell you a story?" she asks him after a while.

He smiles. "Of course. Who is it about this time?"

"Prophet Yusuf. Joseph."

He leans back in the couch, resting his head on a cushion under it and getting comfortable. He gently tugs her towards himself and she scoots closer, leaning back beside him.

"If I recall correctly, his story teaches us a lot of lessons," Burq points out. "What lesson do you want me to learn?"

Leyla bites her lip and catches his eyes knowingly. "All of them. But I'll focus on forgiveness here."

He lets out a chuckle and cranes his neck to the side, feeling a tranquility only she can bring him. "Narrate to me this story then, qalbi."

"When Prophet Yusuf was only a small boy, he once saw a dream," she begins, subconsciously toying with the sleeve of his sweater. He watches her with amusement, listening attentively, not daring to disturb her. "He saw that the sun, the moon, and eleven stars were all bowing down to him."

"A dream of prophet-hood?" Burq comments.

"Yes, since his father, prophet Yaqub (Jacob) was a prophet too. They were from the family of the prophets. So Yusuf told his father about his dream, and Yaqub, having knowledge of the interpretation of dreams, knew a big future was awaiting his son. He gathered Yusuf was next in line to be the prophet. But he had other sons too, and he was afraid if they learned of Yusuf's dream, they might envy him. So Yaqub adviced Yusuf not to share his dream with his brothers."

"But he did?"

"Yes, since he didn't know of their jealousy, because of their father's inclination towards him. And when they learned of his dream, they understood it wasn't something ordinary and their jealousy of Yusuf's increased. So they plotted and decided to get rid of him."

"Ah, the betrayal of blood. It bruises the heart," Burq comments and Leyla looks at him disapprovingly. "Am I wrong?" he asks innocently.

She shakes her head and continues with the story, "The brothers of Yusuf somehow convinced their father to allow Yusuf to go out with them, and assured him of his safety. And Yaqub, even though not satisfied in his heart, permitted their sons to go out together. And so, they took him with them and as soon as they were away, they turned against Yusuf; the innocent young boy couldn't understand their behavior. They took off his shirt and stained it with animal's blood, and they threw Yusuf into a dried up well and left him there to die."

Leyla releases his sweater's sleeve and he instantly misses her touch. She looks at him and he inches closer to her. "What then?"

"Now when Satan had succeeded into leading them all astray and harming their own brother, a fear gripped them once the deed was done, each of them thinking how they were to face their father now. They went back home, fake crying, and presenting the blood stained shirt of Yusuf to prophet Yaqub, fabricating lies about how a wolf ate him while their attention deviated. And Yaqub upon hearing this instantly understood their lies. But instead, he turned to his Lord and sought His help, remaining patient despite the unexplainable grief he felt. He put his faith in God."

"And they got away with it, didn't they?"

"For a time being, yes." Leyla goes back to rolling and unrolling the hem of his sleeve between her fingers and he suppresses his smile. "Meanwhile, a caravan going to Egypt stopped by the well to drink water and found a boy in there. They took him with them and he was sold to the treasurer of Egypt. And so, Yusuf ended up as a slave in Egypt." She stops to catch her breath and looks away to the fireplace. "Years passed; he grew up. And heavens, he grew up into a very handsome man, so much so that no woman could look at him without falling for him. The narrations say, where the entire universe and its creation was given half of the beauty, the other entire half of the beauty was given to Yusuf alone. So one cannot imagine how handsome he must have been." She meets Burq's eyes again. "And thus, it happened so that the wife of his own master fell for him."

Burq smirks and runs his fingers through her hair, pushing them away from her face, taking a strand to twist it around his finger. "The climax in the story."

"Now she too was a very beautiful woman, the most popular of her times, and wealthy. She had everything she wanted, and she wanted him too, to the point where she was ready to cheat her husband for him. So one day when her husband was not at home, she locked the doors and went to him. And without any ado, she clearly told him that she desired him— to take her. And Yusuf," she releases his sleeve again and stare into his eyes, "he felt a slight inclination in his heart towards her too. You see, he might have been a prophet, but also a human, although he set up an example for the mankind. He instantly sought refuge with God from the lustful desires of Satan, from committing a major sin, and prayed to God to make prison more beautiful for him than that woman."

"Truly a great man."

"Indeed." Leyla smiles at him fleetingly. "So to save himself, Yusuf ran away from her, and she ran after him and got hold of his shirt, tearing it from behind in the process. And when they both reached the door and opened it, they found the aziz of Egypt, his master, standing at there." Her eyes darken into a midnight sky. "Now they were both caught."

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