‖HIS WARRIOR‖ KTHff

CHAPTER 58

15 years later

Under the gentle embrace of the afternoon sun, the madrasah lay nestled amidst a tapestry of vibrant greenery. The manicured lawn, adorned with blossoming flowers of every hue, served as a canvas for the playful spirits of the children who darted and laughed, their joy reverberating through the air like a soothing melody.

Amidst this symphony of youthful exuberance, the courtyard buzzed with activity. The hushed murmur of students poring over their Qur'anic verses mingled with the gentle rustle of pages turning. From the open windows of the classrooms, the melodious recitation of Quránic verses resonated, a testament to the dedication of both teachers and pupils.

In one corner, a group of children sat cross-legged under the shade of a sprawling tree, their brows furrowed in concentration as they traced the elegant Arabic calligraphy adorning the pages. Nearby, a cluster of teachers engaged in earnest conversation, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of knowledge exchanged.

The tranquil atmosphere was punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the distant sound of footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity, a sense of serenity prevailed, like a gentle current guiding all who traversed the sacred halls toward a greater understanding of the divine.

As the sun cast long shadows across the courtyard, bathing it in a golden hue, the essence of the madrasah revealed itself—a sanctuary of learning, a haven of peace, where the pursuit of knowledge transcended the boundaries of time and space. And in this moment, as day melted into dusk.

A man, his weathered features softened by the wisdom of age, emerged from the shadowed confines of the madrasah, his presence commanding a quiet reverence. Clad in a tailored brown coat over a crisp suit, he exuded an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. With a peaceful smile gracing his lips, he walked with one hand resting gently on the small of his back, a gesture of habitual comfort.

As he strolled through the bustling courtyard, his gaze wandered, taking in the sight of children engrossed in their studies, their youthful energy tempered by the solemnity of their pursuit. A sense of tranquility settled over him, a rare gift in a world often plagued by chaos.

Approaching him with eager anticipation, a group of children gathered around, their bright eyes alight with curiosity and affection. With a tender smile, he greeted each one in turn, his touch gentle as he patted their heads and listened attentively to their chatter.

"Taehyung," a familiar voice called out, drawing his attention. Turning, he beheld Namjoon, a friend whose journey had taken unexpected turns, leading him down paths once unimagined. Embracing Namjoon warmly, Taehyung returned the traditional greeting with sincerity.

"Assalamualaikum, how are you?" Namjoon inquired, his voice tinged with genuine concern. Taehyung's response was soft and reassuring, a reflection of the peace that enveloped him.

"Walaikumassalam, Alhamdulillah, I am fine. And what about you? What brings you here?" Taehyung's words carried a warmth that belied his years, a testament to the bond they shared.

"I am fine too. I came because Ayzal sent some gifts for the kids. She was busy with work, so she couldn't come," Namjoon explained, his expression softened by fondness for his absent wife.

Taehyung nodded in understanding, his thoughts drifting to the unexpected twists of fate that had brought them together. "I never thought Namjoon, who once harbored hostility toward Yazia because of her faith, would one day embrace Islam and marry Ayzal. Life is full of surprises," he mused, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.