Echoes Of Tomorrow : Raif Al-Darazi

chap 1 : Whispers Of Fate

The mirror before me reflects a face that no longer feels like mine. The features are familiar, but the man behind them is someone I barely recognize. The echoes of my song still linger in my ears, but the music no longer has the same warmth. It feels distant, hollow, like an old melody that's lost its rhythm. I stand there, frozen, my thoughts consumed by one thing—the girl.

Who is she?

Her face haunts me, day and night. No matter how hard I try, I can't escape her. Her image is like a burning light, shining through the darkest corners of my mind. She is a vision, a ghost of something real, something I can't quite grasp. Her face is like moonlight, pale and glowing, framed by the soft folds of her hijab. Her eyes are a mystery—deep, unspoken, as though they hold secrets of the world. And yet, in them, I see myself, a reflection of something I don't understand.

She's not just a fleeting thought. She's become everything. My every waking moment, my every breath feels tied to her, as if she's a part of me I've lost and now need to find again.

Ya Allah, what does this mean?

The words slip out before I can stop them, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. It's not a prayer I expected to make, but it feels like the only thing left to do. I'm lost, drifting between the uncertainty of my mind and the pull of something greater. The tumor—the pain, the fog in my thoughts—has made everything blur together. But the girl... she's too real to be a mere illusion.

I need to know her, Ya Allah. Please show me what this is about.

I bow my head, closing my eyes as I speak to God, my heart heavy with a weight I can't describe. There's something in me, something deep, that feels like it's crying out for this girl. But I don't even know who she is, where she's from, or what role she plays in this madness. I feel like I'm on the edge of something—something I can't reach, but desperately need to.

The world around me has faded into the background. The faces of my fans, the flashing lights, the crowds—it's all meaningless now. The only thing that holds any substance is her. Her face. Her presence.

What is the meaning behind all of this?

I close my eyes, hoping that the answers will come. I imagine her again, standing in front of me, her face as real as the world around me. But when I open my eyes, she's gone. Gone like a dream fading into the light of morning.

I stand there, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself, but the feeling of her never goes away. It lingers in my chest, a constant ache.

I don't know who she is, but I feel like I'm meant to find her.

But how? Where do I even start?

The door creaks open, and Malik steps inside, his voice cutting through the silence. "Bro, are you okay?"

His concern is evident, but it feels like a distant echo. How can I explain this to him? How can I tell him that I'm not just losing my mind from the tumor, but that I'm losing myself in something much bigger, something I don't even understand?

"I don't know what's happening to me, Malik," I say, my voice barely audible. "Every night, I dream of her. She's... real, Malik. She's here. But I don't know where, or who she is... I don't even know her name."

Malik's silence is heavy, his eyes filled with concern and confusion. "Raif... It's the tumor. It's messing with your head. Just just get some rest already."

His words are kind, but they don't reach me. Rest? How can I rest when she's all I can think about?

I turn away from him, pressing my fingers to my temples, trying to block out the images of her that keep surfacing. I need to find her. I have to. There's something inside me that tells me I'm meant to meet her. But I don't know how.

I close my eyes again and whisper a prayer, my voice shaking. Ya Allah, please. If this is part of Your plan, show me the way. I don't know what to do, but I will follow where You lead me. Please, show me the truth.

Raif stood by the window, his mind adrift in the vast expanse of city lights. It was quiet here—unnervingly so. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. The world outside seemed alive, but here, he was a stranger to himself.

That girl. The one from his dream. The one who had made her way into his waking thoughts like an uninvited guest. Her face was like a vision, and every time he closed his eyes, he could still see her—radiant, untouchable. There was a sense of familiarity, something deep in his chest that told him this wasn't just a fleeting thought.

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustration building. The tumor's pain throbbed, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was this pull, this feeling like the world was changing. And it was all because of her.

"Bro, enough already. Stop staring out the window like some tragic movie character. You're giving me a headache."

Raif didn't even try to hide his annoyance. "Malik, I can't focus. Something's wrong."

Malik rolled his eyes dramatically as he leaned in the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I can see that. You've been pacing for the past hour. You're like a character straight out of a poorly-scripted drama series. Come on, bro, chill."

Raif's frustration boiled over. "I'm serious. It's not just the tumor... There's something else. I can feel her. She's here. The girl from my dreams."

Malik made a show of sighing heavily, walking into the room like he'd just been dragged into a never-ending episode of "Raif's Emotional Rollercoaster." "Oh no, not this again. What, you're gonna tell me you're seeing ghosts now? 'Cause, I swear, I can't deal with this tonight."

"I'm not joking, Malik. I saw her in my dreams, and now I see her everywhere. She's real." Raif's voice dropped an octave, filled with the weight of the words he couldn't ignore.

Malik stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Oh, this is rich. You—the guy who once spent three hours trying to fix a broken guitar string—now thinks he's in some deep romantic saga. What next? You gonna write her love letters too?"

Raif barely managed a smile, his patience thinning. "I'm not joking. I have to find her."

Malik scratched his head, looking more amused than concerned. "Alright, alright. But first—tomorrow. You've got a concert. You're not about to make this 'girl from your dreams' thing a headline, are you? No 'I love you's in the middle of your performance, Raif. Please."

Raif shook his head, the hint of a smile flickering. "I'm not that dramatic, Malik."

"Good," Malik said with a grin, "because if you are, I swear I'll start charging for the front row tickets. Gotta make a profit off this 'love story' you're trying to start."

Raif rolled his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to the girl. This... feeling. Something was pulling him in a direction he couldn't escape.

"Malik," Raif said, trying to ignore the headache building at his temples. "I do not pay you to annoy me like this, you know."

Malik raised an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, bro, you're paying me with your endless drama. That's worth more than a paycheck."

Raif huffed in mock frustration. "I swear, you're going to get a free ticket to the concert just to stop talking."

Malik shrugged nonchalantly. "Better than getting paid in 'good vibes' and existential crises."

Raif chuckled weakly, but the reality of his situation weighed heavily on him. "I have to focus on tomorrow. I can't let this... feeling get in the way."

Malik threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. But just so you know, if you go on stage tomorrow and start singing a love ballad to some mystery girl, I'm gonna pull you off the stage myself."

Raif raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You wouldn't dare."

Malik winked. "Don't test me. I've got connections."

Raif rolled his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to the girl. This... feeling. Something was pulling him in a direction he couldn't escape.