God's way

Part 28

The hours crawled by as if time itself had slowed in grief. The news stayed on, the flickering images of chaos and destruction casting an eerie glow across the living room. No one spoke much. Zina had taken Zeynep to their shared bedroom to help her sleep, and Sahmir sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands. Malik had fallen asleep on Jedda's lap, her frail hands stroking his hair as she hummed something low and comforting.

I stayed close to my mum, afraid to move, afraid to be alone with my thoughts. Her arm stayed wrapped around me, and every so often, she'd whisper a quiet prayer. I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen anymore. Every time I tried, my stomach turned, the faces of the people in the videos blending into memories I didn't want to remember.

Eventually, my mother nudged me gently. "You need to sleep."

I shook my head, but she didn't let me argue. "Your body needs rest."

"I can't," I whispered hoarsely. My throat was raw from all the sobbing. "What if something else happens? What if there's more news?"

Her expression softened, but she didn't let me stay rooted to the couch. "You've done enough tonight. Tomorrow is another day, and we'll face it together."

I wanted to protest, but she stood, pulling me up with her. She held my hand as we walked to my room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Once inside, she turned on my lamp, its soft yellow light pushing back the darkness. I sat on the edge of my bed, numb and drained. Mama knelt in front of me, her hands cupping my face as she looked into my tear-streaked eyes.

"Say your prayers, Adma," she said softly. "Talk to Him. Let Him hold you tonight."

I nodded faintly, and she kissed my forehead before leaving the room.

The silence of my room pressed down on me like a weight as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the faint glow of my bedside lamp. The world outside felt far away, unreal, like it had shattered into pieces I couldn't begin to put back together. My thoughts were a blur of memories, prayers, and faces I didn't know if I'd ever see again.

I couldn't stay still. My chest felt tight, my breaths shallow. I slid off the bed and knelt on the carpet, the familiar movement grounding me. My hands trembled as I reached for my veil, lying neatly folded on the chair by my desk. I wrapped it over my hair and pinned it in place, the soft fabric pressing gently against my cheeks.

I knelt on the flooor, clasped my hands together, and closed my eyes.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis..." The words came automatically, spilling from my lips in a trembling whisper. Latin had always been a comfort, a connection to the prayers I'd grown up hearing. But as the words filled the air, something about them felt distant tonight. Like they weren't enough, like they didn't carry the weight of what I needed to say.

I stopped mid-sentence, my voice breaking. For a moment, I just knelt there, listening to the silence, to the faint hum of the radiator and the muffled voices of my family in the living room. Then, I opened my eyes and looked up, my hands still clasped tightly.

"God," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please... please hear me."

I wasn't sure where to begin. My thoughts were jumbled, my emotions raw.

"Protect them," I said, my words spilling out in a rush now, in English, clear and desperate. "Protect everyone back home. Please, keep them safe. Keep the children safe. Keep the mothers and fathers safe. Don't let them suffer. Don't let them..." My voice broke again, and tears streamed down my face.

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but the words wouldn't stop. "I know I've made mistakes, but please, don't let this happen. Please. They don't deserve this. No one does."