Wajd

1

A/N: I have written this story originally in Arabic on @mehdemure and this copy is a translation for safekeeping & hopefully can improve the English formatting once done.

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He leaned on his cane as he sat on the chair assigned to him in the observation room, able to see into the second room through the glass that covered one wall.

The second room was designated for interrogation, and those inside could not see or hear anything from the other side.

In contrast to the cold and clean room he sat in, the interrogation room was stained with blood and had a foul smell.

He calmly watched his grandson, Shaheen, who was in the interrogation room with one of his other men, and another person lying on the floor, nearly unconscious.

He struck the floor with his cane to show his annoyance, and those with him in the observation room immediately noticed.

None of them approached him except for his grandson, Ruham.

"Grandfather?" said Ruham.

Hazem, the grandfather, waved his hand. "It's fine. It's nothing."

Hazem was a man of few words and quick to anger, which made everyone who worked for him fearful of speaking with him.

But Ruham was different. He was the only grandson who understood his grandfather's thinking and needs.

How could he not know the man, having lived with him and been raised by his side?

Ruham returned to his position behind his grandfather, and silence fell again.

The only sounds they could hear were the ones coming through the glass.

"Where's the water?" demanded Shaheen.

"Bring the water!" another man yelled.

Seconds passed, and the door to the interrogation room opened. Another agent from their gang entered and handed the water to the man before exiting again.

Shaheen took the water from the agent's hands and splashed it on the face of the man lying on the floor.

Immediately, the man snapped out of his moment of semi-consciousness.

Shaheen crouched to his level, grabbed his collar, and punched him hard across the face.

The man's body jerked, almost falling backward, but Shaheen's firm grip kept him in place.

The man's face was stained with blood, just like the rest of his body, his clothes torn and soaked in blood.

The grandfather's focus was not on the man, but on his grandson Shaheen, who had just turned 24 today.

The only person he could trust with interrogation or torture matters was Shaheen.

Because Shaheen was the only grandson who resembled his grandfather, Hazem, in this regard.

He wished he could turn back time and return to the days when he was on the other side of the glass, in Shaheen's position.

But alas, time passes and doesn't return. His health and youth would never come back.

He began coughing weakly, and immediately, his grandson Ruham moved to bring him a glass of water.

The grandfather took it, drank it, and then took the handkerchief from his grandson to wipe his mouth from the light blood that appeared with the cough.

Ruham handed the glass of water to one of his grandfather's guards and then stared at Hazem with great concern.

Hazem glanced at his grandson from the corner of his eye.