Pulse Between Pages

Before the books and the blackboards.

Before the scholarship letter that made her father cry on the prayer mat.

Before she stood at the gates of the university, shoulders square against a world that had always demanded more than she had to give-

There was silence.

The kind that filled the room when she first entered the world. No cries. No laughter. Just a mother bleeding regret and a father bleeding pride.

Jadwa Abdulrahman did not arrive with a golden spoon or a warm welcome. She was born into a quiet rebellion-two hearts that chose love over legacy, and paid for it with hunger and exile. Her name meant gift, but in those first days, she felt more like a burden that no one came to lift.