Jala's POV
The familiar sense of recognition washes over me, as it did when I saw Ali, taking in the appearance of the man before me. He is tall and well built, his taut muscles visible in the sweat shirt sticking to his torso. The green color of his eyes turns golden as it nears his pupils, his bronzed complexion complementing them even further. His square jaw and sharp cheekbones, along with the perfect curve of his nose down to his cupid's bow that reach plump, rosy lips makes it hard to breathe as I feel his strong hands linger on my arms, not used to the touch from the opposite gender.
"Who are you?" he asks, as I see a flicker of recognition in those green eyes of his. His voice is husky and deep, like a low rumble from his throat. When I don't answer, his grip on my arms tightens as he moves closer to me. "I said, who are you?" He sneers, his breath fanning my face. I move out of my trance and match the intensity of his gaze. "That's none of your damn business," I sneer back.
"I see both of you have made yourself at acquaintance," Ali comments, as we remove our gazes from one another, turning our attention to him and the imbecile finally gives me some room to breathe. "Do all men greet women in such a exquisite manner or is it just you two?" I said, straightening my clothes. "They do when women are as pretty as you," Ali replies, running the back of his hand against my face, his touch feather light. He walks past me, while I stood momentarily rooted to the spot, taken aback by the sudden physical contact. I catch the stranger staring at me with an amused sort of expression his face. I roll my eyes at him and turn my attention towards Ali. The only men that have ever touched me are my father and brothers, and that too so rarely that I don't remember the last time they did.
"Salman," he gestured his hand towards the man who finally has a name now, and then directed them towards me. "Jala. Jala, Salman. Now go and take a shower before you get the whole place smelling like a sewer."
Salman throws a rude gesture towards him before making his way towards Ali's room. I see a ghost of smile on his face before he busies himself with a stack of papers on the desk in front of him.
"Have you talked to him?" I asked him.
"About what?" he replies, preoccupied with the task.
"When you two are getting married," I said, rolling my eyes at which he raises his eyebrows. So they are getting married? "I was asking about the dream."
"He's not ready, yet," he said, quietly.
"And you think I was?" I ask my voice raising. "Out of the blue, a guy comes and pins me to the wall, telling me to leave my life behind and join him, because he has the answers?"
"You speak as if you had a life."
I'm taken aback by the harsh words, the truth in them making it even worse. He didn't even have to shout to deal the blow. He must have realized this because he leaves the papers behind on the table and makes his way towards me, taking a seat next to the floor couch next to me.
"I'm sorry," he says, guilt evident on his face and voice.
"No" I rake a hand through my hair. "You're right. I didn't have one then, and I don't know when I am getting started on the next. The only life that I have a chance of calling mine seems to be the afterlife."
"Then you are one of the few lucky ones who have a say with God," He says quietly. "Others like me have sins that are too big."
"You're forgetting you're asking the One who loves to forgive," I tell him.
"Am I interrupting something?" Salman walks into the room in a pair of clean sweats and a towel draped on his shoulders, ruffling his unruly brown hair. I instinctively put some distance between us, as I realize how inappropriate the situation looks. "Just our next strategy," Ali says nonchalantly, standing up.
"Strategy? For what?"
"War."
Salman's POV
"… and then I'm surrounded by a blinding white light, so bright that I have to close my eyes. When I open them again, I'm in a… I want to say different place, but it feels like a different dimension altogether. Then I see those words written before me."
She closes her eyes and I can't help but repeat the mantra with her.
"A bigger picture," We chant together. "A higher purpose. The greater good."
"Tell me you don't see them every night," Ali challenges me. "Scrawled in the heavens, staring right at you, urging you, driving you."
Hearing them from another individual, who I feel an unspeakable bond with, makes them somehow even more real. A journey I went through every night, an experience I was too afraid to share was now displayed in front of me. It made me feel exposed somehow, conjuring up the courage to believe, to hope. It stood right in front of me, in the form of two individuals, one of them I had spent countless days and nights with, but something had changed between us now, a sudden shift in the air, and I know that they could feel it too. But unlike them, I was too coward to face the truth, so instead of facing it, I turned away and ran.
I ran down the stairs and did not stop at the worried looks I got from Abdur Rehman baba or Deli Demir, running out of the house, and onto the sloping track that overlooked the scenic valley beneath. The sky was clear, and the breeze was cool as it ruffled my hair. Taking a few bated breaths, I walked down the lane not going anywhere in particular, wondering where my steps would lead me. I was in Ali's clothes and shoes which were our traditional attire and sandals in the color black, so I would eventually have to return to him. That would take a while, though.
I wandered across the paths, with the scarce amount of residency providing little hindrance in my aimless walking. I was grateful that no one had tried following me and asked me questions I knew I wouldn't be able to answer, at least for the time being. Coming across a little wooden hut, a stark contrast from the grand manors of cement and stone that abundantly inhabit this place; I followed the candle light that showed through its window. On closer approach, I saw the dome shaped structures that were peaking out from the rest of the small wooden building and it had intricately carved signs of David running along the polished wood in patterns. A humble house of God stood out against the boastful architectures of humanity, as the call to prayer rang through the valley.
"Come to Success"
"Come to Success"
I am coming. I step into the mosque removing my shoes at its entrance, and perform ablution; the water running down my arms reminds me of sins being washed away.
"God is the Greatest" I proclaim raising my hands to my ears, before folding them on my chest.
"Thee do we worship, and Thine aid we seek."
Help me in accepting the truth. Help me, in the purpose you have assigned for me and enduring the toils of the path yet to come.