Abo Bilal had summoned Omar one of his hideouts, it was hidden in a quiet corner of the city, where the shadows stretched long and conversations were kept low. When Omar arrived, Abo Bilal wasted no time—he needed his help. There was someone they needed information on, a high-ranking military commander, and they believed Omar might know him.
"What do you need from me?" Omar asked, his voice steady but curious.
Abo Bilal's gaze was unyielding. "We need you to watch him. He's been seen with your uncle. Get close, listen, observe—anything you find, no matter how small, you report it to me."
Omar hesitated. "What kind of information are you looking for?"
"Anything," Abo Bilal replied. "Movements, meetings, habits—whatever you learn, you tell me. Nothing is too simple."
The weight of the task settled over Omar, but Abo Bilal's tone left no room for refusal. The request was clear—spy on the commander and bring back every detail, no matter how insignificant it seemed.
_____
After his meeting with Abo Bilal, Omar went home.It was the weekend, and his sister was out with her friends. Maher had gotten better but was still staying with him. Maher picked up the phone and dialed his parents.
"Hello?" his mother's voice came through, warm and familiar.
"It's me," Maher said, forcing lightness into his tone. "Just calling to let you know I'm on a mission at a remote base. I'll be back soon."
"Again?"* His mother sighed. "You said you're coming back a week ago. Can't they give you a break?"
"It's nothing serious," he lied. "Just routine. I'll call when I can."
He hung up before she could ask more. His wounds hadn't fully healed yet, and he didn't want his parents to see him like this. Not yet, he thought.
Omar and Hasan still didn't know what had really happened to Maher, but Hasan had his suspicions. The first time he treated Maher's wounds, his hands had stilled when he saw the scars—especially the cigarette burns on his back. He never said it aloud, but his silence spoke volumes.
Now, Hasan came twice a week to check on him. But one evening, he didn't show up at his usual time. Instead, he arrived late at night, his clothes smeared with dirt and coal, his face drawn with exhaustion.
Maher was the first to notice. "Hasan? What happened to you?"
Omar looked up from the couch. "You look like you've been digging graves."
Hasan waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Just… a cat."
"A cat?" Omar raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Hasan muttered, avoiding their eyes as he set down his medical bag. "Poor thing got stuck in a tree. I climbed up to get it, fell, but still managed to save the poor little kitten."
Maher and Omar exchanged a glance. The lie was so obvious it was almost insulting.
"Must've been one hell of a tree," Omar said dryly.
Hasan didn't answer. He just pulled out fresh bandages, his movements rougher than usual. "Let's just get this over with."
"Have you eaten, Hasan? Would you like a sandwich?" Omar asked.
Hasan looked Omar in the eye, his gaze sharp. "A sandwich? You just said that I look like I'd been digging a grave, and the best thing you could think of is to offer me a sandwich? No, I don't want a sandwich—I'm so damn hungry I want real dinner!"
Maher, who had been in a gloomy mood since he arrived, giggled, which took both Omar and Hasan by surprise. Then he said, "You never change, Hasan. You better feed him, Omar, or you'll never hear the end of it. He wouldn't let me forget about the broken mixer I got him to this day."
"Oh, so you finally admit that it was broken!" Hasan exclaimed.
"No, I didn't say that. It wasn't broken—you broke it because you didn't know how to use it, and you kept blaming it on me," Maher replied.
They kept bickering and arguing, and Omar couldn't help but laugh at them. The sight warmed his heart, and he was glad that Hasan was here with them. He was the only person in the world who could take Maher's mind away from his pain, the only one who could drag him out of the shadows of despair. And he knew that, slowly, he would get him to talk and open up to them.
________
Ma'moon and Ameen had just arrived at the revolutionists' hideout after being escorted back by Vivy and her team. The safe house buzzed with relief as Abo Bilal and the other fighters gathered around the two young men.
Abo Bilal stepped forward, clapping Ma'moon on the shoulder. "Alhamdulliah you're both safe! We thought we'd lost you when General Maddah's men swept through the neighborhood."
Ma'moon, still visibly shaken from the ordeal, managed a tired smile. "We were lucky. An elderly couple hid us in their home - in a small storage room behind their kitchen."
One of the fighters, a burly man named Tamim, shook his head in disbelief. "That whole area was crawling with soldiers. How did they keep you hidden?"
"It was terrifying," Ma'moon admitted, rubbing his hands together nervously. "We could hear the soldiers searching house to house. The old lady made us hide in a small storage room behind the fridge. The wife kept calm the entire time, even when the soldiers questioned her."
Abo Bilal turned to Ameen, noticing the fresh bandages on his arm. "And your injuries? You weren't wounded when you got separated from us."
Ameen's eyes lit up with something like wonder. "An angel treated me," he said softly. When the others exchanged skeptical looks, he insisted, "No, really! After the old couple took us in, a man came - a nurse, I think. He had the gentlest hands I've ever felt. Fixed my arm without causing any pain."
Ma'moon nodded in agreement. "He came after curfew, risking his life. Didn't even tell us his name."
Abo Bilal stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Allah sends help in mysterious ways. These people risked everything for strangers."
Vivy, who had been leaning against the doorway, spoke up. "We found them because the old woman came to the market and whispered to one of our contacts about 'two lost lambs.' She was too scared to lead us directly to her house."
Ameen looked down at his bandaged arm, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll never forget their kindness. That nurse... he told me that as long as there are people willing to help strangers, there's still hope for this country."
The room fell silent for a moment before Abo Bilal broke the quiet. "We must remember this when the time comes to fight for our country again. Now rest, both of you. You've earned it."
As the group dispersed, Ma'moon and Ameen exchanged a glance - both knowing they had witnessed the kindness of their people, Which motivated them more than ever to fight for the freedom of their nation.