Mariam had been praying all night. Months had passed since they took Hasan, yet she refused to lose hope. Between tears and whispered prayers she begged Allah, certain that someone like Hasan would find his way back. A soul as good as his would never be forsaken, Allah would save him.
Her mother-in-law entered the room and saw her deep in prayer. Quietly, she sat on the bed and waited until Mariam finished. When Mariam finally turned to her, she asked, "Why are you still awake?"
Her mother-in-law sighed. "The same reason you can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about Hasan. I spend every night praying for him."
Mariam kissed her hand gently. "I had a dream… and it left me with hope. We mustn't despair." She squeezed her mother-in-law's hand. "Stay with me. Let's pray together."
___
Maher had just returned from another protest. The police were as brutal as ever, rubber bullets, wastewater cannons, even threats of live ammunition. The streets were chaotic, as always, but he couldn't stop. Omar had told him that soon, they'd assign him to missions, and he needed to prepare. But sitting at home, waiting, wasn't an option. So he kept attending protests, doing what he could until his next orders came.
Exhausted, Maher dropped onto his back, staring at the ceiling before closing his eyes. On his way home, he had seen kids playing street football, their laughter and shouts ringing in the air. It reminded him so much of himself and his friends. He had always been the athletic one, the one everyone wanted on their team. But no matter what, he always chose Omar and Hasan's side.
Back then, he was the neighborhood's top scorer, Omar anchored their defense, and Hasan always the goalkeeper. They'd tell him to play forward, to score more, but he'd just shrug. "I don't mind being in goal," he'd say. "I like watching your backs. Feels like I'm protecting you."
Looking back now, Maher realized what a mature kid Hasan had been beneath the jokes, the silly comments, the playful tone. He was just a brave boy trying to get through life. And he had always been the bravest person Maher had ever known.
That's why he was determined to save him. No matter what.
---
Maher's phone buzzed against his chest, startling him awake. He squinted at the screen , it was Omar, He answered quickly.
"Where are you?" Maher asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Out of town with my sister," Omar replied, his tone light. "I'll be back soon."
Maher sat up, instantly alert. "Why? What's happening?"
"Nothing serious. Just a short trip." A brief pause. "Actually, could you check my house? I can't remember if I locked the door."
Maher frowned. Omar never forgot things like that. "You're calling me this late for that?"
"Just go," Omar said before ending the call.
---
Twenty minutes later, Maher stood outside Omar's apartment. The street was silent, the door slightly open. He really left it unlocked? Cautiously, he stepped inside and suddenly a strong arm yanked him into the darkness. Maher twisted, instinctively throwing an elbow back.
"Relax!" a deep voice muttered.
The lights flicked on. Two men stood in the room, their hands raised slightly as if to show they meant no harm. The one who had grabbed him a broad-shouldered man released his grip.
"What's going on?" Maher demanded, eyes darting between them.
One of the men handed him a phone. Omar's voice came through clearly: "They're on our side. Trust them."
The tallest of the group stepped forward. "I'm Ghazi," he said, then gestured to the man beside him. "This is Khalid. We work with Omar."
Khalid gave a small nod. "And you've been assigned to train with us."
Maher's breath caught. "For what?"
Ghazi's expression turned serious. "Because in two weeks, we move. And you're helping us free the prisoners."