A convoy of about ten breathtakingly beautiful luxury vehicles slowly and elegantly emerged from the airport tarmac where the private jet had just landed. It was a magnificent sight to behold.
* **The First Car:** Carried Uncle AY (the Chiroma) alongside the Chiroma of Zazzau.
* **The Second Car:** Carried His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas and King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab. They sat in the back, each adorned in the distinct, majestic royal regalia of their respective emirates, conversing in low, dignified tones.
* **The Third Car:** Carried Waziri (the Dad), Crown Prince Yashim Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab, and Junaid in the front seat, who was also elegantly dressed in royal attire.
* **The Fourth Car:** Carried Crown Prince Zunaiddeen Abdul-Jabbar Abbas (Zain) and his new bride, Du’a Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab.
Du’a looked stunningly beautiful in a pristine white, custom royal jalabiya. She was the spitting image of her father, King Al-Khasim. The pure joy of being with Zain radiated from her face.
Zain turned slowly to look at her. As their eyes met, she shyly looked down. Smiling, he gently nudged her nose and teased, *"Weren't you the one crying before I arrived? Should I just head back then?"*
She looked at him pleadingly and whispered, *"I'm sorry, Kalb (my heart). It’s just that pure happiness stole my words away."*
He took her hand, his eyes drawn to the intricate, dark patterns of the henna adorning her skin. *"It’s beautiful,"* he said. *"What do you call this?"*
Du’a smiled warmly. *"We call it Henna."*
*"Henna?"* he repeated.
*"Yes, In sha Allah,"* she replied.
He nodded appreciatively. *"It looks expensive. I like it."*
A small, shy smile played on Du’a’s lips. She was deeply modest; all the playful confidence she usually showed him had only ever been over the phone. *"I actually had it done just for you,"* she admitted.
Zain raised an eyebrow. *"Really??"*
*"In sha Allah,"* she confirmed.
Zain noticed how seamlessly the name of Allah flowed from her lips, which brought a warm sense of contentment to his heart. He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it gently, and said, *"Thank you, Sweetheart."*
*"It is my pleasure,"* she replied. Then, her expression softened with concern. *"Is there still no news regarding our brother?"*
Zain fell silent for a long moment before replying heavily, *"None yet. But I know in my heart he is somewhere out there, safe and sound. Please, join me in praying for him."*
*"In sha Allah,"* she murmured.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, his hand holding hers firmly until the convoy finally arrived at the Zazzau Emirate.
The palace was breathtakingly grand, with every arrangement executed to flawless perfection. Yet, even with its immense grandeur, the Bilhira Emirate still surpassed Zazzau in sheer opulence and structure. As they entered the palace gates, the traditional royal drums (*tambari*) boomed and the wind instruments (*algaita*) wailed, echoing a grand welcome for His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas. This marked his historic first official visit to the Zazzau kingdom.
They were ushered into a lavishly furnished reception hall, where an array of refreshments was immediately set before them. Zain, feeling drained by the overwhelming noise and grand reception, excused himself and retreated into a quiet bedroom, desperate for some rest.
Throughout the evening, Du'a waited broad awake for Zain to wake up, but he remained fast asleep, exhausted from the journey. The grand Northern royal wedding festivities were slated to officially commence the following morning.
Later that night, the wives of King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab arrived to pay their respects to His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas.
During the conversation, Abdul-Jabbar looked at Fulani Bilkisu and asked, *"Is there any update regarding the missing Crown Prince?"*
She lowered her gaze sadly. *"Only prayers, Your Highness. We still have no news of his whereabouts."*
The King nodded solemnly. *"May Allah grant clarity and return him to us in absolute safety."*
King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab sighed deeply. *"Uhm... I honestly doubt he is still alive."*
Fulani Kilishi quickly countered, *"May Allah protect the King. We must hold onto hope that he is safe, especially since he was just a young child when the abduction occurred."*
Unable to bear the painful topic any longer, Fulani Bilkisu quietly stood up and excused herself from the room.
Meanwhile, Crown Prince Yashim walked in front, while Junaid and Zain followed closely behind. They were returning from a formal visit to Zain’s new in-laws. Word had reached them that a grand royal horse parade (*kilisa*) was scheduled immediately after the wedding ceremony. Zain smiled faintly to himself, realizing it had been so long since he last rode a horse that he had practically forgotten how.
THE ZAHEL EMIRATE: DARK PLOTS AND FAITH
Inside the grand Zahel Palace, King Mabus sat with his eyes locked firmly on Ayyana, whose face, as usual, remained partially veiled.
He looked at her coldly and said, *"I will tolerate no mistakes this time. Our target is currently in New York, and that is exactly where we need to go."*
Ayyana merely stared back at him. Knowing she rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, he continued, *"Pay close attention. Actually, there is no need to worry; I will be traveling with you. I will leave everything in Subash's hands until I return."*
This time, she simply offered a slow nod. Mabus rose and left the room, her gaze trailing after him. Once he was gone, she turned back to her routine, softly chanting her usual melodies.
Meanwhile, Subash hurried down to the dark palace dungeons, suddenly remembering the "property" he had locked away and neglected.
Upon arriving at the cell, he found Sairah in the middle of her Islamic prayers. A wave of anger washed over him. As the guards unlocked the iron door, he stepped inside with the full intention of striking her down. But the moment he drew near, an inexplicable force root him to the spot, making him completely unable to lay a finger on her.
He stood there, frozen and watching, until she concluded her prayers.
He glared down at her. She had grown incredibly frail and dark from the harsh conditions of the dungeon. *"What on earth were you just doing?"* he demanded.
She adjusted her posture and looked up at him calmly. *"I was performing Sallah,"* she replied.
*"And what is the point of that?"*
Sairah took a breath and explained steadily, *"Sallah—derived from the Arabic word 'Salah' (plural: Salawat), also known as Namaz in other languages—is one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is a mandatory act of faith required of every single Muslim, both male and female, to foster Taqwa (the consciousness of Allah). It is a physical, mental, and spiritual act of worship performed five times a day at strictly prescribed times.
When performing it, one must face the holy land of Mecca. Structurally, the worshiper stands, bows (*ruku*), prostrates (*sujada*), and concludes the ritual while sitting on the ground. During each unit of prayer (*raka'at*), the worshiper recites specific verses from the Holy Qur'an, praises Allah, and offers supplications. While the word 'Sallah' is often translated generally as worship, its literal meaning denotes connection and prayer. This is why Muslims use the specific term 'Du'a' when referring to personal supplications, requests, or invoking blessings from Allah."*
Subash stood in absolute silence, absorbing her words. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the dungeon. However, after walking a short distance down the corridor, he stopped, turned back to the guards, and commanded, *"Unchain her."*
ABEED'S CRISIS: THE ASFIXIATING SMOKE
Abeed pulled his car into the courtyard of his residence. He glanced at the dashboard clock: it was 9:30 PM. He closed his eyes heavily, entirely drained by the exhausting day. He was just relieved to have finalized his responsibilities. The lyrics of a song he was working on kept looping through his mind, capturing every emotion he wanted to express.
He stepped out of the vehicle, draped his suit jacket over his arm, and walked briskly to escape the piercing, freezing night air.
The moment he stepped into the main living room, he froze. A pungent, overpowering stench of cooking gas hit him, accompanied by the muffled, terrified screams and cries of Sara echoing from the back.
In a panic, he dropped his suit jacket. He couldn't comprehend how a gas leak had occurred in the house. He rushed frantically from one section of the house to another. As he approached the kitchen wing, he saw thick billows of smoke pouring out, and the smell of gas grew dangerously suffocating.
*"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihir raji'un (To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return),"* he muttered, his entire body trembling with fear. He lunged into the smoke-filled kitchen, shouting, *"Saaaaa..."* He choked, then called out louder, *"Sairah! Where are you? I'm here to save you!"*
Hearing Abeed’s voice, Sara emerged from her hiding spot, her entire body shaking violently from pure terror. The moment she saw him, she ran toward him. He rushed to meet her, opening his arms wide and crying, *"Saaaaaa..."*
Abeed collapsed to his knees on the floor, gasping, *"Thank God."* He desperately scanned Sara from head to toe as she stood before him, trembling and squeezing her eyes shut in sheer fright. He placed his hands on her face, checking her thoroughly, then turned her around to ensure she hadn't sustained a single injury.
A profound wave of relief washed over him, and he offered silent prayers of gratitude. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive it if anything ever happened to his Sara.
Standing up, he grabbed her hand to lead her out, but the sharp stench of gas suddenly reminded him of the imminent danger. The concentration was reaching a flashpoint; it was about to explode.
He quickly let go of her hand and ordered sharply, *"Out! Run!"*
She took a few hesitant steps, then turned back, tears streaming down her face. *"What about you? What if I leave you?"* she sobbed.
His eyes widened in frustration. For a moment, he couldn't even find his voice. Then he snapped, *"You don't need to worry about me! Just go!"*
Sara burst into loud cries. *"But you're going to get burned alive!"*
Furious and terrified for her safety, Abeed turned toward her aggressively as if to strike her just to force her out. Sara shrieked and shielded her body.
He took a ragged breath and ordered, *"Saaaaa, LEAVE!"*
She finally ran out, weeping bitterly. Abeed turned back to face the gas cylinder. He rushed forward, quickly twisted the valve to shut it off, and threw open every single window in the kitchen. He used one hand to tightly cover his nose against the suffocating mixture of smoke and gas.
His eyes fell upon a packet of instant noodles on the counter. It was obvious she had tried to cook them and had accidentally triggered this near-fatal disaster.
As he moved closer, he noticed a pool of blood on the counter next to a knife and some chopped onions. *Had she cut herself?* He opened his mouth to call out, but in doing so, he inadvertently inhaled a massive lungful of the toxic, heavy smoke.
Instantly, the air was cut off from his lungs. His respiratory tract seized completely, leaving him suffocating as if his very soul was being ripped from his body. Within seconds, his eyes turned completely bloodshot and began to bulge from the sheer lack of oxygen. The intense freezing weather of the night only aggravated his sudden, severe asthma attack.
Stumbling backward, he collapsed against the kitchen sink. He tightly clutched his chest as an unendurable, indescribable agony ripped through his torso. He struggled desperately for what felt like an eternity, trying to force a single breath into his lungs, his chest heaving violently.
He cried out the name of Allah over and over in his mind. He knew that if Zain were with him, he would have handed him his life-saving inhaler immediately. But now, he didn't even know where it was kept.
Tears of pure agony streamed from his eyes. With the absolute last vestige of his strength, he dragged his heavy, failing body out of the kitchen, clutching his convulsing chest. He collapsed heavily onto the living room carpet, burying his face into the floor, the veins on his neck and forehead bulging dangerously.
Sara, who was hiding behind the dark frame of the door, watched him with wide, tear-filled eyes. To her, Abeed was her entire world, and seeing him on the brink of death shattered her completely. Breaking into frantic tears, she rushed to his side and knelt down, trying to look at his face. His fair complexion had turned a frightening shade of purple-red, and his eyes were swollen and unfocused.
*"Uhm... Am... Are you alright?"* she stammered in terror.
Abeed remained completely silent. It wasn't that he couldn't hear her; he was simply locked in a mortal struggle for his next breath and didn't know if he would survive the next few minutes.
Her sobbing intensified. *"You're not well! Are you sick?"* she cried, desperately touching his neck to check for a fever, but his skin felt clammy and cold. She stood up frantically, completely lost on what to do, though a strange, divine calm was beginning to settle over her mind. She ran toward the main exit, only to find the heavy security doors locked tight.
Terrified, she sprinted back to the living room, finding him lying completely still, his eyes closed, his body shivering violently, and his chest collapsing up and down in a shallow, erratic rhythm.
She threw herself on the floor in front of him, watching him struggle for air. *"Twin... open your eyes, please! It's me, I'm talking to you!"* she wept, placing her hand on his chest.
As if he had been waiting for her touch, Abeed’s hand shot out and gripped her palm with a fierce, iron-clad desperation. His hand felt blazing hot, drenched in cold sweat. He slowly forced his swollen, bloodshot eyes open to look at her. He tried to part his lips to speak, but his eyes rolled back, threatening unconsciousness. His chest felt completely constricted—a severe case of chest tightness—and his breathing produced a loud, frantic whistling sound.
Abeed simply stared into her eyes. He knew she was too naive to understand the medical gravity of an acute asthma attack, let alone know how to treat it. Slowly, his eyes closed again as his respiration began to fail entirely, though his hand maintained its death grip on hers.
Sara sat over him, her face flushed red as tears flowed freely. She adjusted her posture and stretched out her legs. Sensing her movement, Abeed weakly shifted his head and rested it directly on her lap.
Looking up at the ceiling from her lap, he let out a long, ragged gasp, a single tear slipping down his temple. Sara shook him frantically, crying out, *"Twin... Twin... are you trying to sleep? Open your eyes! Are you crying because it hurts so much? What should I do? Should I just keep crying with you?"*
She tried to pull her hand away from his grip, but he held her firmly. As she leaned down, her veil brushing against his face, Abeed suddenly raised his other hand and placed it firmly behind her neck, pulling her face down flat against his.
With his eyes tightly shut and his body shivering, he aligned her lips directly with his. Gently but firmly, he forced his mouth open, drawing her small lips into his own. Sara’s eyes widened in sheer shock and confusion; this was an entirely unprecedented intimacy for her, and though she didn't fully comprehend it, she instinctively felt it was inappropriate.
Abeed held her there. In his suffocating state, he was desperately hoping she would exhale into his mouth so he could inhale her oxygen to jumpstart his failing lungs and stabilize his breathing. But in her confusion, she remained perfectly still.
Acting on survival instinct, Abeed took the hand holding hers, pressed it flat against her abdomen, and squeezed her waist with immense pressure. The sudden, sharp pain made Sara gasp loudly, forcing a massive exhalation directly into Abeed’s mouth.
Simultaneously, Abeed’s chest expanded powerfully as he successfully drawn her breath deep into his lungs. Almost instantly, a heavy sweat broke out across his forehead.
Sara, feeling a sharp cramp in her stomach from the pressure, tried frantically to pull her mouth away, but Abeed clamped his jaw gently, holding her in place. He pressed her waist once more, prompting another deep exhalation, and his lungs expanded further. Recognizing the relief it brought him, Sara began to rhythmically breathe heavily into his mouth.
This desperate act of resuscitation saved Abeed. Slowly, the violent tremors wracking his body subsided. He opened his eyes and gazed up at her face. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her tears were falling directly onto his cheeks. He lay there on her lap for a long time, watching her silently, until the sheer physical exhaustion from the trauma finally pulled him into a deep, restorative sleep.
Feeling the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, Sara finally opened her eyes and pulled her face away. She stared down at him, a profound sense of pity and tenderness filling her heart. Still resting on her lap, she too succumbed to exhaustion and fell fast asleep.
The first call to the dawn prayer (*Subhi*) echoed through the quiet morning, causing Abeed to stir. A splitting headache throbbed behind his eyes. He slowly forced his heavy, exhausted eyes open. Murmuring the morning supplications under his breath, he looked around and was stunned to find himself lying on the living room carpet—something he had never done in his entire life.
He moved his hand to his chest and realized it was resting beneath Sara's hand. He turned his head slightly and saw her curled up fast asleep beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, her hand draped over his heart.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them to look at her again. Without making a single sound, he gently slid away from her and sat up, his entire body aching from the ordeal. After a few moments, he stood up. He stared down at her, turned to leave, but then paused. He carefully bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and placed her gently onto the comfortable sofa, brushing the stray hairs away from her face.
He walked quietly into his bedroom, stripped off his ruined clothes, and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting the water cascade over his body. He let out a long, peaceful sigh as his breathing returned to its perfect, calm rhythm. He switched the controls to warm water to soothe his aching muscles, thoroughly washed his hair, and wrapped himself in a plush bathrobe.
Back in his bedroom, he dressed in a soft, flowing silk jalabiya. He spread out his prayer mat, performed the two voluntary units of dawn prayer (*Raka'atul Fajr*), and then observed the mandatory Subhi prayer. After completing his morning remembrance (*azkar*), he checked his phone briefly, turned it off, and used the remote control to shut off the air conditioner and switch on the room heater.
He slipped out of the jalabiya, remaining in only his boxers, and climbed into bed, pulling a thick, warm duvet over himself. As the soothing warmth enveloped his body, thoughts of Zain crossed his mind. *Tomorrow is the royal wedding of my twin brother, and yet I am not there by his side. What kind of life is this?* The thought of their father (*Abba*) flashed next, but he immediately suppressed it as
.
THE ROYAL ASSEMBLY: KATSINA AND ZAZZAU
A convoy of about ten breathtakingly beautiful luxury vehicles slowly and elegantly emerged from the airport tarmac where the private jet had just landed. It was a magnificent sight to behold.
* **The First Car:** Carried Uncle AY (the Chiroma) alongside the Chiroma of Zazzau.
* **The Second Car:** Carried His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas and King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab. They sat in the back, each adorned in the distinct, majestic royal regalia of their respective emirates, conversing in low, dignified tones.
* **The Third Car:** Carried Waziri (the Dad), Crown Prince Yashim Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab, and Junaid in the front seat, who was also elegantly dressed in royal attire.
* **The Fourth Car:** Carried Crown Prince Zunaiddeen Abdul-Jabbar Abbas (Zain) and his new bride, Du’a Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab.
Du’a looked stunningly beautiful in a pristine white, custom royal jalabiya. She was the spitting image of her father, King Al-Khasim. The pure joy of being with Zain radiated from her face.
Zain turned slowly to look at her. As their eyes met, she shyly looked down. Smiling, he gently nudged her nose and teased, *"Weren't you the one crying before I arrived? Should I just head back then?"*
She looked at him pleadingly and whispered, *"I'm sorry, Kalb (my heart). It’s just that pure happiness stole my words away."*
He took her hand, his eyes drawn to the intricate, dark patterns of the henna adorning her skin. *"It’s beautiful,"* he said. *"What do you call this?"*
Du’a smiled warmly. *"We call it Henna."*
*"Henna?"* he repeated.
*"Yes, In sha Allah,"* she replied.
He nodded appreciatively. *"It looks expensive. I like it."*
A small, shy smile played on Du’a’s lips. She was deeply modest; all the playful confidence she usually showed him had only ever been over the phone. *"I actually had it done just for you,"* she admitted.
Zain raised an eyebrow. *"Really??"*
*"In sha Allah,"* she confirmed.
Zain noticed how seamlessly the name of Allah flowed from her lips, which brought a warm sense of contentment to his heart. He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it gently, and said, *"Thank you, Sweetheart."*
*"It is my pleasure,"* she replied. Then, her expression softened with concern. *"Is there still no news regarding our brother?"*
Zain fell silent for a long moment before replying heavily, *"None yet. But I know in my heart he is somewhere out there, safe and sound. Please, join me in praying for him."*
*"In sha Allah,"* she murmured.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, his hand holding hers firmly until the convoy finally arrived at the Zazzau Emirate.
The palace was breathtakingly grand, with every arrangement executed to flawless perfection. Yet, even with its immense grandeur, the Bilhira Emirate still surpassed Zazzau in sheer opulence and structure. As they entered the palace gates, the traditional royal drums (*tambari*) boomed and the wind instruments (*algaita*) wailed, echoing a grand welcome for His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas. This marked his historic first official visit to the Zazzau kingdom.
They were ushered into a lavishly furnished reception hall, where an array of refreshments was immediately set before them. Zain, feeling drained by the overwhelming noise and grand reception, excused himself and retreated into a quiet bedroom, desperate for some rest.
Throughout the evening, Du'a waited broad awake for Zain to wake up, but he remained fast asleep, exhausted from the journey. The grand Northern royal wedding festivities were slated to officially commence the following morning.
Later that night, the wives of King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab arrived to pay their respects to His Royal Highness Abdul-Jabbar Abbas.
During the conversation, Abdul-Jabbar looked at Fulani Bilkisu and asked, *"Is there any update regarding the missing Crown Prince?"*
She lowered her gaze sadly. *"Only prayers, Your Highness. We still have no news of his whereabouts."*
The King nodded solemnly. *"May Allah grant clarity and return him to us in absolute safety."*
King Al-Khasim Abubakar Wahab sighed deeply. *"Uhm... I honestly doubt he is still alive."*
Fulani Kilishi quickly countered, *"May Allah protect the King. We must hold onto hope that he is safe, especially since he was just a young child when the abduction occurred."*
Unable to bear the painful topic any longer, Fulani Bilkisu quietly stood up and excused herself from the room.
Meanwhile, Crown Prince Yashim walked in front, while Junaid and Zain followed closely behind. They were returning from a formal visit to Zain’s new in-laws. Word had reached them that a grand royal horse parade (*kilisa*) was scheduled immediately after the wedding ceremony. Zain smiled faintly to himself, realizing it had been so long since he last rode a horse that he had practically forgotten how.
THE ZAHEL EMIRATE: DARK PLOTS AND FAITH
Inside the grand Zahel Palace, King Mabus sat with his eyes locked firmly on Ayyana, whose face, as usual, remained partially veiled.
He looked at her coldly and said, *"I will tolerate no mistakes this time. Our target is currently in New York, and that is exactly where we need to go."*
Ayyana merely stared back at him. Knowing she rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, he continued, *"Pay close attention. Actually, there is no need to worry; I will be traveling with you. I will leave everything in Subash's hands until I return."*
This time, she simply offered a slow nod. Mabus rose and left the room, her gaze trailing after him. Once he was gone, she turned back to her routine, softly chanting her usual melodies.
Meanwhile, Subash hurried down to the dark palace dungeons, suddenly remembering the "property" he had locked away and neglected.
Upon arriving at the cell, he found Sairah in the middle of her Islamic prayers. A wave of anger washed over him. As the guards unlocked the iron door, he stepped inside with the full intention of striking her down. But the moment he drew near, an inexplicable force root him to the spot, making him completely unable to lay a finger on her.
He stood there, frozen and watching, until she concluded her prayers.
He glared down at her. She had grown incredibly frail and dark from the harsh conditions of the dungeon. *"What on earth were you just doing?"* he demanded.
She adjusted her posture and looked up at him calmly. *"I was performing Sallah,"* she replied.
*"And what is the point of that?"*
Sairah took a breath and explained steadily, *"Sallah—derived from the Arabic word 'Salah' (plural: Salawat), also known as Namaz in other languages—is one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is a mandatory act of faith required of every single Muslim, both male and female, to foster Taqwa (the consciousness of Allah). It is a physical, mental, and spiritual act of worship performed five times a day at strictly prescribed times.
When performing it, one must face the holy land of Mecca. Structurally, the worshiper stands, bows (*ruku*), prostrates (*sujada*), and concludes the ritual while sitting on the ground. During each unit of prayer (*raka'at*), the worshiper recites specific verses from the Holy Qur'an, praises Allah, and offers supplications. While the word 'Sallah' is often translated generally as worship, its literal meaning denotes connection and prayer. This is why Muslims use the specific term 'Du'a' when referring to personal supplications, requests, or invoking blessings from Allah."*
Subash stood in absolute silence, absorbing her words. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the dungeon. However, after walking a short distance down the corridor, he stopped, turned back to the guards, and commanded, *"Unchain her."*
ABEED'S CRISIS: THE ASFIXIATING SMOKE
Abeed pulled his car into the courtyard of his residence. He glanced at the dashboard clock: it was 9:30 PM. He closed his eyes heavily, entirely drained by the exhausting day. He was just relieved to have finalized his responsibilities. The lyrics of a song he was working on kept looping through his mind, capturing every emotion he wanted to express.
He stepped out of the vehicle, draped his suit jacket over his arm, and walked briskly to escape the piercing, freezing night air.
The moment he stepped into the main living room, he froze. A pungent, overpowering stench of cooking gas hit him, accompanied by the muffled, terrified screams and cries of Sara echoing from the back.
In a panic, he dropped his suit jacket. He couldn't comprehend how a gas leak had occurred in the house. He rushed frantically from one section of the house to another. As he approached the kitchen wing, he saw thick billows of smoke pouring out, and the smell of gas grew dangerously suffocating.
*"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihir raji'un (To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return),"* he muttered, his entire body trembling with fear. He lunged into the smoke-filled kitchen, shouting, *"Saaaaa..."* He choked, then called out louder, *"Sairah! Where are you? I'm here to save you!"*
Hearing Abeed’s voice, Sara emerged from her hiding spot, her entire body shaking violently from pure terror. The moment she saw him, she ran toward him. He rushed to meet her, opening his arms wide and crying, *"Saaaaaa..."*
Abeed collapsed to his knees on the floor, gasping, *"Thank God."* He desperately scanned Sara from head to toe as she stood before him, trembling and squeezing her eyes shut in sheer fright. He placed his hands on her face, checking her thoroughly, then turned her around to ensure she hadn't sustained a single injury.
A profound wave of relief washed over him, and he offered silent prayers of gratitude. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive it if anything ever happened to his Sara.
Standing up, he grabbed her hand to lead her out, but the sharp stench of gas suddenly reminded him of the imminent danger. The concentration was reaching a flashpoint; it was about to explode.
He quickly let go of her hand and ordered sharply, *"Out! Run!"*
She took a few hesitant steps, then turned back, tears streaming down her face. *"What about you? What if I leave you?"* she sobbed.
His eyes widened in frustration. For a moment, he couldn't even find his voice. Then he snapped, *"You don't need to worry about me! Just go!"*
Sara burst into loud cries. *"But you're going to get burned alive!"*
Furious and terrified for her safety, Abeed turned toward her aggressively as if to strike her just to force her out. Sara shrieked and shielded her body.
He took a ragged breath and ordered, *"Saaaaa, LEAVE!"*
She finally ran out, weeping bitterly. Abeed turned back to face the gas cylinder. He rushed forward, quickly twisted the valve to shut it off, and threw open every single window in the kitchen. He used one hand to tightly cover his nose against the suffocating mixture of smoke and gas.
His eyes fell upon a packet of instant noodles on the counter. It was obvious she had tried to cook them and had accidentally triggered this near-fatal disaster.
As he moved closer, he noticed a pool of blood on the counter next to a knife and some chopped onions. *Had she cut herself?* He opened his mouth to call out, but in doing so, he inadvertently inhaled a massive lungful of the toxic, heavy smoke.
Instantly, the air was cut off from his lungs. His respiratory tract seized completely, leaving him suffocating as if his very soul was being ripped from his body. Within seconds, his eyes turned completely bloodshot and began to bulge from the sheer lack of oxygen. The intense freezing weather of the night only aggravated his sudden, severe asthma attack.
Stumbling backward, he collapsed against the kitchen sink. He tightly clutched his chest as an unendurable, indescribable agony ripped through his torso. He struggled desperately for what felt like an eternity, trying to force a single breath into his lungs, his chest heaving violently.
He cried out the name of Allah over and over in his mind. He knew that if Zain were with him, he would have handed him his life-saving inhaler immediately. But now, he didn't even know where it was kept.
Tears of pure agony streamed from his eyes. With the absolute last vestige of his strength, he dragged his heavy, failing body out of the kitchen, clutching his convulsing chest. He collapsed heavily onto the living room carpet, burying his face into the floor, the veins on his neck and forehead bulging dangerously.
Sara, who was hiding behind the dark frame of the door, watched him with wide, tear-filled eyes. To her, Abeed was her entire world, and seeing him on the brink of death shattered her completely. Breaking into frantic tears, she rushed to his side and knelt down, trying to look at his face. His fair complexion had turned a frightening shade of purple-red, and his eyes were swollen and unfocused.
*"Uhm... Am... Are you alright?"* she stammered in terror.
Abeed remained completely silent. It wasn't that he couldn't hear her; he was simply locked in a mortal struggle for his next breath and didn't know if he would survive the next few minutes.
Her sobbing intensified. *"You're not well! Are you sick?"* she cried, desperately touching his neck to check for a fever, but his skin felt clammy and cold. She stood up frantically, completely lost on what to do, though a strange, divine calm was beginning to settle over her mind. She ran toward the main exit, only to find the heavy security doors locked tight.
Terrified, she sprinted back to the living room, finding him lying completely still, his eyes closed, his body shivering violently, and his chest collapsing up and down in a shallow, erratic rhythm.
She threw herself on the floor in front of him, watching him struggle for air. *"Twin... open your eyes, please! It's me, I'm talking to you!"* she wept, placing her hand on his chest.
As if he had been waiting for her touch, Abeed’s hand shot out and gripped her palm with a fierce, iron-clad desperation. His hand felt blazing hot, drenched in cold sweat. He slowly forced his swollen, bloodshot eyes open to look at her. He tried to part his lips to speak, but his eyes rolled back, threatening unconsciousness. His chest felt completely constricted—a severe case of chest tightness—and his breathing produced a loud, frantic whistling sound.
Abeed simply stared into her eyes. He knew she was too naive to understand the medical gravity of an acute asthma attack, let alone know how to treat it. Slowly, his eyes closed again as his respiration began to fail entirely, though his hand maintained its death grip on hers.
Sara sat over him, her face flushed red as tears flowed freely. She adjusted her posture and stretched out her legs. Sensing her movement, Abeed weakly shifted his head and rested it directly on her lap.
Looking up at the ceiling from her lap, he let out a long, ragged gasp, a single tear slipping down his temple. Sara shook him frantically, crying out, *"Twin... Twin... are you trying to sleep? Open your eyes! Are you crying because it hurts so much? What should I do? Should I just keep crying with you?"*
She tried to pull her hand away from his grip, but he held her firmly. As she leaned down, her veil brushing against his face, Abeed suddenly raised his other hand and placed it firmly behind her neck, pulling her face down flat against his.
With his eyes tightly shut and his body shivering, he aligned her lips directly with his. Gently but firmly, he forced his mouth open, drawing her small lips into his own. Sara’s eyes widened in sheer shock and confusion; this was an entirely unprecedented intimacy for her, and though she didn't fully comprehend it, she instinctively felt it was inappropriate.
Abeed held her there. In his suffocating state, he was desperately hoping she would exhale into his mouth so he could inhale her oxygen to jumpstart his failing lungs and stabilize his breathing. But in her confusion, she remained perfectly still.
Acting on survival instinct, Abeed took the hand holding hers, pressed it flat against her abdomen, and squeezed her waist with immense pressure. The sudden, sharp pain made Sara gasp loudly, forcing a massive exhalation directly into Abeed’s mouth.
Simultaneously, Abeed’s chest expanded powerfully as he successfully drawn her breath deep into his lungs. Almost instantly, a heavy sweat broke out across his forehead.
Sara, feeling a sharp cramp in her stomach from the pressure, tried frantically to pull her mouth away, but Abeed clamped his jaw gently, holding her in place. He pressed her waist once more, prompting another deep exhalation, and his lungs expanded further. Recognizing the relief it brought him, Sara began to rhythmically breathe heavily into his mouth.
This desperate act of resuscitation saved Abeed. Slowly, the violent tremors wracking his body subsided. He opened his eyes and gazed up at her face. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her tears were falling directly onto his cheeks. He lay there on her lap for a long time, watching her silently, until the sheer physical exhaustion from the trauma finally pulled him into a deep, restorative sleep.
Feeling the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, Sara finally opened her eyes and pulled her face away. She stared down at him, a profound sense of pity and tenderness filling her heart. Still resting on her lap, she too succumbed to exhaustion and fell fast asleep.
The first call to the dawn prayer (*Subhi*) echoed through the quiet morning, causing Abeed to stir. A splitting headache throbbed behind his eyes. He slowly forced his heavy, exhausted eyes open. Murmuring the morning supplications under his breath, he looked around and was stunned to find himself lying on the living room carpet—something he had never done in his entire life.
He moved his hand to his chest and realized it was resting beneath Sara's hand. He turned his head slightly and saw her curled up fast asleep beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, her hand draped over his heart.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them to look at her again. Without making a single sound, he gently slid away from her and sat up, his entire body aching from the ordeal. After a few moments, he stood up. He stared down at her, turned to leave, but then paused. He carefully bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and placed her gently onto the comfortable sofa, brushing the stray hairs away from her face.
He walked quietly into his bedroom, stripped off his ruined clothes, and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting the water cascade over his body. He let out a long, peaceful sigh as his breathing returned to its perfect, calm rhythm. He switched the controls to warm water to soothe his aching muscles, thoroughly washed his hair, and wrapped himself in a plush bathrobe.
Back in his bedroom, he dressed in a soft, flowing silk jalabiya. He spread out his prayer mat, performed the two voluntary units of dawn prayer (*Raka'atul Fajr*), and then observed the mandatory Subhi prayer. After completing his morning remembrance (*azkar*), he checked his phone briefly, turned it off, and used the remote control to shut off the air conditioner and switch on the room heater.
He slipped out of the jalabiya, remaining in only his boxers, and climbed into bed, pulling a thick, warm duvet over himself. As the soothing warmth enveloped his body, thoughts of Zain crossed his mind. *Tomorrow is the royal wedding of my twin brother, and yet I am not there by his side. What kind of life is this?* The thought of their father (*Abba*) flashed next, but he immediately suppressed it as