"I hope you are not angry with me." Jibreel was sitting at the study table, reading, when he saw the room door open and Hameen enter. 

They exchanged a brief silent glance, after which Jibreel turned his attention back to his book. Hameen lay down on the bed and kept watching him. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"Angry?" Jibreel turned to him with some surprise. "Why?" Hameen sat up. He began the conversation cautiously.

"Did you overhear our conversation?" He seemed to be seeking confirmation before saying anything. Jibreel looked at him momentarily, then nodded, "Yes." Hameen's expression changed. A little embarrassment made him defensive.

"That's why I asked if you were upset with me," Hameen now slightly rephrased his question.

"No," Jibreel said in the same tone. Hameen got up from his bed and stood near him.

"But I was disappointed," Jibreel completed his sentence as Hameen came closer. Now leaning against the study table, Hameen said, "I didn't mean it like that. You're my brother, and I love you very much. Believe me, I'm not against you." He seemed to be trying to explain himself.

"I know," Jibreel interrupted him gently, lightly tapping his arm. "But you shouldn't have spoken to Dad like that. He was deeply hurt." Jibreel was now trying to make him understand.

"Do you think that he gives me more importance than you?" Hameen responded. "While I used to think he valued you more," Jibreel answered him thoughtfully. "For many years, it felt that way..." He left the sentence unfinished.

Hameen probed, curious, "Then what?"

"Then I grew up." Jibreel smiled. "And I realized that it's not true. He likes certain qualities in me more, and some in you, but he never differentiated between us. If he ever did, there must have been a reason." Jibreel, as the older brother, was now explaining things to him. Hameen listened quietly. When Jibreel finished, Hameen said, "I don't want you to drop out of university and go back to Pakistan. I'm not that selfish." He seemed to be explaining himself again. "I just want to stay here," he told Jibreel.

"No one thinks you're selfish, Hameen. It's your choice, and Dad is only trying to explain things to you because you're still young and can't stay here alone. Dad is very busy and sometimes doesn't come home for days. How will you stay alone with him? That's why he wanted you to go to Pakistan." Jibreel was cut off mid-sentence when Hameen spoke softly yet firmly.

"I don't want you to go to Pakistan. I don't want your studies to be affected. I'll go. Even though I'm not happy, I feel I can't stay here and upset everyone." Saying this, he went back to his bed. Jibreel felt he was troubled. 

He watched Hameen as he lay down and then said, "It's only a matter of a few years, Hameen. After that, Dad will call you back to America too... Then you can fulfill your dreams." Jibreel tried to comfort him.

"I don't dream," Hameen replied, pulling the blanket over himself. Jibreel watched him silently. It was hard to understand what was going on in Hameen's mind, not only for others but perhaps even for himself. Jibreel went back to studying at his table. He was home for the weekend, but tomorrow he had to leave again as his next semester was about to begin.

"Who will stay with Dad?" Jibreel's hand paused while writing on a piece of paper. He turned to look at Hameen, who was lying on the bed, and asked him this after nearly ten minutes, assuming he was asleep by then. 

But the question seemed to hit Hameen's thoughts like a jolt of electricity, reaching deep into his mind. He was quite deep. This wasn't about MIT or America. What was stopping Hameen from leaving was Salar's illness, which was compelling him not to leave him alone. He wanted to stay with his father without making it obvious that he was staying for him, out of concern. Just like Salar Sikandar worried about his father but never expressed it openly.

"You're staying because of Dad, aren't you?" Jibreel seemed to have revealed his secret. Hameen shifted under the blanket. Perhaps he hadn't expected his feelings to be exposed like this, but he didn't reply. He didn't even remove the blanket from his face, yet Jibreel kept watching him. 

Hameen Sikandar was like a rabbit, skilled at digging tunnels, jumping from one thought to another. He moved between his heart and mind in the blink of an eye, exploring places that few could understand. Jibreel Sikandar kept observing his younger brother, someone he often couldn't comprehend, and when he did, he began to doubt his understanding.

"Mummy! Erik wants to go to Pakistan with us." Imama, who was working in the kitchen, was startled. Anaya, who was helping her in the kitchen, suddenly said this while working. Imama turned her head to look at her face intently. Anaya wasn't paying attention; she was placing dishes in the dishwasher. "You know, Erik has written a letter to your father," Imama said, probing Anaya. 

She was startled while putting away a glass and looked at her mother, then said, "He must have talked to Papa about the same thing. He's been very upset for the past few days... every day, he's either asking me to take him with us or for me to stay behind." Her daughter had said this with utmost simplicity and resumed her work with the dishes. Imama was relieved when her suspicion turned out to be wrong.

 She wasn't aware of the letter's content. "I feel sorry for Erik," Anaya said while closing the dishwasher. Imama looked at her again while closing the kitchen cabinet; there was sympathy on Anaya's face, and apart from that, no other emotion, yet this sympathy also frightened Imama. "Why do you feel sorry for him?" Imama asked. "Because he's very lonely," Anaya replied. "Well, that's not true. He has a family. 

His mother, sister, brother, friends... so why is he lonely?" "But, Mummy, he's not as close to them as he is to us," Anaya defended him. "Well, that's his fault. He's the eldest; he should be taking care of his younger siblings.

" Imama seemed to be blaming Erik. "If Jibreel got attached to another family instead of his own and started feeling lonely, how would you feel?" Imama had posed a difficult question to her. Anaya was silent for a moment, then said in a very soft voice, "Mummy, not everyone is as fortunate as Jibreel.

" Imama felt a strange sting from her daughter's remark. Perhaps for the first time, her daughter was disagreeing with her mother's view and defending someone else, which unsettled Imama. "Erik is not a child, Anaya," Imama said sharply. 

"He's thirteen," she emphasized. Anaya looked at her mother in surprise, unable to understand the significance of the statement. The only thing Anaya could grasp was that her mother didn't like Erik being mentioned, but it was odd since Erik's name was frequently brought up in their house.

"Mummy, can I read Erik's letter?" Anaya unexpectedly asked while Imama thought she was regretting the conversation. "Hameen must have read it," Erik had once read a letter to him. "I think it's that letter," Anaya said, dropping a bombshell as she left the kitchen. "Hameen?" Imama couldn't believe it. 

"Yes, I saw Erik sitting with him, reading a letter. I think it's the same one since Erik has been consulting him about everything lately, but I'm not sure." Anaya expressed uncertainty about her assumptions. "Why is Hameen always behind every mischief?" Imama thought, gritting her teeth, forgetting what she was doing in the kitchen. 

She was now sure that it was Hameen who must have advised Erik on the letter, and her guess was correct. Erik had written the letter, and Hameen had edited it, adding some emotional lines and removing those that were too sentimental. Erik had brought a draft to him, without revealing that he wanted to write it to Salar Sikandar. 

He asked Hameen for help, saying he wanted to propose to a Muslim girlfriend and write a letter to her father. Hameen congratulated him. Erik told him that since he wasn't familiar with Muslim culture, he needed his help, and Hameen provided it.

 Mohammed Hameen Sikandar rewrote the letter, keeping in mind the delicacy of Muslim values. Erik not only thanked him but also informed him when Salar Sikandar invited him for a meeting. Hameen was beyond excited. He wanted to tell everyone about Erik's secret but had promised him not to, especially not to Anaya.

Anaya had tried probing him about this secret a day before, but Hameen had only said he was helping Erik with an important letter. Despite Anaya's questioning, he hadn't revealed who the letter was addressed to or what it contained. 

"I know who Erik wrote that letter for." Anaya went straight to Hameen after leaving Imama. He was busy playing a game on his computer when Anaya made her comment, and he clenched his teeth. "I knew he couldn't keep a secret. He told me not to tell anyone, especially not you, and now he's told you," Hameen said, annoyed, assuming Erik had spilled the secret.

"Erik didn't tell me; Mummy did." This time, Hameen forgot about his game. His hero jumped off a high cliff and fell into the sea because Hameen couldn't save him. He felt much the same way at that moment.

A day earlier, the decision to go to Pakistan had rekindled warmth in his relationship with his mother, and now this revelation... "What did Mummy say?" Hameen asked as if he had seen a ghost. "Mummy told me Erik wrote a letter to Papa, and I immediately thought the letter you were reading must be the same one." Anaya was explaining in a flow, while Hameen's mind was exploding.

 He felt like he was being drained of all his blood. How could Erik suddenly have a Muslim girlfriend for whose father he needed to write a letter? When he practically lived in their house, how had this not crossed his mind? Or had he been so blinded by excitement that he hadn't considered the possibility of Erik thinking this way about Anaya? Hameen was now blaming himself, and "blame" felt too small a word for what he felt toward both Erik and himself.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Anaya asked, noticing his silence. "I've decided to speak less and think more from now on," Hameen cleared his throat and delivered the surprising news. "Keep dreaming," he teased his younger brother. "Did Mummy tell you what's in the letter?" Hameen was now neck-deep in trouble. "No, but I told her it must have been written with Hameen's help." "I'll ask her what Erik wrote to Papa," Anaya said, now curious.

Erik was personally received at the door by Salar. It was the weekend, and their kids had gone out for cycling, so only Imama and Salar were home. "This is for you," Erik handed over a bouquet to him. Salar glanced at the flowers and was certain some of them had come from his lawn, but he let it pass. 

"This wasn't necessary," he said with a nod, inviting Erik inside. Erik had come for a formal meeting, and for the first time, Salar formally saw him. "Sit," Salar said, gesturing toward the lounge. Erik sat down, and Salar sat opposite him, opening an envelope on the table. Erik realized it was the same letter he had written, and seeing it in the hands of the person it was addressed to made him nervous. 

Sending the letter had been one thing, but seeing it in Salar's hands was another. Salar took about a minute and a half, then finished reading and looked at Erik. Erik nervously looked away. "Does Anaya know about this wish of yours?" Salar asked a direct question. "I promised Mrs. Salar I would never talk to Anaya about this, which is why I wrote to you," Erik answered. Salar nodded and said, "And that's the only reason I called you here.

 I didn't tear up your letter. You made a promise and kept it. That's a good quality," Salar said seriously, and Erik felt a bit reassured.

"So, you want to marry Anaya?" Salar placed the letter back on the table and kept his gaze on Erik. Erik nodded. "You also wrote that you're willing to convert because you know a Muslim girl can't marry a non-Muslim," Salar continued. Erik nodded again. "The first thing, Erik, is that converting to a religion just for the sake of marriage is a very shallow reason. Our religion allows it, but it doesn't encourage it," Salar said.

 "Do you have any reason to convert to Islam beyond wanting to marry my daughter?" Salar asked the next question. Erik remained silent, looking at his face. "Converting to a new religion is a major decision and shouldn't be done for the sake of a personal desire but should be based on reason. Does your reason tell you that you should become Muslim and live your life according to the commandments of Allah?" Salar asked. Erik faltered. "I haven't thought about it," he said.

"I assumed as much," Salar replied. "You should take the time to think thoroughly about it," he added. "I'll come back tomorrow," Erik said. "No, you should take years to reflect on why you want to become Muslim, and Anaya shouldn't be the reason," Salar said firmly. "I won't marry Anaya to anyone who's merely a Muslim by name. Whoever marries her must be a good person as well," he said. Erik's face suddenly filled with disappointment. "So you're rejecting my proposal?" he asked Salar.

"Not immediately, but maybe in ten years, when I have to think about Anaya's marriage, I'll consider you. But for that, you'll have to prove over those years that you're not only a good Muslim .

but also "Alright then, let's do this: let's make a ten-year agreement. If, at the age of twenty-three, you still feel that you want to marry Anaya, then I will let you marry her. The condition is that during these ten years, you not only become a good Muslim but also prove to be a good human being." Salar placed a plain piece of paper in front of him as he spoke.

"That's a long time," Erik said seriously.

"Yes, but it's enough time for your decisions to reflect your true character, not your immaturity," Salar replied. Erik continued to look at Salar silently for a while. Then, with calm composure, he said, "Mr. Salar Sikander, you don't trust me, do you? If you did, you wouldn't ask me to wait for ten years. But it's okay, I understand your position.

" He picked up a pen from the table, signed his name at the bottom of the blank paper, and added the date. Then, closing the pen, he placed it back on the table.

"I'm not fascinated by Anaya; I'm impressed by you and your family. Your wife's kindness and your adherence to principles. The values you've instilled in your children... and the atmosphere in this home, which makes me forget myself every time I visit. The religion you follow must be a great one if its followers are like you. 

I want to build a home with Anaya like this because I desire the same life for myself and my future children. I know it won't be easy to become part of your family... but I will keep trying because trying is what your religion, which will now be mine too, teaches. It's a religion of effort."

These were not the words of a mere thirteen-year-old, nor were they filled with the same intense emotions as his letter. Still, his words deeply affected both Salar and Imama. She had just entered the lounge moments earlier and only heard Erik's last sentences. Erik stood up, greeted Imama as usual, said goodbye, and then left. A strange silence enveloped the lounge.

After hearing the sound of the door closing, Imama walked forward. She picked up the piece of paper Erik had signed and saw that it only had one name written on it: 'Abdullah,' followed by a signature and the date. Imama looked at Salar, who reached out, took the paper from her hand, folded it, and placed it inside the envelope that held Erik's letter.

 Handing the envelope back to her, he said, "He will come back. And if I'm not here and he fulfills his promise, you must fulfill the promise I made to him." With trembling fingers, Imama took the envelope without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, Ayesha Abidin felt intrigued by a boy, and that boy was Jibreel Sikander. Despite living in Pakistan, she had heard so much about him from her elder sister Nisaa that she could have made a list of all the details. Nisaa was Jibreel's classmate and was highly impressed by him, despite being an exceptional student herself.

 Ayesha often read Jibreel's comments on her sister's Facebook statuses, where he always stood out with his witty remarks. Ayesha had become used to looking for his comments, and she didn't even realize how much she had grown fond of them.

Although Nisaa had introduced her to Salar Sikander, Ayesha was always curious about Jibreel's family. Her curiosity often led her to scroll through his pictures, though she could only view some due to privacy settings. While she could see Jibreel in various group photos from university events, pictures of his family remained elusive.

Jibreel, on the other hand, was also vaguely aware of Ayesha, thanks to her occasional participation in the conversations on Nisaa's Facebook wall. But their connection remained distant, as Jibreel had never tried to find her account, and Ayesha kept her profile private. Her social circle was minimal, and she liked to keep it that way. 

However, she couldn't shake the feeling that Jibreel was interested in Nisaa, especially since Nisaa herself never hesitated to admit that she liked Jibreel despite being four years older than him.

Ayesha was a silent observer of all these things, but when she finally met Jibreel at a university function, she was already quite impressed. For the first time, Ayesha had agreed to attend the function with Nisaa, purely because Jibreel would be there. It was not like her to attend such events, and Nisaa had even remarked about it to Jibreel during the introduction.

When Ayesha saw Jibreel in person, he left an indelible mark on her mind. Even at sixteen, Jibreel stood tall at almost six feet, with deep black eyes like his father's and sharp features inherited from his mother. His voice was deep and carried an unusual calm. Wearing simple dark blue jeans and a black and white T-shirt, Jibreel smiled as he spoke to Ayesha for the first time, and she was nervous.

During their conversation, Ayesha struggled to calm her nerves, and even though she tried her best to appear composed, she found it incredibly difficult just standing near him. Jibreel's charm wasn't just in his appearance but in his ability to effortlessly draw people in, and Ayesha silently admitted to herself that any girl would be lucky to have him.

Later that evening, after returning from the event, Ayesha confessed to Nisaa, "I'm praying for you, Nisaa, that you marry Jibreel someday. He's truly amazing."

Nisaa laughed and replied, "Well, marriage isn't happening anytime soon. He's too young for that, and I have my career to focus on, but yes, I like him. If he ever asks me, I wouldn't say no... who could?"

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