"I met your ex-wife." That wasn't just a sentence; it was like a bomb that Abdullah had dropped on Ahsan Saad. Abdullah had returned the night before, and the next day he met Ahsan in the hospital. 

Just as cheerful, polite, and energetic as ever, Abdullah's ears were filled with the voices and revelations of Anaya and Jibreel.

 He had asked Ahsan for a meeting, which was granted with great friendliness. Both lived in the same apartment building. Ahsan's parents lived with him, so Ahsan wanted the meeting at his home. 

However, Ahsan was busy that evening, so Abdullah had to go to his apartment, where he met Ahsan's parents, exchanging a customary hello as usual.

Ahsan wanted to talk to him in the lounge, but Abdullah wanted to meet privately, so Ahsan took him to his bedroom, though he seemed confused. Abdullah's behavior was strange, but the unease in Ahsan Saad's chest was signaling something worse, and he was right.

As soon as Abdullah entered the room, he began the conversation with that sentence, and Ahsan Saad's tone, manner, and expressions changed in a blink. Abdullah heard the voice of Ahsan for the first time in his life.

 His tone was extremely dry and cold; "harsh" would be the best word to describe it. His forehead creased, and his eyes were filled with consuming hatred. Through clenched teeth, he asked Abdullah, "Why?"

Abdullah, in very brief words, told him that Anaya had said Jibreel didn't want to marry Abdullah and that the reason for his refusal was Ahsan Saad's close relationship with him.

 Abdullah told Ahsan that both Anaya and Jibreel had leveled serious accusations against him, which made it necessary for him to meet Aisha Abidin.

"So you trusted them. Not your teacher. And without consulting me, you went to meet that **? And you claim you learned everything from me?" Ahsan interrupted Abdullah's speech in an extremely sarcastic tone. 

Abdullah was unable to continue speaking. He had just heard a curse word for Aisha Abidin from Ahsan Saad's mouth... the curse wasn't shocking, but hearing it from Ahsan's lips was. However, that evening wasn't the last shock Abdullah was going to experience. He had come to see the idol he worshiped fall face down.

"And you had no right to meet my ex-wife. To investigate me like this... You went to her, and she must have told you to lie after lie about me," Ahsan continued, now fluently cursing Aisha as if they were everyday terms.

 His rage was uncontrollable. The hatred he felt for Aisha was overwhelming him, or perhaps it was the pain of seeing his carefully built image shattered that was distressing him. Abdullah couldn't understand.

"She must have shown you the court papers, saying, 'Look, the court is calling my husband a liar. The court dismissed the accusations of violence against me. 

The court labeled Ahsan Saad as a cheat for marrying another woman and thus granted me the divorce and custody of the child.'" Ahsan kept talking while Abdullah stood there, listening in silence. He was hearing the same revelations that Jibreel had sent him to Aisha for.

"I don't care for the courts of this country, these are infidel courts. What do they know about Islam? They pass judgments that are against Shariah. My religion gives me the right to marry again without any reason, so how can the court call me a cheat for doing that? I have the right to bring an unruly wife to the right path through discipline. 

Can the court stop me from doing that? I am a man; my religion has given me superiority over women. How can the court force me to treat my wife as an equal? It's because of these very things that your society is ruined: indecency, immodesty, defiance, disobedience to men... these are the things that have destroyed your women.

 And now the courts say that we should also become dishonorable and tolerate these women and follow them around like dogs wagging our tails."

Who was this man? Abdullah couldn't recognize him. So much poison, such prejudice, such words and thoughts... He had never seen this side of Dr. Ahsan Saad, the man who always proudly declared himself an American, calling America his country, and now he was talking about "your country," "your society," "your courts." All the words of "brotherhood" and "community" that used to be like a mantra for him had disappeared.

"I slapped her with the divorce and left her humiliated. She will always remain someone's kept woman or girlfriend, but never a wife. That's the freedom she wanted. That's what all your women want. 

Home, family, four walls—what do they know of these things? Words like 'honor' don't even exist in their dictionary, and then they accuse their husbands of violence—pathetic women." His words were becoming increasingly incoherent as if he couldn't even connect his thoughts, but he wasn't ready to stop.

 Had it been his knowledge speaking, Abdullah could have listened for hours, as he had always listened in awe. But this was his ignorance speaking, and it wanted to keep talking.

Abdullah wanted to interrupt and say something, but before he could, Ahsan Saad's parents entered the room. They had probably come in after hearing Ahsan's raised voice. "Father, I told you that your friend's son is my enemy, that he would harm me. Now you see, it's happening. He's out there slandering me everywhere," Ahsan said the moment he saw his father.

"Who?" his father asked, bewildered.

"Jibreel," Ahsan replied, pointing at Abdullah. "He introduced him to Aisha, and that woman must have told him all sorts of lies about me, spewed venom." Ahsan was complaining like a child.

"'He is a Hafiz of the Quran,' Jibreel said. 'So am I,' he added. 'He doesn't look at you with the same regard that he does with Ahsan,' Ayesha replied. 'If he weren't a non-Muslim, I would have told him everything about Ahsan by now. 

He would never even look at Ahsan again after meeting me. But he is a non-Muslim. How could I tell him that the man he has considered an exemplary Muslim for so many years isn't what he thinks? 

Abdullah wouldn't just lose faith in Ahsan, but his heart would turn away from my religion as well.' She spoke in that soft tone that was characteristic of her. 

'This once happened to me. Before I met Ahsan Saad, I was a devout Muslim, blindly following Islam with passion and madness. I had deep, unwavering love and reverence for Allah and His Messenger. But after marrying Ahsan Saad and seeing his true face, my biggest loss was that he turned me away from my faith.

 Now, every person who talks about religion feels like a hypocrite to me. The sight of beards and hijabs frightens me.

 It feels like my heart has been sealed off from worship. For so many years, I prayed and performed rituals day and night for a better life, but now it seems like I shouldn't ask anything from Allah anymore. I am a Muslim, but my heart is slowly becoming a denier, and this realization scares me. But I am unable to do anything about it. 

This all happened because I had placed too many expectations and hopes on a good practicing Muslim, and I saw them shatter. I don't want Abdullah to go through the same pain. If he can become a good person while believing that Ahsan Saad is a good man, then let him.'

She tried rubbing her forehead with her hand, wiping her eyes and cheeks. 'I am a disbeliever, but I can't turn someone else into one. If I have any faith left in me, it's only this much.' She now took out a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. 'Like? I don't know about like, mummy! But Ayesha Abidin is beyond my comprehension.

 I used to feel deep sympathy for her, but now sympathy is far behind. I can't get her out of my mind. I want to see her again and again, even though I know there is no future between us, and even though I know she is the opposite of the kind of girl I want as a life partner.

 I like strong, confident, career-oriented girls who are always smiling and well-mannered, and Ayesha only has two or maybe three of these qualities. But despite this, I can't stay away from her.'

Before coming to America, he had explained his helplessness to Imama when she had asked him why he couldn't forget her. Imama had then asked him, 'What is it about her that makes you unable to forget her?' She had asked Jibreel. 'She's strange, mummy, just strange,' he had tried to explain his helplessness to her, and that helplessness had returned once again.

The logic of that girl walking beside him could only be her own. She was calling herself a disbeliever, and he was amazed at her spirit. 'You are very strange,' he couldn't help but say. 'Yes, I am,' Ayesha Abidin admitted.

 'I can't figure out if you were better at sixteen or now.' It was an unexpected comment. Ayesha looked at him in surprise. He wasn't looking at her. 'Abdullah told me you love me,' Ayesha felt as if the ground should open up and swallow her at that moment. The shame was unbearable. That incident wasn't meant to reach Jibreel, yet it had. 

'I told him, I know.' He was saying with his hands in his jacket pockets, walking beside her. That incident had embarrassed him as well. How had he reached her heart?

'Abdullah thinks we could be good life partners,' she paused at that comment. Who had been kinder—the one who said it or the one who conveyed it? 'I told him, I know that too,' Jibreel said, stopping as well. Now they were standing face to face on the footpath, looking at each other. It had started snowing again.

 There was a time in my life when I thought if I married someone like you, I would consider myself incredibly lucky. All problems would be solved,' she finally started speaking. 'But now, at this stage, I think marriage isn't a solution. 

It doesn't guarantee a good life. Now, I'm not looking for support for a good life. I want to focus on my career. I want to live my life for myself. I want to travel the world.'

'I can sponsor your world tour,' he said with utmost seriousness. She burst out laughing. It was said seriously, but it was meant to make her laugh. 'You're strange,' she said. 'I know,' he responded with the same spontaneous honesty. 

'Even Abdullah said that both of you are strange. He wants to become Mother Teresa, and you enjoy ruining other people's happiness based on your assumptions. You complement each other,' he said.

'Excuse me, could you move?' a passerby asked, requesting them to step aside. They both stepped aside simultaneously. 'Maybe in some good weather, I'll ask you again if I can sponsor your world tour,' Jibreel said to her after the passerby had gone.

 'Instead of looking for people like me, if you had just talked to me at sixteen, I wouldn't have said no. At most, I would have asked you to wait,' Jibreel told her. 'I'm a neurosurgeon. I can read minds, but not hearts. And I can't say typical romantic things,' he added. 'You were good at sixteen, and you're still good. I told my mother the same thing. 

She said, that if Allah placed love for Jibreel Sikandar in her heart, then she must be a very good girl whose virtue Allah appreciates. I'm just repeating my mother's words, so don't take it as arrogance.' Tears welled up in Ayesha Abidin's eyes, melting the stone-like heart she had developed over time.

'I don't know how much of a believer or disbeliever we are, but whatever we are, Allah is not unaware of our hearts,' Ayesha Abidin had read somewhere once. 'Good times come at the right time,' her grandmother used to say. These strange phrases... and after years, they were now revealing their meaning. 'You cry a lot, like my mother. 

You'll get along well with her,' Jibreel remarked, noticing her red, tear-filled eyes and nose. 'Will you have coffee, or are you still going grocery shopping?' he teased her. 'Grocery is more important,' she tried to hide her regret, wiping her tears and regaining her composure. 'If it was that important, you wouldn't have left the grocery store behind.'

 Ayesha instinctively looked back. It was indeed far behind. Just like many other things, there was much ahead of them. She looked at Jibreel's smiling face and then smiled with tear-filled eyes."

This translation retains the nuances and depth of the original text, reflecting the characters' emotional complexities and relationships. Let me know if you need further assistance.

"What did you say to him that made him stop talking to me?" Even several days after her meeting with Hasham, Reisah hadn't received any new updates, and Hasham's mysterious silence had made her worried. 

She couldn't help but ask Hameen, "Why did he stop pursuing you? That's good, isn't it? It's what you wanted, right?" he had said seriously. Reisah had no reply. He had come to her university. "Alright, but what did you say to him?" Reisah asked Hameen in a somewhat defeated tone. He had brought her a burger and had eaten his on the way. 

Now, all he had left was one small piece, which he was swallowing rather sloppily. Reisah started eating her burger, knowing that after finishing his, he'd start on hers too. "I told him that if I were in his place, I would give up the throne," he said as he swallowed the last piece, and Reisah's appetite vanished. What a terrible suggestion, she thought to herself.

 "But that's not all I said." Hameen was now licking his fingers. Then he told Reisah very calmly, "You've probably lost your appetite, but mine's just kicking in. If you're not going to eat, I'll finish the rest too." Reisah silently handed him her burger. Her appetite had disappeared. "I also told him that he wasn't a suitable candidate for the crown prince.

He doesn't have the ability or the talent... whether the marriage happens or not, sooner or later, he'll be removed from the position of crown prince. So he has two options: either marry the girl he loves and give up the title of crown prince now, or keep dreaming of the throne and lose both love and the crown.

" Hameen had calmly shared the rest of his conversation with her. "You said all that to him, just like that?" Reisah was deeply shocked. "No, I didn't say it exactly like that. I'm politely telling you. To him, I said very clearly that if he wasn't removed in the next three months, he should just marry someone else after that.

" She stared at Hameen Sikandar in disbelief. If Hasham bin Sabah had cut her out of his life after this conversation, any self-respecting person would have done the same. "There's intense lobbying going on within the royal family against Sabah bin Jarrah, and to secure his position, Sabah is trying to marry into the family of the former ruler. 

Even if Hasham marries... he won't be able to stay on the throne for long. His rivals are powerful and more capable rulers than Sabah. If Sabah is removed, who will allow Hasham to stay? I didn't tell Hasham all of this, I'm telling you." He finished the burger and dusted off his hands. Then he said to Reisah, "Are you funding his rivals?

" The last question Reisah had expected from him was this. They both stared into each other's eyes for a moment and then Hameen said, "I'm just doing business. In America, with Sabah, and in Bahrain, with his opponents." He finally admitted. "That was a vague confession." "Why are you doing this?" Reisah asked him more sharply in response.

 He continued to stare at her and finally said, "For my family." Reisah's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want a love that's given to me out of pity," she said in a choked voice. "He's more sincere towards you than I had estimated. If he wasn't, I would've told you. He'll give up the throne for you," Hameen told her bluntly. She kept staring at him.

As Anaya entered her hospital's parking lot, she saw Abdullah's call on her phone. For a moment, she was puzzled, then she answered it. "Can we meet?" was the first thing he said after greeting her. She remained silent for a moment. "Are you here?" she asked. 

"I'm right behind your car," he replied. Anaya instinctively checked her rearview mirror and saw Abdullah's car signaling with its lights. Ten minutes later, after parking her car, he was sitting in his car. He had two branches and a flower in his hand. 

Without saying a word, Anaya looked at him and then took the items from him. He had already told her over the phone about his recent meetings with Ahsan and Ayesha. "I'm sorry," he said. "There's no need for that," Anaya replied. "I stopped offering prayers led by Dr. Ahsan at the hospital." Anaya looked at him, startled. 

"I told him that a man who treats his wife like that isn't fit to be an imam, and if he wants to lead prayers again, he'll have to take back all the accusations against Ayesha." Abdullah was speaking very seriously. "Oh, so that's why he withdrew the case," Anaya blurted out. Abdullah was taken aback. "He dropped the case?" "Yes. Jibreel told me.

 He also wrote an apology letter to Ayesha," Anaya added. "It doesn't matter anymore; he's done too much damage." "To Ayesha?" "No, to himself," Abdullah's tone was somber. "Good people recover from every loss because Allah is with them. 

The bad ones can't," he said. "He's a big liar." "He came with his parents to meet my father, to complain about Jibreel," Anaya said. 

"My father told his father to see how his son's hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness had ruined him." "Was he embarrassed?" Abdullah asked. "I don't know, he went quiet. But Ahsan Saad's mother started crying. I don't know why. Then they left," Anaya replied. "Did you forgive me?" Abdullah asked suddenly. She smiled. 

"Yes, it wasn't that big of a mistake that I couldn't forgive you," she replied, as Abdullah handed her a card. She laughed instinctively. "Learn to say everything out loud now. Why do you always write it down?" she said while opening the card. But as she started to read, she fell silent.

 There was only one sentence written on the handmade card: "Will you marry me?" Anaya took out the ballpoint pen from her shirt pocket and wrote under the sentence, "Yes." Abdullah smiled and, taking the pen from her, wrote, "When?" Anaya wrote, "In the season of flowers.

" "Spring?" Abdullah asked. In reply, Anaya wrote, "Yes." Abdullah drew a heart on the card, and Anaya drew another.

 Abdullah added a smiley face, and Anaya added another. The card was filled with lines, words, numbers, and emotions, and everything represented love, which is one of Allah's greatest blessings. Both of them were the fortunate ones filling the card with promises and renewals of vows.

He peeked once again through the window of the banquet hall with his telescope. Inside, security personnel were stationed in their positions. The caretaker staff were also in place. 

The hall's entrance door was directly across from the floor-to-ceiling window through which he was observing the scene from an apartment on the third floor of a building across the seven-foot-wide, dual-lane road.

 He was seated in a chair in front of the bedroom window, peering through the tiny hole in the curtain using the telescope sight of a modern sniper rifle, keeping an eye on the banquet hall. The inner door of the banquet hall was open, and the reception line had taken its position in the corridor. His watch showed it was 9:00.

The guest was expected to enter the corridor at 9:15 and would leave after spending approximately one hour and fifteen minutes there. From the guest's arrival at the hotel until their departure, all forms of communication were going to be jammed for about an hour and a half. This was due to the high-security alert.

 For an hour and a half, cell phones and related devices would be