I want to laugh. “Your.Life.”
I drag a hand down my face, walking in a circle, letting the words build up in my throat before turning toward him.
“Howdareyou?” I whisper, now shaking with anger. “Are youseriouslygoing to sit there and pretend if anything happened to you it wouldn’t affect me?”
His lips part. “The military won’t trace my actions back to—”
I let out a short laugh. “You thinkthat’swhat I care about?”
He looks bewildered, frightened even.
“Youcan’tdo this.” The words spill out of me like a broken dam, each one tripping over the other. “You can’t record the protests anymore because I swear to God, Kenan, if you get arrested—if you die, I willneverforgive you!”
His eyes brim with tears. “Don’t say that.”
I fall to my knees in front of him. I breathe in gasps, my desperation hindering my lungs. “Iwon’tforgive you, Kenan. You can’t come into my life and show me the colors and tell me about your dreams and just risk it all when we’resixdays from leaving!”
“Because I might be arrested?” His voice breaks.
“Because you made me fall in love with you!” I retort, my heart beating harshly.
My eyes burn with tears that streak down my overheated cheeks. His overflow as well, like two rivers dripping from his chin, and he covers them with his arm, his lower lip trembling.
I refuse to look away, to have any answer from him that isn’t what I need to hear.
I whisper, “You can’t do this to me. My heart won’t take it.”
He lowers his arm, eyes shining. “I love you too.”
His voice comes out soft and quiet, but it’s all I hear. Even if there were a hurricane ripping through Homs, he’d be all I hear. Every taut muscle and nerve cell in me unwinds and I sink lower in the soil, feeling the little grass blades nudging me.
“Then do this for me,” I plead. “Please. Do this for me.”
I want to reach for him—to hold him—but I won’t. There’s no ring on my finger and we aren’t promised to each other.
He doesn’t reach for me either, even though it’s clear from his expression he wants nothing more. But he does lean forward until there’s no space for a flower stem to fall between us.
“Salama,” he breathes, and my heart trips, picks itself up, and trips again. Under the silvery moonlight, he looks magical—magnified by his kindness and beautiful soul. He doesn’t deserve the cruelty this world has to offer. “I won’t record.”
I clasp a hand over my mouth and brush away the relieved tears. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “Don’t cry.”
“You’re crying too!”
A laugh escapes from him and I manage to beam, my facial muscles stretching stiffly. But the moment passes quickly when I look to Khawf to make sure he’s keeping his promise. He looks amused.
“Well, that worked out,” he chuckles.
Kenan’s gaze drops to my restless fingers. “Salama, may I ask you something?”
I wince slightly, anxious. “Sure.”
“I’ve noticed how jumpy you are sometimes,” he begins slowly. “Your eyes dart everywhere, as if you’re looking for someone. There was also, uh, what happened earlier. Are… you all right?”
There it is. It was going to happen eventually. I bite my tongue and Khawf laughs this time.
“Will you tell him, Salama?” he says. “Or are you scared he won’t love you anymore?”
