Series: Debts to the Desert Sand

Two months passed without Janiah on earth, no longer protecting, serving, or challenging Jabr. Though he had braced himself for her absence, the void she left behind was undeniable. Yet, as much as he could be ready, he was. He had no choice but to step into the role she had always envisioned for him—strong,

The spring of 1948 arrived quietly in Kuwait, the sun warming the streets of the city, but by May 3, Shuwaikh arbor stirred with more than the usual activity. The Hartford, the largest freighter under British registry, slid into port like an aging giant, its iron hull reflecting the soft shimmer of the Gulf waters.

Ahmadi was different. The air itself felt foreign—cleaner, quieter, but also strangely distant. On one side, their neighbors were British, on the other, Texans. The Texans, with their larger-than-life attitudes, dominated the area. Each evening, the heavy scent of barbecue smoke filled the air, wrapping around their home like an unwelcome guest. On the first

That afternoon at 4 p.m., Dandy called, his voice as lively as ever. “We’ll stop by with the kids around dinner. Hope that’s okay.” Janiah let out a groan from her spot at the kitchen counter. “Dinner? We aren’t ready to feed all of them tonight.” Jomana, rubbing her temple, sighed. “They always come unannounced.”

Two days of peace passed, and the air in the apartment seemed lighter. Jabr and Jomana found a rhythm together. Jomana, with gentle guidance from Janiah, began to take on more of the cooking. Janiah, with her hands worn from years of tending fires and preparing meals in simpler ways, watched as Jomana embraced her

As Jabr sat in his car under the flickering light of the streetlamp on Istaqlal Street, his thoughts raced. The moment had come. The one he had fantasized about in the dark corners of his mind—paying off Al-Bader and Al-Faraj, two men who had kept him tethered to fear and debt. He envisioned their stunned

Jbar pulled into the apartment parking lot with a sigh of relief, one that was long overdue. He and Mary exchanged a brief, strained glance before silently exiting the car. The weight of unspoken words clung to the air between them. Jbar hoisted their bags onto his shoulders, leaving the sack of rupees stashed in

Jabr sped towards the apartment, mind racing as fast as his old Chevrolet Fleetmaster beneath him. The streets blurred by, but his thoughts kept circling back to one question: how had Mary—sharp, calculating Mary—allowed herself to get so deeply entangled in this? When he reached the apartment, he packed quickly, tossing enough clothes for several

Now, to be off to Riyadh for the business with Akeem and Mary. As soon as Jabr left the Palace, the urgency of his task weighed on him. He needed to explain the trip to Jomana, especially after everything between them had been left unsaid on the matter. His feet carried him quickly back to

Jabr’s debt still loomed, but somehow it had begun to fade in his mind. It hadn’t disappeared entirely—no, its weight was still there, pressing against the back of his consciousness—but it felt lighter now. The thought of his newborn son, a life yet to be lived, carried him into a place of fulfillment, farther than