The Garden Again
Two days after the rain, Noor returned to her garden.
She sat on the same wooden bench where her mother once read to her. The jasmine vines now seemed to hum with unspoken memories. The encounter still echoed in her chest.
Leonardo had said her name. Not just spoken it—understood it. It left her unsettled, but not frightened. And that... troubled her more than anything.
She opened her notebook, intending to draft a lesson plan. Instead, she found herself writing his words:
Then build a new name.
Could a man like him really leave the past behind?
Noor's pen hovered.
She didn't have the answers.
But something inside her whispered: He's trying.
And she couldn't ignore it.
Leonardo's Training Begins
Leonardo knelt on the mosque's edge, watching through the open door. He had found a retired scholar, an old man who offered no questions and no judgments.
"Teach me," Leonardo had said. "But don't ask why."
The man had simply nodded.
And now, for the first time in his life, Leonardo listened—not to commands, not to gunfire, but to verses that quieted his soul.
He learned Wudu. The rhythm of prayer. The whisper of Arabic.
Every day, he practiced alone.
Every night, he wrote letters he never sent.
Noor,
Today I learned about Surah Al-Anfal. Victory does not always look like power. Sometimes, it is surrender. I wonder... if I met you again now, would you still turn away?
Or would you see me trying?
Noor's Silent Curiosity
Noor didn't ask about him. But she listened.
Once, she overheard Imran speaking in hushed tones to the Imam.
"There's a foreign man. Comes every day. Quiet. Scarred. But he prays like he means it."
The Imam had replied, "Then let him pray. Allah knows what's in the hearts."
That night, Noor stayed awake long after midnight, watching the stars, whispering du'a.
"If he truly seeks You, then guide him. But if this is a test for me, give me the strength to pass it."
A Letter Delivered
Three days later, a boy handed her a folded note. No name.
Just one sentence in Urdu:
"Will you meet me where light and shadow first touched?"
Noor's breath hitched.
She knew where he meant.
The guesthouse.
At sunset, she went.
A Different Man
He stood inside the gate, not in a suit, not with arrogance—but in simple clothes. Clean. Unarmed. A soft prayer bead in one hand.
"You came," he whispered.
"Why now?" Noor asked.
"Because I had nothing worth offering before," Leonardo said. "Now, I have a name I'm trying to honor. And a God I'm trying to understand."
She studied him.
"Do you believe?"
"I believe in what I see in you," he said. "And now, I want to believe in the One who made you."
Noor's heart ached. It was too much. Too fast.
"I can't promise anything," she whispered.
"I'm not asking," he replied. "I just want to stand near your light without stealing it."
They stood in silence.
And then, Noor nodded once.
That was enough.