The morning came gently.
The sun crept through the curtains, painting Noor's room in gold and shadow. Birds chirped outside her window, the sounds of Lahore stirring awake. But within her, there was a silence that refused to lift.
She hadn't slept well.
The strange peace from the night before—the dream without shadows, the whispered goodbye—lingered like the final chord of a forgotten melody. Her fingers curled around her bedsheet, and for a long time, she simply lay there, listening.
Listening for something she couldn't name.
When she finally rose, she moved through the house in silence, performing her chores, preparing tea, organizing her lesson materials—but nothing felt steady. Her hands kept trembling.
Her heart knew before her mind admitted it.
He was gone.
She didn't even know his name. Didn't know what to call him. But he was gone.
And that should've brought relief.
Instead, it felt like something had been torn away before it was ever hers to hold.
The Fig Tree
She didn't notice it at first.
It was only when she stepped into her garden midmorning, a book of hadiths in hand, that she saw something glint beneath the fig tree's low-hanging branches.
Curious, she walked over and crouched beneath the shade.
There, carefully nestled between the roots, was a folded scrap of paper.
Her heart stopped.
No name. No ribbon. No rose.
Just aged parchment, folded once, edges torn and slightly weathered by dew.
She hesitated.
Then she opened it.
You are not mine.But if I live a thousand lives,I will thank Allah for the moment I met your eyes.
Your prayers are my sanctuary.And if you forget me, may He never forget you.
I am trying to become what you would never fear.Even if I do it in your absence.
L.
The breath fled her lungs.
L.
Her mind raced. Her hand trembled.
She folded the note again, this time slowly, as though the act itself was sacred. Then she pressed it to her heart.
Elsewhere in the City – Shadows Stir
The men had arrived at dawn.
They moved through the streets of Lahore like shadows—silent, well-dressed, unnoticed by most. Italian, slick-haired, quiet. Dangerous.
Luca Moretti had sent two of his finest.
Matteo, a former assassin turned fixer, and Silvio—Leonardo's own cousin.
They carried no guns. Not yet.
Just questions. And money.
They showed a photo around town—an old photo, blurry, grainy, but unmistakably Leonardo.
No one answered at first.
But money loosened lips.
One fruit vendor near the masjid spoke of a European man visiting often. Kept his head low. Prayed quietly. Always looking toward a particular house on the corner.
A house with a garden.
A house with a girl.
That Afternoon
Noor walked to the masjid with the note in her pocket.
Her thoughts were stormy, but she wore a calm expression. Inside, she met her students, taught them verses of Surah Maryam, and smiled even when her soul felt like collapsing inward.
But she couldn't hide from Imran.
He caught her after class.
"You look tired," he said gently.
She smiled thinly. "Just dreams."
He tilted his head. "Of someone… or something?"
Her silence was enough of an answer.
He didn't press. He simply said, "Sometimes Allah brings people into our lives not to stay, but to shift our hearts toward Him."
Noor's throat tightened.
"I think he was broken," she said, more to herself than to him. "But he tried to become something better."
Imran nodded. "Then perhaps he gave you the greatest gift a man can give: the start of his change."
Matteo and Silvio
They arrived at the guesthouse that evening.
The lock was old, easy to pick. They entered silently, guns drawn. The place was clean. Too clean.
No blood. No signs of struggle.
Just a prayer rug, a Qur'an, and a notebook with torn-out pages.
Silvio cursed in Italian. "He was here."
Matteo studied the room. "And he's not running anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"He left this."
He held up a torn page written in Arabic—a transliteration of the Shahada.
They exchanged a look.
"That girl," Silvio said. "We need to find her."
Matteo nodded. "She's his weakness."
Noor's Disappearance
Two days passed.
Then three.
Noor began to feel the pull again—an unease in her bones, a weight in her breath.
On the fourth morning, she stepped into her garden and felt it immediately.
She was being watched.
She looked around, but saw no one.
Yet every movement she made, every breath she took… felt observed.
She didn't tell anyone. Didn't know how to.
But she began locking her doors. Praying longer. Sleeping less.
Then, on the fifth evening, she left her teaching bag on a bench outside the masjid while helping Hira tie her shoes.
When she returned, the bag was gone.
Inside it had been the note.
The one from L.
Leonardo Learns
He was on the border of Peshawar, preparing to cross into Afghanistan, when Azfar brought him the news.
"They found her."
Leonardo froze. "What?"
"The girl. Noor. Someone's following her. Your cousin, Silvio, and Matteo."
His blood ran cold.
"They stole something. A bag. They're getting close."
Leonardo stepped back from the car.
Azfar grabbed his arm. "You leave now, and they'll know exactly where to look."
"I don't care."
"You'll expose her. You'll—"
"She's already exposed!" Leonardo snapped. "Because of me."
Azfar sighed. "So what will you do? Kill them?"
"If I must."
Noor – A Letter
Two days later, Noor received another note. This time, not left beneath a tree.
It was hand-delivered by a young boy with olive skin and frightened eyes.
You are being watched.Pack a bag. Leave the garden. Go to the masjid and wait.He will find you.
L.
Noor didn't hesitate.
She trusted the voice in her soul more than the one in her mind.
That evening, she left her home for the last time.
Reunion
She waited outside the masjid until the stars blinked into the sky.
Then, from the shadows beyond the gate, he appeared.
Taller. Thinner. Exhausted.
But it was him.
Noor didn't speak.
Leonardo didn't either.
He stepped forward, removed something from his pocket, and handed it to her.
A prayer bead. Hers, from long ago. She didn't even remember losing it.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.
"I shouldn't be anywhere near you," he said. "But they're coming. And I'd rather die at your feet than live knowing you suffered because of me."
Her heart trembled.
"You said goodbye."
"I lied."
Silence.
Then Noor looked him in the eyes.
"Take me somewhere safe."
And Leonardo, for the first time in his life, obeyed a woman's command without question.