Chapter 172

He has a gun in his hand. And he was wearing a keffiyeh, covering his face, neck and head so that only his eyes were visible, sharp and unreadable in the shadow of the fabric. The keffiyeh moved slightly with his breath, as if it too was alive. My heart lurched hard against my ribs, a wild, confused beat that drowned out everything else. The shape of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, even the measured stride across the grass felt impossibly familiar, pulling at memories I had buried deep.

Hayder?

Author’s POV

Her mind was flooded with the memories of past. Each memory arrived like a wave she had no strength to withstand. Nostalgia hitting her. It was the gait of her Hayder. He walked in the similar manner, that easy, unhurried stride she had watched a thousand times across crowded streets or quiet garden paths, shoulders relaxed yet purposeful, each step carrying the same quiet confidence she had once found so comforting.

Confidence, in a man,