The Shards of Silence

Chapter 5

As the world collapsed around him, Jabbar was left with nothing but a bare hope of seeing Amara once again. Deep down, he knew that he had lost her forever. His heart ached for his lost love, a momentary peace that he endured on Earth. In the end, all that remained were the echoes of their time, etched into the fabric of their world.

"Stand up, Jabbar! You need to go and find her!" A voice cracked inside Jabbar’s head, his subconscious yelling at him to fight the Fates and bring her back. With determination, Jabbar raised his hands and slapped himself back to reality.

"I need to go look for my wife," Jabbar stuttered as he stood up and headed towards the exit. Despite being physically fit, his legs felt weak, unable to support his weight. Jabbar stumbled through the office, eventually managing to navigate down the stairs and onto the chaotic streets below. It seemed the pain he suffered was shared by many, evident in the chaos surrounding him.

Frantically, Jabbar searched for a cab to take him to the World Trade Center, but none stopped. He felt utterly alone in his collapsed world, consumed by fear for what Amara might be enduring. Her smile was all he could think about, a beacon of hope amid the chaos. Focusing on her vivid image, he dashed through the crowded streets of New York toward the ground zero of the impact.

Jabbar ran as fast as his legs could carry him. To him, it felt as if time had sped up since he began his desperate search for Amara. All he could see were the gray clouds of dust rising toward the sky from a distant burning building where Amara was trapped. That was his sole focus. As he sprinted, a voice called out to him, but Jabbar couldn't concentrate on it. Then suddenly, a man caught up to him and forced him to stop.

"Sir, you cannot cross this line," an emergency official shouted at Jabbar, pointing toward the barricades they had installed.

“I need to go! My wife is in there somewhere!” Jabbar pleaded with all the strength he had left.

“I understand, sir, and we are doing everything we can to assist those who are injured,” the official replied firmly, restraining Jabbar. “But you need to cooperate with us as we clear the streets.”

Nodding toward a nearby fireman, the official continued, “Andrew, please take him with you and try to calm him down.”

Jabbar stood in a corner, his gaze fixed on the streets teeming with rushing emergency vehicles, the army, and, above all, blood spatter. People were bleeding, crying, and screaming for help, while others clung desperately to their loved ones. With each new victim he saw, Jabbar's heart pounded faster. In their faces, he could see Amara, crying out for help, trapped and bleeding somewhere, facing her demise alone. This image that he built of Amara, haunted him and gave him chills.

All Jabbar could think of were ways to evade the officers and reach the burning building. As he kept watch, he spotted a brief window of opportunity and seized it. With determination, Jabbar leaped over the red tape and sprinted as fast as he could in search of Amara. "You can't die today," he chanted in his mind as he scoured every corner his eyes fell upon.

As Jabbar made his way through the rubble, he heard a faint voice. Was it her? “AMARA!!!” Jabbar shouted at the top of his lungs. “I am coming for you!” With urgency, he began digging through the pile, but as he dug, the voice vanished. There was nothing, the voice he heard vanished in the chaos that surrounded him. He shouted her name again and again, but no one answered. It was as if his mind was playing tricks on him. Overwhelmed with grief, he sank to the ground, his head in his hands, and for the first time, he prayed to God for His mercy.

"I don’t know how this works, nor have I ever asked anything from You," Jabbar prayed, tears flowing from his eyes and making marks on his dirt-spattered hands. "Please, Lord, help me find her. She is all I ask for. I will be Your servant for the rest of my life. Please, Lord, onu bul."

As he knelt on the debris, someone rushed in and pushed him out of the way. It was Andrew, who had come after Jabbar and saved him from certain death. A rock broke off from the building mere feet away from where Jabbar lay, and if Andrew had been even a fraction of a minute late, Jabbar would have been crushed to death.

"Please, let me go. I've told you before, I need to search for my wife," Jabbar pleaded, throwing the oxygen mask they had placed on his face.

"You're lucky we're not having you arrested," Andrew replied, attempting to calm Jabbar down. "Actions like yours only make things worse for us. Please, let us do our job."

"But I need to do something," Jabbar responded, stepping off the ambulance. "Tell me, what can I do to help?"

Andrew sighed and looked at the broken man before him. "Where was your wife when the attack happened?"

"She, uh, she had an appointment at St. Vincent’s this morning," Jabbar replied, struggling to recollect his thoughts.

"Good. In that case, I would suggest to go and visit the hospital. As a matter of fact, that is one of our designated centers," Andrew responded, placing a hand on Jabbar's shoulder. "Let me help you get there. Just ride in that ambulance; it's headed that way."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Jabbar replied, running towards the ambulance.

"I hope you find her, buddy," Andrew said, passing a smile as he nodded towards the ambulance's crew to let Jabbar ride. "Don't lose hope."

Upon Jabbar’s arrival at St. Vincent’s, he navigated through the crowded hallways filled with people lying in their own blood on hospital beds. Madness seemed to spread all around, with staff appearing unaware of their tasks as they moved from one bed to the next. Jabbar searched for Dr. Stella in the chaos; she might have known where Amara was, as she was the last person who had seen her.

"Where can I find Dr. Stella from gynecology?" Jabbar inquired at the nurse's station.

"Sorry, but it's a state of emergency here," one of the nurses responded. "You may try looking for her down in the emergency ward."

Jabbar had met her before, so he knew whom to look for. As he rushed down the ward, he saw Dr. Stella scolding a junior doctor. Jabbar knew it was a long shot, but all he could do was try.

"Doctor," Jabbar called out while touching Stella's shoulder. "I'm Jabbar, Amara's husband. She came in here this morning—"

"Jabbar," Dr. Stella replied, turning to him. "I remember you. I hope Amara could reach safety after she left."

Jabbar paled as he understood it was a dead end. He gripped the bed beside him to steady himself and shook his head to deny Amara's safety.

"Jabbar," Stella responded, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Steady yourself. Don't worry, they will be all right."

"They?" Jabbar questioned with a puzzled look.

"Hey, Amara is expecting. We found out this morning," Stella smiled at Jabbar. "She tried calling you earlier, but you were in some meeting, I guess."

Hearing about the child, Jabbar couldn't fathom how to react. He was happy he was going to be a father but felt guilty that he couldn't talk to Amara and hear the news from her directly.

"Don’t worry, Jabbar, Amara will be all right," Stella assured him. "Here, keep my card if you need any help. I'll ask my interns to look for Amara at other nearby medical facilities. For now, I suggest heading back home and just keep listening to the news for any updates." Stella patted Jabbar’s back and returned to her duties.

Jabbar followed Stella's advice and returned home. He resonated with an image of a defeated man who had lost the battle with life. As he sat on the bed, his phone rang incessantly with calls from family and friends, all seeking answers he didn't have. Amidst the noise of the news blaring from the lounge, Jabbar lay on his bed, contemplating a life without Amara. Exhausted by the emotional turmoil, he eventually drifted into a restless sleep, consumed by darkness.

It was 8 in the morning, roughly 24 hours after the attack. Jabbar woke up with an idea thumping his nerves. He looked through their photo albums and cropped Amara’s picture. That smile melted his heart and gave him a ray of hope to find her. Hurriedly, he went to the nearby shop to print missing person pamphlets.

Since that day, Jabbar woke up early in the morning to spread the pamphlets throughout the city. Someone might recognize her, someone might know where Amara is. Hours turned into days, but the phone didn’t ring. Jabbar became increasingly disheveled, neglecting to eat or bathe. He was searching for a miracle, but each new dawn brought nothing in the bag for Jabbar.

As he stood sharing the pamphlets near the roughage site, a man walked towards him. Jabbar, with a glimpse of hope, looked up at him and smiled.

“May God help you, brother,” the man said in a soothing tone.

Jabbar’s smile turned into a frown. He realized that the man was just someone who sympathized with him and had no information about Amara.

“He never leaves His people alone,” the man consoled Jabbar.

“He? Who are you talking about?” Jabbar asked, confused. He had never met the man before in his life, yet the bearded stranger spoke to him as if they were familiar.

“He, the Lord Al-Mighty,” the man replied in a preaching tone. “I am Dr. Ali bin Abdullah, an imam of the community mosque,” he continued, pointing in the northeast direction. “I read your wife’s pamphlet, and we pray for the return of Amara. We Muslims need to stay together.”

“Muslims? How did you guess that I was a Muslim?” Jabbar replied, his tone confused.

“Amara, that’s your wife, isn’t she? That’s a Muslim name, correct?” Ali bin Abdullah questioned Jabbar.

Jabbar knew he had to continue the lie and couldn't reveal that his wife wasn't a Muslim. What if this imam could help him in his search? Jabbar was willing to take any risks to find her; she was his utmost priority. So, without uttering a word, Jabbar smiled and nodded at the stranger who might be his only hope of finding Amara.

"SubhanAllah, brother," Ali bin Abdullah responded. "Why don’t you join us here at 2 p.m. for a peaceful protest against the atrocities the government has been carrying out on our Muslim brothers due to the recent events?"

Jabbar took a moment to respond, but before he could say yes or no, Ali bin Abdullah continued with his invitation.

“What if that becomes a way to find your wife, brother,” Dr. Ali continued. “Just go home and think about this. And may God shower His blessings upon you.” With that, he left to join a group of men standing waiting for him.

Jabbar kept pondering over the invitation. His instincts told him to avoid such gatherings, as the news had become anti-Muslim since the attack. But he was getting nowhere at finding Amara, and he had to do something.

The next day, he decided to join the protest. He printed a large poster with a picture of Amara and the caption to help find her. He also included his number for people to call him once they had any information regarding her. The only thing motivating him towards this action was the late-night news about the protest. He knew that the protest would receive some media coverage, so without thinking about anything else, he made up his mind to accept the invitation. No matter what, Jabbar had to find Amara as it had been days since he heard about her.

As he expected, news reporters were present at the location. Jabbar held the poster up high, trying to catch the attention of the cameras. He kept moving in the direction of the media crew as he didn’t really care about the protest.

Suddenly, the peaceful protest turned violent as the police intervened. Jabbar watched as people scattered in panic, and armed men threw smoke grenades, attempting to break up the protest with brutal force. Despite the chaos, Jabbar remained focused on gaining the attention of the media, flashing the missing person poster.

A hand grabbed Jabbar and hurried him towards a secluded alley. Jabbar tried to resist, but his weakened state due to neglecting his health left him unable to put up much of a fight, and he was forced to follow.

It was Dr. Ali bin Abdullah who tried to save Jabbar. “The police are going to capture everyone,” Dr. Ali spoke while catching his breath. “I know you have nothing to do with this protest, so I would request that you head back home to safety so that you may continue the search for your wife.”

Jabbar looked at the stranger, and for some reason, he understood what he was saying. As he started moving away, Dr. Ali continued, “May God help you in finding your love, brother.” With a smile, he escaped in a black sedan.

Jabbar ran towards home, and upon arrival, he realized it had been a close call. He shut his apartment’s door and bolted all the locks. How could he have acted so foolishly? What would have happened if he got caught? Who would look for Amara then? Joining the rally was a big mistake, and Jabbar regretted his move. Despite this, he tried to focus on the positive side of the event. Perhaps someone had seen his poster, and soon, he would receive a call informing him about Amara’s whereabouts. Procrastinating, Jabbar fell asleep, feeling a sense of relief for the first time in days.

———————————————————

“I am glad that you had some sleep after such a long time, Jabbar,” Emma commented, interrupting Jabbar’s story.

“I had plenty of time to sleep after that,” Jabbar responded, rising from the couch and heading towards the balcony. “That night, suddenly the door burst open, and all I could see were flashes of light and armed men shouting at me.”

Emma lowered her coffee cup from her lips, her gaze fixed on Jabbar with a mixture of bewilderment and sympathy. Her jaws clenched, as if she struggled to find the right words to ease the situation. “I am so sorry, Jabbar,” she finally managed to say.

“They dragged me out of my apartment, and that’s where I spent the next 7 years of my life,” Jabbar spoke in a sobbing tone, his voice filled with emotion.

Emma reached into her purse for tissues and walked over to Jabbar. It was the first time she had witnessed a grown man cry. She never expected someone as strong as Jabbar to break down in front of her, yet there he was, trying to hide his tears.

“Let’s take a break,” Jabbar suggested, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket.

As the sky darkened, Jabbar's pain seemed to fade with each passing moment. Emma stood behind him, uncertain of her next move. She hesitated, raising her hand as if to reach for Jabbar's hand on the balcony railing, but she stopped short. Seeing Jabbar's vulnerability stirred an unexpected feeling in her heart.

"It's all right, Jabbar. Take your time. We can continue tomorrow," she said gently. With that, Emma headed towards the apartment door, leaving him alone with his grief.