HE WASN’T THE MONSTER BUT CAME FROM ONE

“The question”

Hours later, the city lights blurred behind him as the sleek car pulled up to his mansion. The driver jumped out, opening the door and helping Mubarak descend. Before he could take a step toward the house, a voice called out.

"Hi, ma'am," the driver said politely, looking up.

"I'll take him from here," a calm female voice replied. The driver nodded and stepped back, watching as Mubarak's head lifted, and his eyes met hers. His smile softened immediately.

"Mom... you're here," he said, the wild edge of the night fading slightly from his voice.

"Yes, you're home," she replied gently, guiding him inside. She motioned for the maids to follow her to his room, intending to help him remove his shoes, chain, and wristwatch - small gestures of care, nothing more, leaving his clothes untouched.

The soft rustle of fabric and the faint clink of jewelry echoed briefly in the spacious room as the maids finished what they were doing. One by one, they quietly left, leaving Mubarak alone with his mom.

He sank onto the edge of the sofa, finally allowing himself to relax, slightly under his mom's gentle hands. She sat beside him,

Then Mubarak broke the silence, his voice soft but deliberate.

"Mom..." he called, his tone carrying a weight that made her immediately turn her gaze toward him. Her eyes sottened as they met his.

"Yes, Mubarak, I'm here," she replied gently, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

He hesitated for a moment, then continued,

"Your sister... Ismail's mom... if there's anything you asked her, she could say no too?"

His mother's smile was calm, almost amused, but her eyes held the depth of someone who had seen the world and knew exactly how to navigate it. She leaned back slightly, studying him as if measuring whether he truly understood her words.

"Mubarak... there's nothing in this world I want from my sister - from Ismail's mom - that she would ever say no to," she said slowly, letting each word sink in. "Don't forget, Mubarak, I made her family who they are now.

I built them. Their lives, their stability... all of it.

And she has always stood by them, just as I taught her to."

Mubarak's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Yeah, Mom... I know," he said softly. "I just... I needed an Ameen. That's why I asked."

His mom's smile widened slightly, warmth radiating from her presence. She shifted closer, resting her hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Yes, there's nothing she can say no to if you need something from her, or if you want her to do anything. But... 1 am curious, Mubarak. Why do you ask?"

He let out a low, thoughtful hum, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened for a fleeting moment. "It's... nothing serious," he said, his voice casual but with a trace of thoughtfulness. "Just curiosity, I guess."

His mom studied him silently for a few seconds, her gaze gentle yet probing, sensing there was more behind the words than he was willing to admit. She didn't press further; she never had to. She had always known how to let him reveal what he wanted, in his own time.