A Happy Life
Zaid Karim Al-Husayni sat comfortably on the sofa with his wife, Safaa, engaged in a quiet conversation. It was just after sunset and the rain pounded relentlessly outside. Drawing her close with an arm around her shoulders, he cherished the warmth and the subtle scent of lavender in her hair—reminders of a Baghdad evening with distant Arabic music and the call to prayer echoing from countless mosques.
Yet here in Fresno, California, his imagination clashed with reality. Instead of the distant sounds of a vibrant cityscape, he only heard the quarrel of two cats and the rev of a motorcycle from afar. Inside their apartment, however, a calm sense of security and love prevailed—a sanctuary he deeply craved after a hard day spent pursuing his career as a private investigator.
The quiet was briefly interrupted by the soft ring of Safaa’s phone on the kitchen table.
“Would you like to answer that?” he gently inquired.
“No,” she murmured, nestling closer and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to leave this embrace.”
From the bedroom came the joyful sounds of Hajar and Anna playing and laughing. Zaid smiled at the thought that Hajar had unexpectedly gained a sister, and that Anna had finally found happiness. Two years ago, after enduring unspeakable hardships involving the loss of her father and being enslaved in Panama, Anna’s rescue had been an act of deep sacrifice. Now, she was safely part of their family—a true blessing.
Scars
In a quiet moment of reflection, Zaid and Safaa discussed their love, the errors they had both made, and their dreams for the future. As Safaa gently traced her fingers along the scar that cut across Zaid’s face—from his hairline over his right eyebrow to the bridge of his nose—she suggested, “Perhaps you could consult a plastic surgeon. A skilled doctor might reduce its appearance.”
Zaid knew the reality behind that mark all too well—it was a remnant of the torture he had suffered in Panama, a mark that made him feel like a character straight out of a thriller. Strangers’ eyes often darted to the scar, betraying a hint of fear.
“My dear Zaid, nothing about you is ever unworthy of praise,” Safaa said tenderly. “To me, you are as brilliant and beautiful as the red hue of Mars at dusk—a soft whisper of hope that love and goodness still exist in this world. I know you sometimes feel self-conscious about it, but to me, it’s a part of your strength.”
He smiled warmly at her playful rebuke. “Now you’re getting poetic—and stealing my role as the one who crafts the words.” Their reunion had deepened their tenderness, a sweetness that even surpassed the early days of their marriage. In moments like these he marveled that this was indeed his reality—a life he believed was guided by a power greater than his own.
With a teasing glint in his eye, Zaid asked, “And what about your little scar?”
Safaa countered with a laugh, lightly swatting his arm as he traced the faint, star-shaped mark on her forehead—a memento from a severe mosquito bite during her childhood.
Cousin Rania
After a brief pause, Safaa’s phone rang again. This time, she rose with clear irritation and answered briskly, “Yes?” as her expression shifted rapidly from annoyance to worry.
Her concern mounted when she said, “Oh my goodness. Yes, he’s right here.” Covering the phone’s speaker discreetly, she mouthed that it was her cousin Rania, and the gravest news was that Deek had gone missing.
Zaid took the call, listening as Rania, her voice tremulous with distress, explained that Deek had apparently struck gold with cryptocurrency. Word had it that he had splurged on a sports car immediately after amassing his fortune and had since disappeared, leaving his phone unresponsive. Rania’s fear was palpable as she insisted, “I’m less troubled by the money itself—I even joked about my claim on the house and half his gains in anger—but I just need to know he’s safe. I’m willing to pay if you can find him.”
Zaid reassured her, “Don’t worry, family comes first. From what I remember, Deek can be hot-headed, but he always finds his way back.”
Hearing Rania’s escalating distress, Zaid’s calm voice guided her: “Take a deep breath and recite the sacred words.” After a few repetitions, he inquired, “Think carefully now—if you truly know him, where might he go?”
Rania suggested a couple of possibilities—a sister’s crowded house or perhaps a friend named Marco. After calling both contacts, it was Marco’s tip that led Zaid to conclude with certainty: Deek was staying at the Moon Walk Motel.
Gun and Knife
Dressed in his well-worn brown fedora—a treasured reminder of his late mentor, Langston “Lonnie” Brown—Zaid approached his prized vehicle, an olive green 1969 Dodge Dart GTS. This muscular two-door sedan, with its powerful V8 engine, was a testament to performance and precision, second only in value to the fedora he wore.
Hidden within the car was a secret compartment concealed where the CD player would typically reside. The intricate mechanism required a series of precise actions—closing all the doors, sitting in the driver’s seat, starting the engine, engaging the rear defroster, and swiping a small magnet over the dashboard—to reveal its contents. Today, it yielded a modest cache of cash and his trusted Glock 49.
Although the compact 7.3-inch 9mm pistol was not always on his person, years on the job had honed his instinct for danger. In addition to the firearm, he always carried a pair of four-inch Cold Steel folding knives, ready to spring open with a swift pressure of his thumb—a habit born of necessity that had saved him more than once.
A Step Back
Zaid was no longer the man he had been before the harrowing events in Panama. His physical body had grown resilient, yet his inner wounds remained tender, often surfacing as a readiness for confrontation in challenging situations. Whereas he once might have sought negotiation or simply walked away, his recent experiences left him with little patience for malevolence, regardless of the risks.
These hardened traits were not solely the result of his ordeal in Panama. Two years earlier, a sudden bombing in northern Gaza had shattered the apartment building of his Uncle Haidar—a tragedy that claimed the life of his uncle and three of his four young cousins. The small baby, Munir, suffered injuries so severe that his life was forever changed. Zaid had witnessed these horrors firsthand during a heart-wrenching Skype call with Aunt Faiza, moments that left him overwhelmed with sorrow despite Safaa’s comfort.
Both the scars from Panama and the loss in Gaza had irrevocably altered him, instilling in him a resolve that bordered on ruthlessness. He felt as though he had regressed, unable to reconcile his past aspirations for inner peace with the weight of ongoing grief and injustice—a legacy comparable to an unending tragedy.
A Simple Job
As the rain subsided, the streets gleamed wet and nearly empty. Zaid maintained a vigilant watch through his mirrors, ever alert to any car that might be tailing him—a skill his late mentor, Lonnie Brown, had instilled in him. Every vehicle, every erratic move was noted; he couldn’t afford the possibility of being followed.
News of Deek’s newfound fortune in cryptocurrency was not entirely surprising. The man had always been exceptionally shrewd and determined. Yet Zaid silently hoped that this success hadn’t led Deek into unforeseen troubles. The nature of money often transforms character in unpredictable ways. Although his assignment appeared straightforward—locate Deek and bring him home—the unpredictable streets of Fresno held more dangers than one might imagine.
In his heart, Zaid understood that true success was not measured by earthly achievements alone, but by a higher guidance. Even when the answers seemed hidden beneath the surface, divine illumination reminded him that success was inevitable when one followed heartfelt guidance.
He recalled advising Deek during a particularly dark moment in his journey with cryptocurrency—a time when Deek had confessed feeling hopeless. Yet, pride had kept him from truly listening, and Zaid’s concern had only deepened as Deek’s fortunes seemingly shifted.
Room 9
In a sparse motel room, Deek lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The crushing loneliness was overwhelming; he had been separated from his family before, but this isolation felt final, as if escape routes had been obliterated. Unlike legendary conquerors or daring escape artists, he now resembled a covert operative stranded behind enemy lines.
Arguments with his partner, Rania, replayed in his mind. Previously, conflicts had been a dance of provoke and reaction, but now it seemed as if every facet of his being was under scrutiny. Even though his achievements in cryptocurrency should have cemented his success, loneliness gnawed at him. Along with a bitter thought of retribution towards a rival associated with Rania, his mind teetered between anger and despair.
In a hunger-induced moment of distraction, Deek contemplated a quick trip to a nearby convenience store—a brief escape from the tangled web of his emotions.
The Man With The Plan
Not far away, Manuel “Manny” Cesar arrived at the motel’s parking lot, accompanied by three trusted accomplices known for their fierce loyalty. As their van eased into the lot, Manny’s eyes immediately caught sight of a striking Porsche 911, its allure impossible to ignore.
“Look at that beauty,” Manny murmured, his voice tinged with excitement. One of the men, Oscar—a broad-shouldered fellow with a jovial air despite his imposing presence—chuckled, teasing Manny about his flair for rhymes. Their banter lightened the tension even as Manny’s focus remained unyielding.
The group debated briefly about the motel’s faded signage, but Manny was undeterred. With a mix of irritation and determination, he declared that the abandoned sign was a minor detail compared to the unmistakable signal of the prized car parked right in front of room nine.
The plan was clear: verify which room Deek was occupying without attracting the undue attention of the local authorities, who might swarm in any moment. Rather than forcibly breaking down the door, Manny aimed to coax Deek out and remove him discreetly—a task he was all too willing to undertake.
Manny’s reputation was built on executing a variety of tasks—from intimidating reluctant business owners to settling personal vendettas. His assignments, though sometimes brutal, were carried out with unwavering resolve and a sense of calculated precision that reminded him why he was the man with the plan.
As he prepared to move forward, Manny’s thoughts were solely on the imminent confrontation and the promise of a reward that could elevate him to new heights of success.
[Part 7 will be released next week, inshaAllah]
Embracing Faith, One Insight at a Time!
The teachings of the Quran have always guided my path. With a deep passion for Islamic knowledge, I strive to blend the wisdom of tradition with the relevance of today, making the timeless messages of Islam accessible and meaningful for everyone.
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