This is the story of a person named Zayd, who was born in a village in a Nuradiq-speaking land, the country of Nurad. He is an ordinary person, just like everyone else—nothing particularly special. It is believed that the Divine treats all people equally and fairly, based on how they perceive Him and interpret life’s events. The way one sees and translates experiences into their own life shapes their reality. However, humans often fail to recognise this fairness when their ego is inflated. A high ego blinds them to their own mistakes, hindering their growth and awareness.

  Each soul is entrusted to a person by the Divine, much like a child that must be nurtured, guided, and taught how to evolve into a better human being.

  The path to true happiness, kindness, and inner peace lies in this understanding.

  Life is meant to be enjoyed — as taught in the Book of Light, a sacred text believed by many to be the Divine's final message to humanity.

  Throughout his journey, Zayd often reflected on something that guided him more deeply than rules or traditions — something he called the Book of Light.

  It wasn’t a book in the ordinary sense, and it didn’t belong to any one person or place.

  It was like a sacred thread running through all things, a gift from the Divine.

  It offered not just rules, but wisdom — a way to meet every challenge, every joy, and every sorrow with clarity and strength.

  It taught that life was not simply about obedience, but about understanding — about waking up to the truth within and around you.

  Deep inside every person, there was something like this Book of Light too — an instinct, a quiet voice that stirred whenever something was right or wrong, good or harmful.

  It was the feeling that tugged at your heart when you saw injustice, the warmth that spread when you did something truly good.

  It was always there — soft, patient, and clear.

  But for those who ignored this voice for too long, it would grow fainter and fainter, until one day it might disappear completely — and once lost, it would be very difficult to bring back.

  Zayd had come to believe that the real journey of life wasn’t just about external success, but about keeping this inner light alive — and letting it guide the way.

  The Book of Light was written for the world to see — but the instinct was written softly into every heart, long before time itself began.

  Both were reminders that this world, beautiful as it is, is not meant to be clutched too tightly.

  Life is a passing journey, not something to be taken so seriously that we lose ourselves in fear, anger, sadness, or despair.

  Those who forget this truth often fall into darkness, weighed down by the very burdens they were meant to walk lightly through.

  This story explores the journey of consciousness—how a person can evolve from a low state of awareness to a higher one. It serves as a reminder that external events are never the true cause of change; rather, it is one’s perception and mindset that determine their path. Blaming circumstances is futile because life constantly offers choices and guidance—yet many fail to see or hear them due to a lack of presence in the moment.

  The Burden of a New Beginning

  At the beginning of a long, golden summer, in the city of Sarmida, the cry of a newborn echoed through the quiet streets.

  It was the kind of cry that seemed to carry both the fragility of new life and the weight of a future yet to unfold. The child’s name was Zayd, born in a land where silence ruled, and where even the air held its breath under the shadow of an unspoken fear.

  In Sarmida, life moved quietly. The city was nestled within the larger country of Nurad, but its streets, while peaceful, were still touched by the oppressive hand of the Ruler. People here lived their lives with caution, careful to avoid any stirrings of dissent. There were no uprisings, no protests. Life carried on in its own rhythm, though always under the weight of an unseen presence. The villagers and citizens of Sarmida had learned long ago to bow their heads and keep their mouths shut — for they knew too well the cost of challenging the Ruler's will.

  Nurad, the country in which Sarmida was situated, was ruled with an iron fist. The Ruler's face was everywhere, on walls, on posters, his eyes always watching. For over three decades, his reign had been unquestioned, and those who dared speak against him disappeared into the darkness of prison cells, never to be seen again. Torture, fear, and death were the punishments for any act of rebellion. The people of Nurad had learned the hard way to remain silent, for even a whispered dissent could erase a life.

  In Sarmida, life was peaceful, yet the shadow of Nurad's capital city loomed, and the quiet was never truly safe. The city may not have been directly in the Ruler's focus, but that didn't mean the reach of his power was any less felt. People watched, waited, and wondered when — not if — the storm would come for them as well.

  Yet even under the weight of such a world, life still began, love still bloomed. In a quiet home tucked away in Sarmida, something sacred was unfolding — the birth of a child. The mother and father gaze at their newborn son with joyful smiles. However, exhaustion is evident on the mother’s face—she has lost a great deal of blood during childbirth. The room is filled with the quiet warmth of their love for Zayd, though an undercurrent of fear, too, is always present. In a world where safety was never guaranteed, even the smallest joys were tinged with the knowledge of life’s fragility.

  A year passes, and tragedy strikes the family. Zayd’s grandfather suffers a fatal heart attack. At birth, Zayd had two grandmothers, two grandfathers, six uncles, and four aunts. However, at that time, only three of his uncles and three of his aunts were alive. The family, once full and bustling with laughter, begins to feel the weight of loss.

  Two Years Later.

  One day, Zayd’s mother calls out to him.

  Mother: "Zayd, come here."

  Zayd waddles toward her, laughing softly. He is still too young to speak properly.

  At night, his mother follows a bedtime routine to help him sleep. She sits on the floor, stretching her legs out fully, and places a pillow near her feet. Zayd lies down on her legs, resting his head on the pillow. Gently, she begins to sway her legs back and forth, rocking him to sleep.

  Time flowed gently in their small home, each day marked by simple routines and quiet joys. Zayd was growing—little by little, laugh by laugh—and though still wrapped in the innocence of toddler-hood, change was on the horizon.

  The Kindergarten Incident

  Another year passes, and it is time for Zayd to start kindergarten. However, he resists, crying uncontrollably. His mother insists, despite his protests, and he is eventually forced to attend.

  During this time, Zayd’s mother was living with her mother-in-law — Zayd’s paternal grandmother — in the same household. But over time, tensions began to surface between the two women. When their disagreements could no longer be resolved, Zayd’s mother made the difficult decision to move out. She and Zayd went to live with her own mother, who lived in a nearby building on the top floor.

  On Zayd’s first day of kindergarten, an unfortunate accident occurs. While sitting at his school desk, he injures his forehead, causing him to bleed. The incident deeply upsets him, and from that day forward, he refuses to return. His mother relents, and Zayd drops out of kindergarten, remaining at home instead.

  As Zayd adjusted to life outside the classroom, small changes continued unfolding around him. Around this time, his paternal grandmother—his father’s mother—decided to take a break and stay with her daughter for a while. With her house now empty, the family placed a large dog inside to watch over it in her absence. What might have been just a quiet, vacant home soon became something else entirely. Zayd, along with his siblings and cousins, often visited the house—not to clean or check in, but to play with the dog. Their laughter and energy filled the empty rooms, turning the space into a playground of childhood memories.

  One day, while Zayd was running away from the dog in fear of being bitten, he tripped over a rock and fell to the ground, bursting into tears. The dog, instead of attacking, simply sniffed him curiously. These little adventures with the dog became part of their childhood fun. However, when Zayd’s grandmother finally returned, the dog was removed from the house. Zayd and the other children were heartbroken, crying as they watched him go. The dog was later relocated to guard the fields, where he eventually passed away from old age.

  The Almarah Chapter — Zayd’s Early Childhood

  At a time when life was beginning to shift, Zayd traveled with his family—including his mother, brother, sisters, and cousins—to Almarah, a thriving and modern country far from their homeland of Nurad. His father had already been working there and believed that Almarah offered better educational opportunities and a brighter future for his children.

  Almarah was unlike anything Zayd had ever known. It was a land of soaring skyscrapers, clean streets, and strict rules. Everything was orderly, fast-moving, and polished. The country was rising quickly—its economy booming, its cities growing taller each year. People from many backgrounds had come to live and work there, giving the place a sense of energy and constant movement. Yet even with its wealth and progress, Almarah still held onto certain traditions, visible in its quiet mornings, respectful customs, and the hum of prayer woven into the rhythm of daily life. For Zayd and his family, it felt like stepping into a new world—one full of promise, but also unfamiliar expectations.

  During those years, Zayd faced bullying from his cousins and even his brother. They would often laugh at him and tease him, though they also enjoyed playing with him. As a child, Zayd had a habit of asking silly, unanswerable questions, such as, “Why does a lizard walk like a human?” This made him an easy target for jokes. Additionally, in his early years, he had a tendency to give everything around him a nickname, including people.

  After spending two years in Almarah, Zayd and his family returned to their hometown of Sarmida, carrying with them memories of a world very different from the one they had left behind.

  A Season of Loss, Loneliness, and Trauma

  As time passed and Zayd grew older, a quiet joy filled his days — the companionship of the many pet cats he cared for and loved dearly. He would spend hours playing with them outside in the garden, their soft paws and playful antics a constant source of comfort.

  But one season, tragedy struck. His mother, unaware that the food she had given them was spoiled, fed the cats as she normally did. One by one, they began to fall ill. Half of them died soon after, while the others met different fates — some were accidentally run over by passing cars, one was stolen, and a few more quietly succumbed to sickness.

  The loss left a deep mark on Zayd’s young heart. It was one of the first times he truly encountered grief, loneliness, and the fragile nature of the things he loved most.

  Before losing and burying them, Zayd had spent countless moments playing with his cats, often getting scratched in the process. The scars left on his right hand served as a permanent reminder of their time together.

  That same period marked one of the darkest moments in Zayd’s life. Overcome with boredom and loneliness, he began to feel a deep, invisible weight pressing on his spirit. He struggled to connect with others, avoided groups he didn’t feel safe with, and couldn't find a friend who truly understood him. This growing sense of isolation became what he would later recognise as a trauma caused not by violence or abuse, but by something quieter — prolonged boredom and emotional neglect.

  One day, while home alone, Zayd found a sharp object outside and stood frozen, contemplating a terrible choice. The thought of harming himself clouded his mind — but just as the darkness began to take over, something stronger broke through. Fear of Hell, of the Divine’s punishment, and a deep sense that life still held meaning overwhelmed him. He broke down in tears, letting the object fall from his hand, and the storm within him began to fade.

  This internal struggle was not the only fear Zayd lived with. Long before that moment, he had already begun to carry the weight of fear from other sources. As a child, he had been especially sensitive to fear. His relatives — in cruel, thoughtless games — would lock him in a dark room and whisper that a spider would come to kill him. These episodes stretched on for one to two years, leaving behind a quiet, lasting wound. Fear became a companion, woven into his thoughts, especially at night. He also experienced strange, unexplainable things — moments he now believes were paranormal — which made the fear even harder to escape.

  A Time of Fire and Sky – The War Begins

  Not long after, the world around Zayd shifted in a way no one could have imagined. The skies, once quiet, were suddenly filled with the roar of warplanes. Explosions cracked through the air, shaking buildings and hearts alike. The war had begun — and with it came chaos, fear, and the slow unravelling of everything that once felt safe.

  Zayd, still young, found himself responsible for starting the generator that powered their home. Water and electricity had become rare luxuries, and survival was now part of daily life. The days of quiet fears had turned into nights of real danger, and the sound of bombs became more familiar than the sound of laughter.

  One day, Zayd, his brother, and his cousins witnessed something that would haunt them for years — an airplane flew overhead and began dropping bombs, destroying many homes around them. Smoke filled the air, and the ground trembled beneath their feet.

  In the middle of the chaos, a member of the revolutionary forces arrived, driving a vehicle mounted with an anti-aircraft machine gun. Without warning, he positioned himself directly in front of Zayd’s house and began firing at a helicopter above, turning their home into a target.

  Fearing for their safety, Zayd’s uncle stepped forward and pleaded with the fighter to move away from the house. But instead of responding with understanding, the man turned on him. The revolutionary forces threatened to kill him — and the entire family — if he didn’t stay silent and return inside.

  A few days later, Zayd’s uncle was kidnapped. To secure his release, Zayd’s grandmother was forced to pay an extremely expensive ransom — a heavy price for a family already living under pressure. Once freed, his uncle made the difficult decision to flee the country. He eventually found refuge in Velmora, far from the fear and violence that had overtaken their lives.

  Shortly after, a bomb was dropped near Zayd’s house, shaking the entire family to their core. It was their first direct experience with death and destruction, but miraculously, they survived.

  The very next morning, the weight of fear was too heavy to ignore. The family gathered in silence, their faces pale, their eyes searching for answers. They knew they could no longer stay.

  A Life of Constant Travel

  The very next day, Zayd’s family made the difficult decision to leave their homeland. What followed was a life of endless movement, a journey that would take them across multiple countries over the years. Each new place became a temporary home, but never truly home.

  Misra

  Their first refuge was Misra, a bustling land rich with history and culture. Though it offered some safety, the transition was jarring. Life in Misra was different — busy streets, new customs, and unfamiliar faces everywhere.

  Later, Zayd enrolled in a language school, studying a foreign tongue that was widely used across many lands for communication. He continued his lessons at home, slowly adapting to the rhythm of this new life.

  During that time, an unsettling event shook the family when Zayd’s cousin was robbed. A fight broke out between him and the thieves, but thankfully, no one was seriously harmed, and the family managed to move forward.

  It was during these early days in Misra, as Zayd was adjusting to his new surroundings, that something strange and unforgettable happened.

  One afternoon, while filming with an old camera, Zayd captured something he could not explain. Later, when reviewing the footage, he noticed a strange figure moving behind him — not fully visible, but clear enough to recognise the sharp tip of what looked like a wing or claw, something unnatural and chilling.

  Another eerie figure appeared as well — two human-like hands crawling along the top of a wall, no body, no face, just silent, disturbing movement.

  At the time, Zayd had felt nothing unusual. Everything he saw existed only on the recording. It never happened again — not once in his entire life — but the memory stayed with him, like a quiet whisper from a world just beyond his own.

  Life moved on.

  Turkessa

  After their time in Misra, Zayd and his family continued their journey to Turkessa, a vibrant land known for its rich blend of cultures, ancient cities, and sprawling landscapes. Mountains rose in the distance, markets buzzed with the sounds of traders and musicians, and the scent of fresh bread and roasted spices filled the air. Turkessa was a crossroads between East and West, a place where tradition and modern life intertwined seamlessly.

  Life there brought another wave of adjustments. Zayd stayed in Turkessa for nearly a year, and though the time was brief compared to the journey ahead, the memories left a lasting mark. For the first time in a long while, his extended family—uncles, aunts, cousins—were all nearby. It was a rare moment of closeness. They shared meals, stories, and time, creating a sense of community Zayd hadn’t felt in years.

  During that year, Zayd especially cherished the time he spent with the elderly. He would often sit with them, simply listening. Their stories, spoken with calm voices and gentle humor, were filled with wisdom and quiet reflections on life. Those moments, though subtle, left a deep impression on him.

  Zayd was enrolled in a school affiliated with his homeland—an attempt to stay connected with his roots. Unfortunately, the school was later shut down due to legal complications with the local government, cutting short what could have been a more stable academic year.

  Amid the routines of daily life, a disturbing incident shook the family. One afternoon, while on a bus, Zayd’s sister had her phone stolen. She and their mother immediately confronted the woman who took it and followed her to the police station, expecting justice. Instead, they were mocked. The officers laughed at them, and shockingly, so did the woman who had stolen the phone. Despite their persistence, the police refused to act, and the phone was never recovered.

  Zayd’s sister broke down in tears, and their mother—shocked and disheartened—tried to reason with the officers, but nothing worked. It was a painful moment that revealed the darker side of the system they had trusted. There were clear signs of corruption and even racism at play. Still, Zayd’s family understood that this experience didn’t reflect all of Turkessa. As in every country, there were both good and bad people—this was simply a case of crossing paths with the wrong ones. Wanting to avoid further trouble, they decided to walk away quietly.

  Later that year, Zayd completed his tenth grade, but just as things began to settle, he fell severely ill. One night, without warning, he began vomiting violently. The episode lasted three full hours, leaving him physically drained and dangerously weak. By the time morning came, he looked pale and skeletal, barely able to stand.

  He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed a stomach infection. To confirm it, they performed an endoscopy, inserting a tube down his throat while he was still awake. It was a frightening and painful experience. After identifying the bacterial cause, they prescribed medication, and with time, Zayd gradually recovered.

  However, his struggles weren’t over. Even after the infection had cleared, he began to suffer from chronic stomach pain. Multiple check-ups and tests eventually led to a diagnosis of stress-induced colon issues. The doctors told him plainly—there was no magic cure. He would need to reduce stress, exercise regularly, and spend more time in nature.

  Zayd did his best to follow their advice, but the pain returned often and unpredictably. At times, it was so intense that he couldn’t move, or worse, it triggered more vomiting episodes—this time not from infection, but from the overwhelming pressure of stress and overthinking.

  In search of a fresh start, the family made yet another difficult choice.

  Velmora

  Soon, Zayd, his mother, and his maternal grandmother found themselves boarding a plane bound for Velmora—a distant land that promised new opportunities, but was far from the life they had once known. It had not been an easy journey to arrange. Strict immigration rules made it nearly impossible for many to enter, especially those who had already reached adulthood. Zayd's siblings, being older, were unable to join them, leaving behind a deep feeling of separation and sadness.

  Velmora was a quiet, orderly country known for its clean streets, peaceful neighbourhoods, and a culture built on personal space, calmness, and independence. The seasons were sharp and dramatic—icy winters blanketed the landscape in snow, while summers brought gentle breezes and emerald trees. It was a place of open skies, small-town kindness, and subtle structure. But beneath the surface of comfort and calm, it was also a place where Zayd felt like an outsider in a world that moved by different rules.

  For one and a half years, they navigated the complexities of a foreign culture, always carrying the weight of their past with them. When Zayd first arrived in Velmora, he was still very young, stepping into a world so different from everything he had known—where people spoke a new language, followed different customs, and lived with a sense of freedom that both fascinated and overwhelmed him.

  One of the first shocks to Zayd was attending school where boys and girls studied together. He had never experienced that before. At first, it made him nervous. He didn’t know how to act or what was considered normal in this new environment. He even went to the gym for the first time, and surprisingly, girls exercised there too. One day, two beautiful girls approached him and asked to take a photo with him. They stood close, smiling, and for Zayd, it was a completely new experience—so new, in fact, that he felt like a child who didn’t know what to do with all these feelings. It stressed him out, but it also opened his eyes to a different way of life.

  As time passed, Zayd began learning the language of Velmora. His teachers were kind, patient, and respectful. They helped him adjust, not just to school, but to the culture around him. He He realised something profound — many people in this new land were incredibly kind, polite, and full of empathy, even though most of them weren’t religious or didn’t believe much in the Divine. That made him think deeply. Could it be that good morals don’t necessarily come from religion? It challenged some of the beliefs he had grown up with and encouraged him to see the world through a broader lens.

  But Velmora wasn’t a perfect place. Zayd also witnessed the painful side of this freedom. He met people who didn’t know their fathers, children who were raised in broken homes, and families separated by years of silence and unspoken pain. Some of his classmates didn’t even know who their siblings or parents were until much later in life. Zayd saw how infidelity and the lack of committed relationships had affected many families, and it made him reflect on the responsibilities of parents and the importance of raising children with care.

  Zayd and his family had been living with his aunt, who had already settled in Velmora long before them. For about a year and a half, they tried to build a new life. But when Zayd’s mother decided to leave and join his father—who had been living in another country—Zayd was torn. His relatives urged him to stay. They told him Velmora held a better future, more opportunities. But Zayd couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from his mother.

  He wasn’t just afraid of missing her—he wasn’t ready to be alone. He knew that soon he’d have to start college and begin a life of independence, but deep down, he felt unprepared. He had never lived by himself, never been truly alone. The idea of facing that kind of change without his mother’s presence frightened him. Despite the promise of a better future, Zayd decided to leave with her.

  Maybe it was because, deep down, Zayd had always grown up without a strong sense of home. Without a father always there to lean on.

  His mother had made the decision to reunite with her husband, Zayd’s father, who had spent most of his life working abroad. He was always moving between countries for work—travelling constantly, trying to provide for the family from afar. Since the day Zayd was born, his father had rarely been home. He would visit once or twice a year, sometimes staying for three days, sometimes for twenty, but never long enough. As a child, Zayd would cry every time his father left. And eventually, he got used to the absence.

  Like many of his cousins, Zayd had grown up in a household without a strong father figure. His cousin’s father had died young, and Zayd's own father had been more of a distant presence than a daily one. The men in the family were more like brief visitors than permanent guides.

  In the end, Zayd left Velmora not only out of love for his mother, but also because he wasn’t ready to face the next chapter of life on his own. He may have left behind a land full of opportunity, but he carried with him a heart full of memories—some sweet, some painful, and all part of the story that was shaping who he was becoming.

  Leaving Velmora felt like closing a door he hadn’t been ready to walk through. But life, as it always did, kept moving forward.

  Cyrenos

  The longest stay came next — in the island nation of Cyrenos, where Zayd would spend the next four years.

  Cyrenos was a land of olive groves, rugged hills, and quiet coastal towns where the sea stretched endlessly into the horizon. Life there moved slowly, shaped by the rhythms of tradition and the closeness of community. Stone houses lined narrow streets, and the scent of grilled bread and fresh herbs filled the air. Though the island was peaceful on the surface, traces of its dividend history lingered in the quiet looks of its people and the stories whispered over evening tea.

  After leaving Velmora, Zayd travelled to Cyrenos to enrol in university, hoping to start a new chapter. But the process turned out to be far more challenging than expected. It took him an entire month just to get registered. The university rejected his application multiple times, forcing him to run back and forth with paperwork and corrections. What should have been a fresh start became a daily struggle, testing his patience and resolve.

  His father was furious, and Zayd himself felt desperate to make things work. The pressure intensified when his mother, overwhelmed by the struggle, broke down in tears and turned to prayer, hoping for divine intervention. Zayd did the same, knowing that if he failed to enrol, their sacrifice—their decision to leave Velmora—would feel meaningless.

  All of it—the delays, the rejections, the unbearable pressure—forced Zayd to confront the real reason he had left Velmora in the first place. It had never really been about opportunity or progress. It was about fear. He hadn’t been ready to be alone.

  Eventually, both he and his mother had to leave Velmora temporarily, despite knowing the risk. Due to the strict immigration rules in place, leaving before their legal status had been fully approved meant they would be barred from returning for many years. His aunt had already begun the long and complicated process of securing permission for them to stay—paperwork that required them to remain in the country without leaving. But life didn’t unfold as planned, and crossing the border too soon meant the doors to Velmora would be closed to them for a decade.

  On the very last day of enrolment, Zayd finally secured his place at a university in Nafira, a city in Cyrenos—without even having to take the language exam. Later, he transferred to another university in Kirevon, another city in Cyrenos, after his siblings completed their studies. The new university had easier exams and was more affordable.

  At first, Zayd’s brother also transferred with him, and they lived together in Kirevon. However, after six months, his brother failed his courses and left, leaving Zayd to live alone.

  It was the first time Zayd truly experienced solitude in a foreign land—with no family nearby, no one to return home to. The apartment felt heavier, the nights quieter.

  Challenges in University – Adapting to Toxic Environments

  During his time in university, Zayd encountered his first real challenge with authority. His academic adviser was a harsh and aggressive man, constantly cursing, yelling, and threatening students. The experience was so overwhelming that Zayd broke down and seriously considered dropping out.

  After speaking with his parents, they advised him to remain calm and ignore the adviser as much as possible. Following their advice, Zayd learned how to adapt to difficult personalities and, instead of developing resentment, chose to behave respectfully. Eventually, he even helped his adviser with work and, by the time of his graduation, managed to complete his studies successfully.

  He began to discover more about himself. Inspired by a story he’d watched—one about a relentless hero who trained every day until he became nearly unstoppable—Zayd found the motivation to begin exercising. Over time, he grew stronger not just physically, but mentally. His self-discipline improved, and with each passing day, he felt a little more in control of his life. Even his adviser, who had once been dismissive and cold, began to treat him with more respect.

  By the time Zayd left the university, he no longer carried resentment. Despite its many flaws, the challenges he faced there had shaped him, taught him patience, and helped him understand his own resilience.

  The university’s quality of education was poor, and some teachers made life unnecessarily difficult for students. One professor, who taught a technical subject, was particularly notorious for assigning exceptionally hard tasks. Although he was knowledgeable, he lacked the ability to teach effectively. Zayd barely managed to pass the course.

  Despite these struggles, Zayd graduated with a solid academic record and received his certificate. Throughout his final months, he even helped the very adviser who had been the cause of so much suffering. While the man lazed around his office, Zayd answered messages from confused students, relayed information, and did his best to smooth things over — not for the adviser's sake, but for the students who were trapped under him, just as he had been.

  There were days when Zayd stayed for hours, listening politely as the adviser rambled about his personal life, his fiance, and countless other matters, often seeking Zayd’s opinions as if they were close companions. Zayd didn’t care for any of it. He endured it in silence, knowing that any mistake, any flash of irritation, could be twisted against him and cost him his graduation. In the end, it wasn’t respect or admiration that kept Zayd sitting there — it was survival, and a quiet determination to escape without giving the man any excuse to hold him back.

  Before leaving, Zayd learned that the adviser had yelled at a female student who was supposed to graduate alongside him. The verbal abuse had affected her so badly that she left the university, returned to her family, and fell into depression.

  Over time, as Zayd quietly observed the adviser, he came to understand something deeper. Behind all the shouting and cruelty, the man's life was filled with sadness. He was disliked by nearly everyone, struggled with visible skin diseases, neglected his health, and often arrived at his office hours late, leaving students waiting endlessly. His bitterness seemed to spill from a life of misery, not strength.

  And yet, when Zayd finally graduated, he left with no hatred in his heart. He wished the adviser well — and wished well for everyone, even those who had wronged him. Because he understood now — the world works according to a quiet balance. The harm one spreads eventually returns, in one form or another. Life has its own ways of teaching those who cannot see.

  More importantly, Zayd realised something about himself. When a person treated him badly, he no longer saw anger as his answer. He chose to respond in a way that matched his own soul — with respect, calmness, and the intention to be helpful. Not because others deserved it, but because he felt more at peace living this way. Reacting with anger or resentment only disturbed his own heart, and that, Zayd knew, was a price too high to pay. In choosing kindness, he was not excusing bad behaviour — he was protecting the purity of his own path.

  Carrying this new understanding within him, Zayd stepped into the next chapter of his life, ready to focus on building his future.

  Qasira — A Hidden Storm – The Deepest Trial

  Depression began to set in as Zayd struggled with a lack of purpose.

  In search of new opportunities, he started looking for colleges in Europe and other parts of the world.

  But during this time, a painful and shocking event unfolded within his family — a storm that would shape all their lives forever.

  Zayd’s mother, who had dedicated herself to her family for over thirty years, began to feel quiet suspicions about her husband’s behavior.

  At first, she ignored them — trusting in the bond they had built across decades.

  But one day, by sheer coincidence, she saw a text message on Zayd’s father’s phone.

  It was from a woman who worked with him at his company — a message filled with flirtatious words.

  Her heart dropped.

  Looking deeper, she found proof that her husband had been sending money to this woman, and even booking hotels to meet with her.

  She was devastated.

  All those years of sacrifice, loyalty, and trust — shattered in a moment.

  Though furious and heartbroken, she didn’t react immediately.

  She waited until her husband came home, then called him into their room and confronted him.

  At first, he denied everything.

  But faced with the undeniable evidence, he eventually tried to calm her down.

  Zayd’s mother cried in deep pain.

  She had poured everything into this family — and yet betrayal had entered her life when she least expected it.

  At that time, the family was living in a small, crowded apartment in Qasira.

  They shared the space with close relatives.

  There were three bedrooms — one for Zayd, his brother, and their male cousins; one for Zayd’s sisters; and one for their parents.

  The apartment had two bathrooms, a small kitchen, and a large living room where the family often gathered.

  The walls were thin, the spaces tightly packed, and although there were moments of laughter, the stress of so many lives crammed together was always just beneath the surface.

  The Night of the Breakdown

  The tension grew heavier with each passing day.

  One night, with Zayd, his brother, his mother, and his father gathered in the living room, the pressure finally exploded.

  Zayd’s mother broke down completely.

  In a storm of rage and heartbreak, she threw objects, smashed belongings, and screamed uncontrollably.

  She had a full mental breakdown.

  Zayd and his brother rushed to restrain her.

  She was so overwhelmed that she tried to attack their father and even threatened herself.

  They managed to stop her, but the scars left behind that night ran deep into the fabric of the family.

  Afterwards, Zayd was overwhelmed by desperation.

  He turned to the Divine more sincerely than ever before, praying from his heart for healing, for guidance, for the survival of their family.

  Nobody outside the immediate family knew what had happened — not even the cousins living under the same roof.

  The Healing Process

  In the days that followed, Zayd, his brother, and his sisters sat with their mother, trying to comfort her.

  They cried with her.

  They listened to her pain.

  They tried to rebuild hope, though the wound was raw and deep.

  Sometimes, Zayd’s mother would come to him specifically.

  She would open her heart, speaking to him as a friend, not just a son.

  Sometimes, she would simply lie beside him, seeking safety in his quiet presence.

  The apartment, already small and crowded, felt even heavier now — a house of wounded hearts walking carefully around each other.

  Conversations between the parents continued slowly but seriously.

  Zayd’s mother confronted her husband with clear conditions.

  She told him he must compensate her for all the years she had sacrificed.

  He must swear by Divine never to betray her again.

  He must ensure that the woman he had been involved with was transferred to another branch far away.

  And he must protect the secret of what happened, so that their extended family — who held deep respect for them — would never know, for the collapse of trust would destroy not only their marriage, but the standing of the entire family.

  She warned him in words that were calm but firm:

  "If you do this again, there will be no forgiveness. We will live apart. You know how deeply respected you are — and how easily everything could fall apart."

  Faced with this truth, Zayd’s father broke down.

  He apologised sincerely.

  He placed his hands on the Book of Light and swore by the Divine never to betray her again.

  He promised to dedicate himself fully to his wife, to change, to give from his wealth, and to build a new life beside her.

  Zayd’s mother, after long prayer and reflection, made a choice.

  She decided to see her husband not as the same man who betrayed her, but as a man reborn.

  A new man.

  A new beginning.

  The Journey of Awareness

  During this time, Zayd’s mother reached out for guidance.

  She found a teacher of consciousness and self-awareness — a man who helped her understand deeper truths.

  She learned that betrayal often comes not from fate alone, but from neglecting one’s own soul.

  That ignoring small warning signs invites greater pain.

  That true strength means living awake, not blindly sacrificing without reflection.

  She realised that for years, the Divine had been sending her signs — and she had ignored them, trusting too much, giving too completely.

  Through deep prayer, spiritual study, and silent listening to her heart, she rebuilt her connection with the Divine.

  She promised herself that she would never again lose herself for the comfort of others.

  Zayd, too, was changed.

  Though he had not prayed regularly before, he began to pray sincerely during these days, asking for strength — not only for himself, but for his mother, his siblings, and his family.

  The Quiet Return of Joy

  In time, healing came.

  Today, Zayd’s parents live together — stronger, wiser, and more aware than ever before.

  They travel together.

  They laugh together.

  Their life, once broken, was rebuilt by forgiveness, prayer, and truth.

  Zayd carried from this time a lesson written deep into his soul.

  In life, even the purest hearts can suffer.

  Pain will find even those who do nothing to deserve it.

  But the Divine does not abandon those who seek Him with open hearts, with prayer, with action.

  And while life may hurt without warning, those who ask, act, and listen to the whispers of their soul will find a deeper, truer peace on the other side.

  The Uncertain Road Ahead

  After weathering one of the darkest storms his family had ever faced, Zayd turned his attention once again toward his own future.

  The path ahead still felt uncertain.

  Despite his efforts to master digital creation tools and automation systems during his year of self-study, doors remained closed.

  Opportunities were scarce, and depression lingered at the edges of his thoughts.

  But now, he was not the same young man who had once been crushed by despair.

  He carried within him a deeper patience — a quiet strength born from witnessing the fragility of life and the healing power of prayer.

  He continued searching for a new beginning.

  After extensive research and countless hours spent searching, Zayd finally found an opportunity — a college in Portava.

  He applied.

  He was accepted.

  And with a heart both heavy and hopeful, he prepared himself to step once again into the unknown — trusting, as always, that the Divine was guiding his steps toward something greater.

  Portava — A New Chapter in Portava – A New Path in Creation

  After closing one of the hardest chapters of his life, Zayd travelled to Portava to begin a new journey.

  Portava was a land of colourful streets, ancient stone cities, and winds that carried the scent of the sea.

  Its hills were dotted with bright houses and old cathedrals, and music often drifted through the narrow alleyways like an unseen friend.

  Life there moved slower, warmer, touched by a deep sense of history and quiet beauty.

  Upon arriving in Portava, Zayd enrolled at a college in Lisvara that specialised in the arts of interactive world-building — a field that taught students how to create living, breathing worlds through imagination and digital craft.

  The first month was extremely challenging.

  His first week was spent in a hostel in the city centre, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and sounds.

  The stress of the unknown weighed heavily on him.

  For three days, he suffered severe vomiting, his body rejecting the pressure and anxiety he carried inside.

  In a half-conscious state, overwhelmed and confused, he accidentally screamed at a girl passing by — scaring her without meaning to.

  After a week, Zayd moved to another hostel in a quieter region outside Lisvara.

  However, he stayed there only one night before returning to the city centre, where he found a different hostel and remained for about a month.

  During his stay, he became acquainted with two fellow travellers — a young woman and a man — who, like him, were temporarily passing through.

  The young woman and the man had only just met each other at the hostel, and Zayd observed from a distance as their friendship slowly began to grow.

  They spent more and more time together, sharing meals and quiet conversations, while Zayd remained mostly on the outside, a silent witness to their brief connection.

  One evening, the man approached Zayd privately, seeking advice. He expressed interest in pursuing a relationship with the girl and asked for Zayd’s opinion. Cautiously, Zayd suggested that he take time to get to know her first, rather than rushing into anything. He added, more as a personal reflection than a judgement, that neither of them had any experience, and it would be better not to treat intimacy lightly.

  The man bristled at Zayd’s words. “Don’t lump me in with you,” he snapped. “I’m not like you. Who said I haven’t had experiences?”

  Surprised by the reaction, Zayd calmly explained that he hadn’t meant to offend. “I was just talking as if I were reminding myself. In the end, do whatever feels right for you.”

  The conversation ended there. A few days later, Zayd saw the girl alone in the hostel. She looked withdrawn, her expression shadowed with sadness and guilt. Zayd offered a gentle greeting and tried to ask if everything was alright, but she turned away, clearly not in the mood to talk.

  Later that day, he passed by the man in the hallway. His face was tense, his mood unreadable. He didn’t respond to Zayd’s greeting and walked away without a word. Not long after, the girl left the hostel, and the man followed sometime later—though Zayd wasn’t sure exactly when.

  Rather than dwell on it, Zayd focused on his own plans. He continued searching for a room, quietly moving on with his life in the bustling heart of Lisvara.

  After a month, Zayd finally found a room with a Portavan family in a location slightly far from the university.

  He stayed with them for about five to six months, during which time they helped him obtain his official registration papers and occasionally assisted with translations.

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  The family, consisting of women in their fifties, was kind and respectful.

  Zayd even celebrated the winter holidays with them.

  Unfortunately, after their mother passed away, they decided to sell their apartment, forcing Zayd to find another place to stay.

  He then moved to another city near Lisvara, where he rented a room from another Portavan family.

  This family was exceptionally kind and supportive, making his stay enjoyable.

  The family consisted of an 85-year-old father, his 64-year-old son, and a 57-year-old daughter.

  Although the father had once been in a relationship long ago — from which his children were born — none of them had ever married or pursued relationships afterwards.

  They lived a quiet, modest life together, finding comfort in each other’s company.

  Zayd quickly formed a warm bond with them, and over time, they began inviting each other to lunch and sharing the small, peaceful moments of everyday life.

  The sister was especially reserved—shy, soft-spoken, and often putting others’ needs before her own. She rarely left the house except for brief car rides with her brother to buy groceries, and even then, she struggled to communicate with people. Going outside made her anxious, and she hadn’t walked freely through the city in decades.

  That changed when Zayd came into their lives. One day, she accepted his offer to take a walk, and together they strolled through the garden and around the streets of Portava. It was the first time in over 40 years she had gone out on foot like that—and she was glowing. Being with Zayd made her feel young again, and the joy of those simple moments deeply moved her. She began to see Zayd not just as a friend, but as the son she never had—a gift life had unexpectedly brought her.

  The brother also formed a close connection with Zayd.

  He often shared helpful advice about local job opportunities, assisted him in completing his official registration papers, and guided him through other bureaucratic steps.

  Together, the three of them made good memories — walking in the park, visiting a nearby forest, and even taking a photo together to capture the day.

  Academic Struggles and Personal Growth

  During his studies, Zayd initially struggled with one particular module, finding it overwhelming and almost failing. At times, he felt like giving up, but his father insisted that he should at least finish the course before considering dropping out.

  His time in Portava became a period of personal transformation. His awareness grew, and he began taking more responsibility for his actions and self-improvement. However, he also experienced a period of inner conflict, where he momentarily lost control of himself.

  A Struggle with Temptation and Self-Realisation

  During this time, Zayd booked appointments for sensual massages, seeking comfort in an unfamiliar world. However, each time he did it, his body rejected the experience—he would end up vomiting during the session, as it clashed with his personal beliefs. Despite this, he returned multiple times, even once engaging in an encounter that he deeply regretted.

  He grew particularly fond of one masseuse and considered asking her out on a date, but she politely declined, not wanting to complicate matters. Eventually, after spending money on these experiences, he realised they were empty distractions and decided to stop.

  Yet, another issue emerged. Zayd began searching for escorts, not out of desire, but as a test—to prove to himself that he was capable of engaging in intimacy. He did this five times, successfully going through with it four times, but each experience left him feeling empty, stressed, or nauseous.

  A Descent into Emptiness

  The First Experience

  She was slightly overweight but attractive in her own way. However, stress consumed Zayd to the point where his body refused to cooperate. Even with protection, he struggled, and the session ended without satisfaction. In the end, they had sex, but Zayd felt a wave of regret immediately after.

  The Second Experience

  This time, he met a woman from another city in Portava, slim and respectful. But on his way to her, nausea overtook him, and he began vomiting uncontrollably. When he finally arrived, he discovered that she harboured prejudice. When he told her where he was originally from, her attitude shifted. She didn’t say anything outright, but her body language and tone made it clear — she didn’t like people from his background. The encounter ended in discomfort.

  Zayd noticed her coldness, and although he had paid her, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her. She kept looking at her phone, her attention elsewhere. His excitement vanished. He asked her, “Why do you keep looking at your phone? You’ve completely killed the mood.” She gave no clear answer. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said. “Give me back my money.”

  Both were still undressed — he sat on the sofa, she on a chair in front of him. She grew irritated and snapped, “Why do you keep asking about my phone?” Zayd replied, “Because I don’t want to be surprised like this while I’m naked. It’s my right to know if someone’s coming.”

  The conversation spiralled into an argument. Eventually, she realised she had acted poorly but still refused to return the money. Zayd stood up, slowly putting his clothes back on, and said, “I don’t want your dirty money. Keep it. But know this — one day, karma will come for you. You lied to me. You never even liked me in the first place.”

  She stayed silent.

  After leaving, Zayd sent her a message: “Just a piece of advice — you know deep down this isn’t right. You don’t enjoy what you’re doing. I suggest you quit. You can keep the money, but karma will catch up with you. You’ll remember this moment one day.”

  Later that night, she called him. She apologised. She admitted that she didn’t like him because of his features, his face, and his background. Then she sent him back more than half of the money he had paid — but not the full amount — and said goodbye. They never spoke again. Zayd thanked her and wished her peace.

  The Third Experience

  Once again, Zayd vomited on his way, but this time, he forced himself to continue. The woman, unlike the others, was kind and understanding. She helped him calm down, letting him wash his face and even giving him a gentle massage. Though the session was far from ideal, it was at least a moment of human kindness.

  The Fourth Experience

  She was in her forties, and in her online photos, she looked stunning. But upon meeting her, Zayd noticed her broken teeth, and excitement faded into disappointment. If that wasn’t enough, she was constantly distracted, messaging her father, who was unaware of her profession.

  During their intimate encounter, Zayd made an unintentional movement that caused her sharp pain, forcing them to stop midway. She winced and sat up, holding herself with discomfort. As they rested and talked, she suddenly asked him if he had taken any medication, suspicious that after nearly an hour of intercourse, he still hadn’t finished. Zayd denied it, but her tone remained skeptical.

  Their conversation grew heavier. Zayd, already on edge, grew increasingly anxious—her phone had rung several times during their time together, and she had mentioned earlier that her father wouldn’t be home for another two hours. But without warning, there was a knock at the door. Her expression froze. Her father had just arrived, earlier than expected.

  Panic surged through Zayd. She quickly wrapped herself in a robe and rushed to meet her father at the door, leaving Zayd scrambling for a hiding spot. With barely enough time to think, he slipped behind the bedroom door, completely undressed, while she stood in the hallway speaking with her father—still half-dressed herself.

  After a short exchange, she convinced her father to retreat to his room. The moment the coast was clear, Zayd dashed out silently and left the apartment undetected.

  Later that night, Zayd sent her a message, overwhelmed with anger and anxiety. He scolded her for not warning him about her father’s early arrival. “I could be the age of your son,” he wrote, distressed by the emotional chaos he had just escaped. He accused her of putting him in serious danger without any thought.

  She responded remorsefully. She hadn’t known her father would come so soon and apologised repeatedly, admitting she had little experience—Zayd was one of the first, maybe second, people she had ever been with. She also revealed that it was her friends who had pushed her into this line of work, insisting it would be an easy way to make money.

  Zayd was quiet for a moment before writing back: “Those are not your friends. These people will only pull your life down. They don’t care about you. Don’t go out with them anymore—they’re not good for you.” Then he added, “What you’re doing is wrong. And what I’m doing is also wrong. You should be careful and protect yourself.”

  She said softly, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Zayd softened. He apologised for the harshness of his words but explained how close the incident came to leaving a lasting trauma. He asked about the pain she had felt, urging her to get checked, saying it was his responsibility. The next day, she told him she had a minor inflammation but nothing serious—a cream would be enough.

  Shortly after, her father decided to take her back to their home country, and she left Portava. Before she disappeared from his life, they exchanged one last message — wishes of good luck and silent closure.

  That was the moment of clarity — Zayd told himself he would never engage in such experiences again. But unfortunately, that promise did not yet hold.

  Although he had already left Portava by the time of the final incident, the emotional weight he carried still belonged to the same long, painful struggle.

  Final Attempt Before Moving On

  Despite his resolution, temptation lured him one final time before he could truly leave that chapter of his life behind. While staying near his cousin in a new place, he discovered a nearby brothel and, driven by a mix of curiosity and old habits, decided to visit.

  Inside, the atmosphere felt strange and unsettling. A row of men stood at public showers, undressing in front of each other. Zayd hesitated, questioning if he truly wanted this. Eventually, he chose a girl and proceeded to a private room.

  But as soon as the door closed, his body betrayed him once more. The overwhelming stress was unbearable. He rushed to the bathroom and vomited into the sink before anything even happened. The girl remained unaware, but Zayd knew—this was not who he wanted to be. Initially, Zayd had only requested a more restrained form of intimacy, hoping it would be enough given how unwell he felt after vomiting earlier. However, he quickly realised that his body felt distant and unresponsive, and the experience weighed heavily on him. Tired and frustrated, he changed his mind and decided to have intercourse with her using protection. But during the act, he noticed that she didn’t seem to enjoy it or even want to be there. Her distant expression and lack of enthusiasm made things even more uncomfortable. Zayd, already drained and eager to be done, focused only on finishing quickly. When he finally did, it brought him no satisfaction—just a deep sense of fatigue and emptiness.

  That was the true ending.

  Zayd made a deep, sincere promise to the Divine — a promise not from fear, but from understanding.

  He realised fully now that intimacy without love was hollow, and that breaking his own soul for temporary pleasure only deepened his emptiness.

  He sought forgiveness with a heart more open than ever before, carrying the lesson with him as a sacred reminder of who he did not want to become.

  It was the final sign, the final lesson. The cycle had ended.

  With the heaviest battles behind him, Zayd turned his focus back to the outside world.

  But the world, as he soon realised, carried its own kind of hardships — ones that would test his patience and perseverance in new ways.

  Struggles with Employment in Portava

  Before leaving for Galdania, Zayd made every effort to find a job in Portava. Unfortunately, his lack of Portavan language skills and employers’ concerns over legal responsibilities prevented him from securing work.

  He applied for jobs as a cleaner in temples, a helper in various shops, a butcher, an ironing assistant, and even a glass-worker, but faced rejection at every turn. Despite his efforts, finding employment remained an impossible task, pushing him to seek better opportunities elsewhere.

  With no work, no stable future, and a heart still carrying lessons both painful and precious, Zayd knew it was time to move on.

  Later on, Zayd successfully completed his time of learning in Portava, marking the end of a chapter filled with growth, unexpected connections, and quiet triumphs.

  Even after he left Portava, he remained in contact with the Portavan family through messages.

  Sadly, not long after his departure, the father passed away.

  But the bond they had formed in that quiet apartment remained — a beautiful reminder of how kindness, even between strangers, can feel like family.

  Finally, his journey led him to Galdania, where Zayd hoped for something different—a sense of home, perhaps, or at least a place to rest from the years of endless travel. But even here, the echoes of his past lingered, reminding him that no matter how far he travelled, the journey within was the one that mattered most.

  A New Beginning in Galdania – The Refugee Decision

  Upon arriving in Galdania, Zayd spent his first month living with his cousin in the city of Dormakahn.

  Galdania was a land of dense forests, sprawling green fields, and strong, orderly cities where life moved with a sense of structure and quiet ambition. The air often carried a chill, but the streets bustled with people of all kinds — workers, dreamers, and seekers like himself — each carving their own place in the world.

  During those early days, Zayd wrestled with an important decision — whether to apply for refugee status in Galdania.

  His situation was fragile.

  He could return to Portava, but there was little waiting for him there — no stable job, no secure future, only the growing burden of asking his father for help.

  He could also return to Qasira, but it too held little promise; it would only mean drifting without direction once again.

  Shortly after leaving Portava, he had received a modest job offer — but it required him to physically return to Portava, something that no longer felt right or realistic. After careful thought, he declined the offer.

  Applying for refugee status in Galdania, though uncertain and full of risks, seemed to be the path with the greatest chance of building a real future.

  It wasn’t an easy decision, but deep down, Zayd knew that sometimes, the harder road was the one worth walking.

  Ultimately, Zayd decided to proceed with applying for refugee status.

  While staying with his cousin, he began adapting to life in the crowded refugee shelter — a place filled with tense, anxious souls, each carrying their own silent battles.

  At first, the atmosphere overwhelmed him, but over time, he learned how to communicate with strangers, finding small ways to build trust and survive in an uncertain world.

  As part of the application process, Zayd had to complete several formalities — a slow, exhausting system where even small steps felt overwhelming.

  During the fingerprinting process, Zayd faced technical difficulties—his fingerprints failed to register correctly three times before finally succeeding.

  Once the process was complete, he was sent to a waiting area packed with people. After some time, a bus arrived to transport him and the others to the next location—a refugee camp situated in a remote area. The camp had once been a military base but was now repurposed to house refugees.

  The camp itself was enormous.

  Just walking from Zayd’s room to the main exit took about 30 minutes, and reaching the only bus station required nearly an hour on foot. Located deep within a forest, the camp was far removed from any city or town. The biting cold made daily life even more difficult, amplifying the sense of isolation and hardship he felt during his stay.

  The camp operated under a few basic rules. Taking photos was strictly prohibited. Washing clothes required booking an appointment. Some of the reception staff displayed racist behaviour, adding to the discomfort.

  The food varied—sometimes decent, sometimes poor. Meals were served three times daily. After dinner, small snacks were available or could be bought from a tiny store that stayed open until dawn.

  Residents were also not allowed to leave the camp for more than two days. If they did, they would be removed from the system entirely, and it would be considered as if they had never stayed there at all—erasing all the days they had already endured.

  Life in the camp was strict and often uncomfortable.

  Upon arrival at the camp, Zayd felt a wave of stress and worry. His first week was particularly challenging. He was assigned to a shared room with six people, all from the same region as him. His bed was on the top bunk, with no nearby outlet to charge his phone.

  For the first time in his life, Zayd started working.

  He took on various camp jobs, including cleaning, wiping tables at the dining hall, and raking fallen leaves.

  He stayed at the camp for about three weeks and successfully completed both of his refugee interviews during that time.

  His work ethic was noticed, and the manager overseeing him seemed to like him.

  Yet not everything in camp life was easy.

  Conflicts and Resolution

  One of the major challenges in the camp was dealing with roommates who smoked indoors, despite smoking being strictly forbidden. The smoke irritated Zayd, and he repeatedly asked them to stop, but they refused to listen.

  One day, Zayd returned to the room to find that a camp supervisor had spoken to the smoker about his behaviour. Hoping the rules would finally be enforced, he casually remarked, "Hopefully next time they’ll catch you and fine you for not listening." This comment angered the smoker, who began shouting at Zayd. Despite the hostility, Zayd remained calm, arguing his point without raising his voice.

  After that day, the tension between them lingered for a while, but daily life in the camp slowly pushed everything back into routine. Everyone had their own struggles, and anger eventually faded into exhaustion.

  When the time came for Zayd and his roommates to be transferred to another location, he and the smoker reconciled naturally.

  They spoke to each other casually, leaving the past behind as if nothing had happened—parting ways like old classmates saying goodbye.

  With the chapter at the first camp closed, Zayd turned his eyes toward the unknown, hoping for better days ahead.

  The Second Refugee Camp – A Tougher Challenge

  Zayd’s situation became even more difficult in the second camp, where people lived inside a converted gymnasium. Makeshift rooms were created using wooden dividers, but these provided little privacy. There were no doors—only curtains separating spaces, and no individual ceilings, meaning the entire gym shared a single roof. Any noise, smoke, or disturbances from one part of the building would resonate throughout the entire space, making it nearly impossible to have a quiet or private moment.

  For the first month, Zayd struggled to adapt.

  Each room housed eight people, some of whom smoked constantly, spoke loudly, or even practiced boxing inside their cramped spaces.

  The air was often thick not only with cigarette smoke but also with the sharp, bitter smell of drugs.

  Hygiene was another major issue, with some roommates being notably unclean.

  The situation became even more stressful when, at random hours — sometimes deep in the night or just before dawn — someone would deliberately trigger the fire alarm just to annoy the other residents.

  This went on for about a week, making life even more exhausting.

  Eventually, Zayd decided to spend as little time as possible in the room where he was living, as the environment there was unpleasant—filled with constant noise, bad smells, and uncomfortable situations. He only returned to sleep at night when he had no other choice. During the day, he worked in the camp, studied the Galdanian language, and helped by translating for other refugees and assisting the reception workers.

  After weeks of exhaustion, a small blessing finally came.

  Zayd found a private room in another building within the camp and was finally able to sleep alone for a week.

  For the first time in a long while, he felt a breath of relief.

  However, one night, two men barged into Zayd’s room—one about the same height as Zayd, the other slightly shorter. They looked a bit older than Zayd and claimed they needed a place to stay for just one night, saying that one of them was trying to hide from some trouble. At the time, Zayd didn’t know who they really were. Later, he learned that both men were known troublemakers in the camp, often involved in stealing, selling drugs, and dealing with illegal tickets. Though they came from different backgrounds, they worked together in shady dealings that caused problems for others in the camp.

  Soon after, a third man joined them, and the tension in the room escalated. The new arrival and one of the original two men were arguing loudly about money—one had trusted the other to pay a debt, but now the debt was not being honoured. The disagreement grew heated, but one of the men who had already been in the room calmed everyone down. Eventually, the argument settled, and they all left—except for the man who had been staying with Zayd in the room.

  Over time, Zayd learned that the man he was sharing the room with was involved in drug dealing and often conducted transactions inside the room. Rather than immediately fleeing, Zayd chose to stay and face the situation, acknowledging that his mindset and energy may have attracted such an environment. He spent a full month with the man, wrestling with his fears and the uncomfortable reality, before ultimately deciding that it was time to leave.

  As the days passed, Zayd listened quietly to the man’s strange stories, slowly piecing together who he really was.

  Despite the man’s illegal activities, he was friendly toward Zayd and often talked about conspiracy theories. He claimed that people were controlled by a hidden force, something like a system that manipulates and controls everything in society, from governments to the media, to keep people under its control. He believed that governments existed only to exploit citizens for taxes and that there were powerful forces behind the scenes shaping the world without the public’s knowledge. He often spoke about his troubled past, which included dealing drugs, stealing bicycles, and committing other crimes.

  Eventually, Zayd left the room on good terms with the man he had been living with, parting with kindness rather than fear or resentment.

  Even though he felt relief to be out of that environment, a part of him also carried a quiet sadness — a reminder of how complicated people could be.

  Finding Stability in a New Room

  After changing rooms three more times, Zayd finally found a more comfortable place. The room had space for five people, though one of the beds remained empty. His new roommates included two men from the same country and one from another country.

  Before this final room, Zayd had shared a room with two men who practiced the same religion as him. These men were deeply religious, but they often ignored the direct teachings of their divine book, choosing instead to follow secondary texts and narrations—stories they claimed were about their prophet. Zayd, however, had learned not to trust those who spoke in the name of the Divine without solid evidence from the divine text. He had grown to value critical thinking and verifying information for himself.

  These two men frequently tried to convince Zayd of their beliefs, sometimes using mistranslated references or offering no solid proof. Zayd recommended they watch a well-known, open-minded speaker who based his teachings solely on the divine book. They refused to do so. After a while, the interactions between them became minimal—reduced mostly to greetings—but there were no conflicts.

  Despite their disagreements, Zayd remained kind and respectful. He even helped the older man, who was in his mid-fifties and had children in both his homeland and abroad where they worked. This man had once been a journalist. Zayd also helped the younger man, who was in his late twenties and had worked in a tourism office before. Zayd assisted him with various matters while they were both in the camp. The two men were from the same homeland but had been born in different cities.

  After this period, Zayd eventually moved into his final room — a place that, while still challenging, brought a small sense of stability.

  One of his new roommates there was a man in his mid-fifties with a complicated life story.

  He was originally from the same homeland as Zayd but had been born abroad.

  Over the years, he had lived in Velmora, worked in Lunara, and had even married a Velmoran woman.

  However, the marriage eventually ended in divorce due to private problems and unresolved disagreements, leaving him without children.

  Although he wasn’t religious, he was respectful and kind in his behaviour.

  He held a strong dislike for traditionalist people who blindly followed their tribes, discriminated against others, objectified women, or behaved aggressively without reason.

  One evening, the man and a friend of his invited Zayd to join them for a conversation inside the room.

  The discussion wandered through many topics — religion, what is considered allowed and forbidden, politics, and personal beliefs.

  The friend, who followed a different religion than Zayd, shared pieces of his life story.

  He spoke about how he had escaped from military service and, in the process, claimed to have killed two people in what he described as self-defence.

  According to him, it had been the only way to escape, and as a result, he was now a wanted man.

  He expressed strong views about freedom of belief, insisting that everyone should be free to follow their own path without imposing it on others, and that no one is truly responsible for another person’s choices.

  At some point, they offered Zayd an alcoholic drink, which he politely refused. His refusal wasn’t only rooted in his religious beliefs, but also in his personal conviction that alcohol harms the body and weakens one's inner strength. Zayd had noticed that when people drank, something in their spiritual core seemed to diminish, making them more vulnerable to negativity.

  As he listened to the two men, Zayd reflected on how complicated and inexplicable some aspects of their lives were. Still, he believed that everything was somehow connected. Each time he learned something new, he would first thank the Divine for helping him become aware of it, and then do his best to grow and become a better person.

  Life inside the camp continued, day after day, with its mixture of lessons, struggles, and small moments of reflection.

  Zayd stayed in this room for an additional nine months.

  A Chaotic Environment – Crime, Police, and Conflict

  During his time in this camp, Zayd witnessed frequent conflicts, thefts, and violent incidents.

  Knives were sometimes involved, and the police were called multiple times to deal with stolen property and fights.

  Despite the chaos, Zayd found work translating in the camp’s medical office, where he stayed for several months. Through this job, he gained valuable experience and insights. He learned that nurses in the office were wary of people talking too much and were often cautious around him, possibly fearing he could understand their conversations.

  There were three female nurses and one male nurse in the camp. Among the female nurses, each had a distinct personality. The youngest nurse was often quick to anger and came across as aggressive, but she also had a compassionate side and stepped in to help people in difficult situations. The second nurse, who was around 45 years old, was the kindest and most gentle among them, always showing understanding and warmth. The oldest nurse, who was likely in her late fifties or older, was strict about following rules and often spoke negatively about others, frequently complaining about people’s behaviour. However, she was always respectful toward Zayd and even made efforts to support him, once trying to help him find a job.

  The female nurses were of varying ages.

  One was a young woman in her thirties, another was in her early forties, and the last was an older woman, likely somewhere past her fifties.

  The male nurse, who was in his mid-fifties, didn’t get along well with the female nurses. He befriended Zayd and frequently complained about the nurses, insisting that he was more experienced, having been a doctor before. Despite their differences, they all worked together in the small medication office.

  Whenever the male nurse vented to Zayd, he would listen carefully, then offer advice. Zayd tried to talk him out of his frustration, telling him that letting his ego and experience breed arrogance wouldn’t do him any good. He explained that people could sense arrogance, even if it wasn’t outwardly obvious. Zayd encouraged him to treat the nurses with respect, seeing them as colleagues who could help each other. If the environment was too uncomfortable for him, Zayd suggested that he consider finding a different place to work. However, he also emphasised that if he did choose to leave, it should be on good terms—with forgiveness and without any bitterness.

  Zayd believed that if a person left a situation with unresolved feelings, it would only repeat itself until they learned to accept and forgive. This was the lesson he had learned in his own journey.

  And just when life seemed filled only with struggles, small moments of kindness reminded him that healing was always possible.

  One time, the nurses and his language teacher in the camp surprised Zayd by celebrating his birthday. He was truly touched and grateful. The nurses baked him a cake and gave him gifts, celebrating with him quietly inside their small medical office. Since they weren’t allowed to leave the office without specific reasons except during their break, they didn’t want others to see the celebration. Zayd thanked them sincerely from his heart.

  Afterwards, he went to the school area in the camp, where his language teacher was waiting for him with a second celebration. The teacher had prepared another birthday cake and invited Zayd to enjoy some delicious food. Joining them were Zayd’s roommate and two other acquaintances they both knew. In total, five people took part in this small but heartfelt birthday party.

  Zayd was well-liked in the camp and had no enemies. His respectful and kind nature earned him the affection of many. He was also, by nature, a very curious person—someone who sought to understand people deeply and who often pondered about life, relationships, and the human experience. This curiosity was part of who he was, and it guided many of his quiet questions and inner reflections.

  Later on, while working as a translator, Zayd found himself increasingly interested in the female nurses’ thoughts and perspectives on more personal matters. He had always been thoughtful and cautious in his conversations with them, especially when it came to sensitive topics. He never wanted to come across as intrusive or disrespectful.

  One quiet moment became a turning point for him. Zayd opened up to the young nurse—the one who was in her mid-thirties about his personal views on life. It was the first time he had ever shared something so intimate with a foreign woman who came from a different culture, with different traditions, beliefs, and ways of seeing the world. He was deeply curious about how she might respond, but at the same time, a part of him was filled with hesitation. He feared that speaking so openly might create misunderstanding or even cause trouble. A quiet voice inside kept whispering that maybe it wasn’t his place.

  Despite this, Zayd gently expressed how he saw life.

  He believed that most of the events people go through are lessons meant to help them grow, and that life itself is a beautiful gift from the Divine. He also shared some of his thoughts on religion and spirituality—not to preach or impose, but out of a sincere hope that maybe his words could bring her some peace or light. He had noticed moments when she seemed stressed, distant, or sad, and he naively believed that sharing something positive might help her smile more and feel better.

  Looking back, Zayd realised that while his intentions came from the heart, it’s never easy to shift someone’s mindset—especially when they haven’t asked for advice. He came to understand that true change happens from within, and that sometimes, simply being kind and present is the most meaningful thing one can offer.

  After he shared his thoughts, the young nurse simply responded, “That’s a good way of thinking.”

  That quiet moment planted a seed of courage in Zayd. Encouraged by her calm reaction, he eventually found the strength to ask a deeper and more vulnerable question.

  After some time, and much inner hesitation—even feeling a nervous ache in his stomach—Zayd decided to open up again, this time to the two younger nurses he worked with, the one who was in her mid-thirties and the other in her mid-forties. With careful words and a soft, sincere tone, he asked why no girl had ever approached him. He wondered if, from a woman’s point of view, there might be something about him that made women afraid of him or hesitant to get close. “If you had a daughter,” he added gently, “and someone like me wanted to be with her, would you feel safe about it?”

  The nurses listened with patience and kindness, then responded with reassurance. “Zayd, it’s not that something is wrong with you—it’s just that people don’t know you. If someone hasn’t had the chance to interact with you, they can’t see how kind, respectful, and helpful you really are.” They encouraged him to be more open, to take small steps toward connecting with others, and to allow people the opportunity to see the person he truly was inside.

  Their words stayed with him.

  During this time, Zayd also made significant progress in his Galdanian language skills, slowly finding more confidence in himself and his ability to navigate the world around him.

  A Reception Job and Growing Distrust

  Before working as a translator, Zayd had a job at the camp’s reception, where he was responsible for distributing kitchen tools to residents in exchange for their ID cards. He enjoyed this role and learned a lot from it.

  However, the reception staff often suspected him of eavesdropping on their conversations. Although Zayd had no interest in their discussions, they remained cautious around him. Despite this, they were generally kind and respectful toward him, offering minimal assistance when it came to paperwork.

  Eventually, the camp decided they no longer needed someone to manage the kitchen tools in the morning, as very few people used the kitchen at that time. As a result, Zayd was dismissed from this role and later transitioned into his translation job.

  Workplace Tensions and an Unfriendly Warning

  One day, a receptionist approached Zayd with a warning, claiming that a female staff member had complained about him, saying she didn’t like seeing him in the reception area too often. However, the same receptionist who relayed this message was also known for gossiping and frequently talking negatively about others.

  This same man often criticised his colleagues, accusing them of being lazy, incompetent, or only interested in resolving fights between residents rather than doing real work. At one point, he himself got injured and had to stay in the hospital for a long time, frequently calling in sick after his return.

  The receptionist, who happened to be an old acquaintance from Zayd’s hometown, once again asked Zayd to accompany someone and translate for them.

  Although he often wanted to avoid embarrassing himself by admitting that he couldn’t manage the task, he would sometimes back out at the last moment.

  Depending on the situation — and depending on the person asking for help — he was either genuinely helpful or quick to find excuses.

  On a particular day, in front of a group of people, he turned to Zayd and said, “Zayd, can you go with this man and translate for him in another city?” The man he referred to was in his forties and had already approached Zayd privately before, asking for help—but Zayd had declined. Now, perhaps after hearing a comment or complaint about Zayd, the receptionist thought Zayd would say yes if asked in front of everyone. But Zayd refused again—firmly, and without hesitation.

  The receptionist insisted several times, trying to pressure him, but Zayd held his ground. Eventually, the man looked at Zayd with clear disappointment. Zayd, however, didn’t waver. He believed strongly in his principles—he would only help if it felt right in his heart, if there was some form of benefit or purpose for him as well, or if he was in the right mindset. He didn’t believe in forcing himself to help out of guilt or pressure. If someone didn’t like that, it simply wasn’t Zayd’s responsibility.

  Beyond that, Zayd also noticed underlying tensions among the reception staff as a whole. Some employees rarely showed up to work, while others often used excuses to avoid their responsibilities. One worker, originally from Zayd’s hometown, felt particularly frustrated—despite holding a master’s degree from a well-known university in the country they were currently in, a university with a strong international reputation, he was stuck working as a receptionist in the refugee camp.

  Zayd, however, remained detached from their issues. He had his own challenges to face and didn’t concern himself with their internal conflicts.

  During this time of emotional distance from the camp’s internal tensions, something personal and unexpected quietly unfolded in Zayd’s life.

  During his time working at the reception, something quietly beautiful unfolded in Zayd’s life.

  He got to know a girl from Galdania — a receptionist like himself, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and about the same height as him. She was slightly older, in her late twenties, and carried herself with a calm confidence. She also served as a supervisor for the small gym in the camp, where residents could exercise under her watch.

  What Zayd liked most about her wasn’t just her appearance. It was her way of speaking, her thoughtful manner, and her quiet intelligence. She was aware, flexible in conversation, and had a softness in the way she carried herself. Whenever she had time, and when the moment felt right, they would speak — brief, respectful conversations, often separated by long periods of silence, depending on her mood or responsibilities.

  Most of the time, Zayd simply enjoyed being near her in the gym.

  Seeing her, exchanging a few words, and feeling the warmth of her presence made him quietly happy — like a little kid discovering something new and precious.

  After several months, he realised that he had fallen for her. It was his first experience of truly loving a woman, and it confused him.

  He knew she had a boyfriend and was not interested in him. He knew she respected him, but nothing more. Still, the feeling grew — not possessive, not demanding — just a pure, silent appreciation for who she was.

  Zayd decided to slowly reduce their contact, understanding that there was no point in seeking her attention or burdening her with feelings she hadn’t asked for.

  Instead, he chose to honour the emotion — to cherish it for what it was— a beautiful glimpse of the heart’s capacity to love selflessly.

  He learned to see love not as a way to complete himself, but as a way to share joy.

  To Zayd, true marriage and companionship were not about filling an inner void.

  They were about two complete people choosing to share their happiness, just as one might enjoy the company of a beloved friend, a sibling, or a parent — not to complete each other, but to add more beauty to life.

  He believed that when people sought relationships only to fill their emptiness — to find love, care, or validation — they risked creating fragile connections.

  In time, the unresolved wounds would surface, sometimes leading to sadness, betrayal, or the loss of trust.

  Life at the camp continued to test Zayd in unexpected ways.

  One day, someone stole Zayd’s phone—the only time he had left it in his room. His roommates were playing cards, and Zayd had stepped out briefly, thinking it wouldn’t take long. But when he returned, the phone was gone. He reported the theft to the security staff, but they couldn’t find it. The next day, Zayd took matters into his own hands. He asked around, speaking with those suspected of being troublemakers until he eventually found the thief. The man admitted he had the phone but demanded money in exchange for its return.

  Zayd faced a difficult choice. He knew that involving the police could create a file under his name—something he desperately wanted to avoid for the sake of his refugee profile.

  After thinking it through, he decided to pay the thief, but only after the phone was returned. Once the exchange was made, word of it spread throughout the camp. A week later, one of the receptionists told a group of Zayd’s acquaintances—people who already had a problem with the thief and had been looking for an excuse to confront him. A violent fight broke out, and the thief was badly beaten. In retaliation, he returned with a large knife, escalating the situation. Security intervened, trying to stop the chaos, but things grew even more tense until the police arrived with multiple cars and took the thief away.

  One ongoing issue involved a mentally unstable refugee who frequently shouted at others, disturbed the peace, and regularly caused problems. Though clearly in need of psychological help, the camp’s management failed to address the situation properly. One day, the man snapped—he slapped the manager across the face and splashed water on him in a fit of rage. As a result, he was immediately thrown out of the camp entirely and left standing outside the fence, waiting for the police to arrive and take him away. Even from there, he continued to scream and curse at everyone inside. At one point, he insulted the mother and sister of another refugee—someone from Zayd’s own homeland—who completely lost his temper. The man charged at him from inside the camp and beat him up in front of everyone.

  These experiences showed Zayd just how intense and volatile life inside the camp could be. It was a place where emotions constantly simmered close to the surface, where both strength and restraint were tested daily.

  Yet amid all the hardship, Zayd had also discovered something gentle and rare — his first experience of true affection.

  After leaving the camp, he let go of that feeling too — but not with bitterness.

  He carried it forward like a small, bright flower tucked safely in his memory — a reminder that even unspoken, unreturned love could be a sacred and beautiful experience.

  In the end, Zayd left the camp with love in his heart and no hatred toward any of the receptionists — even those who had been overly suspicious or unfair toward him.

  Despite the challenges, he made the most of his time there, learning and growing from every experience.

  He left with a genuine smile, took photos with the reception staff as a keepsake, and even strengthened his connection with them before departing.

  Interestingly, the receptionists in this second camp turned out to be much kinder and more respectful than the ones he had encountered in the first camp.

  Receiving Refugee Approval and Moving to a Better Shelter for Refugees

  After many long months of waiting, Zayd finally received a positive decision on his refugee application — despite all the lawyers he had consulted warning him that rejection was almost certain. Out of impatience, he had even hired an additional lawyer just to get an update on his case. Coincidentally, his approval arrived right after signing the contract with her, meaning he had wasted the money with no possibility of a refund.

  Following this decision, Zayd was transferred to another refugee shelter in a city three hours away from the camp he was in. Compared to the previous refugee camp, this place felt like heaven. The conditions were far better, offering him a much-needed sense of relief — at least at first.

  A Difficult Roommate in the New Refugee Shelter

  On his first day in the new Refugee Shelter, Zayd met his roommate, a man who immediately introduced himself as someone with mental health issues and stress-related problems. He warned Zayd to be careful and not to get scared at night, mentioning that he had once hit someone in the face with an ashtray and kicked them out of the room.

  Zayd, unfazed by the warning, simply responded, "Don’t worry about it. If you try anything at night, I’ll slap you hard enough to wake you up." The man seemed surprised by Zayd’s indifference.

  Despite his initial introduction, this person spent nearly all his time on his phone, chatting endlessly with both men and women about trivial matters. Zayd often overheard conversations about romantic relationships, petty arguments, and personal dramas.

  Although the man frequently claimed he wanted to learn the Galdanian language, he made no real effort, simply attending school without actually studying. He also repeatedly tried to involve Zayd in shared activities, suggesting they cook a meal together or share food, drinks, or personal items. Zayd, however, politely declined each time, as he disliked sharing his personal belongings—especially with strangers.

  A New Roommate and an Unexpected Challenge

  After his previous roommate left, Zayd enjoyed a full month of living alone in his room. For the first time, he experienced solitude in a way that brought him genuine peace. It felt like a breath of fresh air — a time of quiet, stillness, and self-reflection that he hadn’t had in a long time. But after a month, Zayd received a notification that a new person would be joining him in his room soon.

  The new roommate arrived a few days later. He was respectful and kind upon meeting Zayd, but it quickly became clear that there would be complications. Before transferring to Zayd’s room, the new roommate had already informed the shelter management that he wanted to live with his brother, who was staying in a different building of the same refugee shelter. He asked Zayd if he’d be willing to switch rooms with his brother. Zayd agreed to at least check out the other room before making a decision.

  When Zayd visited the proposed room, he saw that it was smaller than his current one. Worse, the roommate he’d be paired with there was someone known to smoke heavily inside the room—something Zayd couldn’t tolerate. He came back and politely declined the offer, deciding to stay where he was.

  Shortly after, the new roommate requested to move his bed closer to Zayd’s side of the room. He explained that he preferred to sleep with a wall behind his head to feel more secure. But Zayd had already arranged the small room into two halves—one near the door and the other near the window—to preserve a sliver of privacy in an already cramped space.

  Zayd’s bed was pushed all the way into the far corner of the room, directly beneath the window. Above his head were the power sockets he used for charging his phone and devices. His roommate’s bed, on the other hand, was placed near the entrance of the room, close to the door. Between the two beds stood a single closet, which the new roommate used to store his belongings. This closet functioned as a divider—one of the few things giving Zayd a sense of personal space.

  But the roommate wanted to move his bed next to Zayd’s, removing the separation entirely. That would’ve placed their beds side by side, so close that when they slept, their faces would be directly in front of each other. The idea made Zayd deeply uncomfortable.

  “If you move the bed closer, there will be no privacy for either of us,” Zayd explained. “We’ll be too close. It’s uncomfortable and unnecessary.”

  The roommate pushed back. “It’s not your right to decide where I place my bed,” he said. “We’re sharing this room equally. No one has control over the other.”

  Zayd, trying to avoid a fight, told him, “Fine. I’ll speak to the shelter manager and ask what our rights are.”

  When Zayd consulted the manager, the response was mixed. Technically, Zayd had the right to maintain the current arrangement—but the manager also pointed out that it wouldn’t be kind to entirely deny someone access to a wall space for their own comfort. The comment hit Zayd harder than expected. He went back to his room, reflected deeply, and decided to set aside his ego.

  The truth was, Zayd hadn’t eaten properly for three days. His stress was killing his appetite, and the lack of peace in his own living space made every day harder to bear. He considered the reality, his new roommate wasn’t just being difficult. The man had a medical condition—something he’d explained during one of their early conversations. He had sustained a head injury while coming to Galadania, and now suffered from episodes of hand tremors and stress sensitivity. Living apart from his brother only made it worse. Zayd himself had been going through a lot emotionally and mentally, and he wasn’t in a place to handle additional stress.

  Understanding that, Zayd told his roommate with a touch of sarcasm, “I’m not moving out unless you find me a private room outside the refugee shelter.” It was his way of expressing how unrealistic that would be, considering how hard it was to find private accommodations in the city. Still, he added seriously, “But if you want to move your bed closer, just make sure you don’t block my space or bother me. I don’t care anymore.”

  The tension eased after that. The roommate agreed to maintain a respectful boundary, and their situation slowly settled. But before this mutual understanding, there had been more friction.

  In the first couple of weeks, the new roommate had brought both his brother and a friend to the room to look around. They stayed for hours, chatting loudly, making Zayd feel like a stranger in his own space. One of the visitors, the roommate’s friend, was particularly dismissive of boundaries. He casually suggested rearranging the entire room and encouraged Zayd’s roommate to move his bed right next to Zayd’s—completely ignoring the fact that he didn’t live there. Then he asked if he could spend the night in the room.

  Zayd shut that idea down immediately. “There’s no space here. If you want to sleep, find another place.” The roommate’s brother didn’t appreciate Zayd’s blunt tone, but Zayd didn’t care. He just wanted peace.

  Then one night, despite Zayd’s clear warning that it was against the shelter’s rules to let outsiders sleep in their rooms, that same friend returned. Zayd walked into the room and found his roommate and the friend sleeping in the same bed, hugging each other. Furious and uncomfortable, Zayd reported the situation to the security staff. The shelter security responded promptly—kicking the guest out and issuing a warning to both Zayd’s roommate and his friend.

  Shortly after that incident came the argument about the beds, the room change, and the complaint the roommate filed to the shelter management. He expressed frustration that despite requesting it in advance, the staff hadn’t placed him with his brother.

  Eventually, though, everything calmed down. Zayd and his roommate grew to understand one another better. They weren’t close friends, but a kind of respectful acquaintance developed between them. They helped each other out when needed. In fact, one day Zayd even helped the roommate’s brother find and enrol in a school.

  A few weeks later, the roommate finally found another room nearby and successfully moved in with his brother. It was a relief for everyone. In the refugee shelter, every room was designed for just two people—yet they were so small that even two felt like too many. Shared among forty residents were just two kitchens, two toilets, a public bathroom, and a communal shower room that contained four individual shower stalls separated by curtains. It was rarely clean, often chaotic, and emotionally exhausting.

  But through it all, Zayd found ways to stay grounded. Even in a place that offered little privacy and even less peace, he never lost sight of the quiet he had briefly known—and the hope that one day, he might find it again.

  Not long before his old roommate left, a small sign of hope appeared.

  Zayd met another resident in the refugee shelter—a man who was kind, respectful, and just as dedicated to learning the Galdanian Language as Zayd. They shared many similar views, including their mutual dislike of smoking.

  This new acquaintance had been living with someone who smoked indoors and struggled with depression. He himself was dealing with anxiety and took medication to manage his condition. When he learned that Zayd’s roommate was leaving, he saw a chance to transfer into a calmer, smoke-free space.

  Zayd welcomed the idea, and the man moved in. On the first day, he rearranged the entire room and placed his bed next to Zayd’s. Unlike in the past, Zayd didn’t get upset—he had learned not to stress over small things. He reminded himself that what truly mattered was staying grounded and trusting the Divine to guide his interactions with others.

  Although the new roommate was polite and respectful, Zayd quickly noticed his traditional and rigid approach to religion. He often quoted old religious scholars and followed their teachings strictly, sometimes misapplying or misunderstanding the original meanings of sacred texts.

  Zayd, in contrast, wasn’t highly religious in practice but focused deeply on morality. He avoided gossip, harm, and wrongdoing, aiming to align himself with the direct guidance of the Sacred Texts rather than secondary interpretations.

  As time went on, religious conversations became frequent. The new roommate often used the term “forbidden” carelessly. Zayd cautioned him, saying that labeling something as forbidden without true knowledge implied a level of understanding that no human could claim to have with certainty.

  Zayd suggested he watch a scholar known for his clarity, deep knowledge, and unwavering focus on the Book of Light—a man who had thoroughly studied its contents and only spoke on matters explicitly mentioned within it. He believed that this text, preserved in its original form by the will of the Divine, needed no additions or alterations. The scholar’s teachings were rooted solely in what had been divinely revealed and protected from distortion.

  The roommate watched a portion of the video but continued to press Zayd for explanations instead of forming his own understanding.

  Zayd gently said, “Don’t rely on me—just watch the video and see for yourself. What he says is clear and doesn’t need extra commentary.”

  But the roommate remained attached to the scholars he had always followed, hesitant to question traditional authority. He also wanted Zayd to watch his preferred speakers, unaware that Zayd had no interest in them.

  Ending the Debate

  After weeks of unproductive back-and-forth, Zayd decided to end all religious discussions between them. He said, “If you truly want to understand faith, watch the scholar I recommended. Otherwise, let’s not discuss religion. Everyone should follow what they believe in and what makes sense to them. In the end, we’re all responsible for our own actions, beliefs, and how we treat others.”

  From that day onward, their conversations remained surface-level, mostly centered around their shared goal of learning the Galdanian language.

  Epilogue

  Zayd’s Journey of Growth, Learning, and Faith

  As time moved forward, so did Zayd.

  Zayd’s story continues as he gains new experiences, learns from his mistakes, and commits to improving—bit by bit, even if it's just by one percent each day. He’s come to understand that life is a journey of continuous growth, shaped by both joy and hardship, and best lived with an open heart.

  Through all these stages of his journey, Zayd has discovered how to enjoy life properly, cultivate happiness, and practice kindness—even toward those who may not deserve it. He has learned that hating others is futile and that taking life too seriously only leads to unnecessary suffering.

  Although he once committed actions that the Divine warned against, he later realized why they were forbidden. His regret led him to fully understand the importance of commitment in relationships, the necessity of witnesses in marriage, and the responsibility of providing security for a partner in case of separation. While there are additional details on this subject, Zayd encourages people to seek knowledge themselves rather than blindly following what scholars or others say. He believes in using one’s own mind and reasoning to determine what is right and true from within.

  The Law of Reflection and Fear

  One of the most profound lessons Zayd learned is that the way you treat yourself is often how others will treat you. Self-respect attracts respect from others. While exceptions exist due to different circumstances, the people we encounter are often reflections of our inner world—what we carry inside us is mirrored in those around us.

  Similarly, Zayd realized that the things we fear most tend to manifest in our lives. Fear acts like a magnet, bringing unwanted situations. Instead of living in fear, he learned to embrace life, have fun, and avoid overcomplicating things. He believes that universal truths—such as avoiding harmful behaviors, dishonesty, or betrayal—are clear and need no debate.

  For those seeking deeper understanding, he suggests listening to sincere and clear-minded interpretations of life and spirituality—free from fear, dogma, or manipulation.

  Faith as a Source of Strength

  What kept Zayd mentally strong through all of life’s difficulties was his unwavering belief in the Divine. Without faith, he believes it would have been nearly impossible to see hardships as hidden blessings. His experiences taught him that no excuses are valid—everyone enters this world under different circumstances, but it is not the situation itself that defines a person, rather how they perceive and respond to it.

  For example, when someone treats you poorly or hurts your feelings, it often reflects their own struggles or a lack of self-respect. However, Zayd also understood that this wasn’t always the case—sometimes people act with full awareness, choosing to be hurtful simply because they can. There are countless possibilities behind why someone behaves badly. Still, he learned that kindness, even toward those who wound you, remains the best path forward. Holding onto grudges only weighs a person down, while choosing forgiveness protects one's own heart and peace.

  Zayd also discovered that every individual has an internal guide and that the Divine is close to everyone. Whenever he had questions, he simply asked for guidance. If answers didn’t come immediately, he learned to trust that the timing wasn’t right and that patience was necessary.

  But healing was not always a straight path for Zayd. Along the way, he faced private struggles that tested his patience, his self-respect, and his faith.

  One personal struggle that Zayd carried silently for a long time was his addiction to adult content. In the beginning, his deep fear of the dark made it nearly impossible for him to sleep at night. Desperate for rest, he discovered a harmful method to distract his mind and fall asleep — watching adult content.

  At first, it seemed like a temporary solution. But over time, it became an addiction that drained his energy, blurred his mind, and clouded his spirit. In Zayd’s culture and traditions, such subjects were never openly discussed. Parents did not explain how life began or talk about the realities of intimacy, leaving Zayd with unanswered questions and confusion that he tried to solve alone.

  He realized later that one of the reasons he turned to such distractions was a deep yearning for love, comfort, and acceptance — feelings he had not fully given to himself. Another part of him simply needed to numb the fear and stress that filled his nights.

  For a long time, the addiction consumed him almost daily, leaving him exhausted in both body and mind. It weakened his concentration and dimmed his natural brightness. Yet day by day, with deep reflection and countless questions whispered to the Divine, Zayd began to understand himself more clearly.

  He asked himself why he was doing this. Was it truly what he needed, or was he searching for something deeper?

  With time, patience, and sincere effort, Zayd managed to break free from the chains of this habit. He realized that true love and peace would never come from external distractions but could only be nurtured from within.

  He turned to the Divine with honesty and asked for forgiveness — not out of shame, but out of love for himself and a desire to become a better person. It was a silent victory, a deep and personal awakening that helped shape the man he was becoming.

  Freedom of Choice

  This story was never written to force anyone to follow a certain path or belief.

  The Divine has given each human being the gift of free will — the freedom to choose, to seek, to believe, or not to believe.

  Your life is yours. Every choice you make is born from your own will, not from a fate written without your say. The Divine already knows what you will choose, but you are the one who walks the path, step by step. No situation can truly force you to betray your heart unless you allow it. And the moment you feel that your freedom is lost, your inner self — the pure child inside you — will feel sadness, anger, or confusion.

  Falling into the mindset of being a helpless victim is dangerous. It only invites more suffering, slowly closing the heart and trapping the soul.

  Everyone is free to believe in what brings them peace, as long as it does not harm themselves or others. The Divine simply recommends faith as the most secure way to walk through life — a way that strengthens you against fear, anxiety, and the endless worries of tomorrow.

  At the end of all things, what matters most is what you did with the life you were given. Your choices, your efforts, and your honesty will stand with you — and the Divine will judge every person with complete fairness, based on their knowledge, their belief, and the light they chose to follow.

  Zayd’s life was shaped by one simple rule.

  What you love to happen to yourself, your family, and your loved ones, do for others.

  What you hate to happen to yourself, your family, and your loved ones, avoid doing to others.

  If you would not want someone to curse you, do not curse them.

  If you would not want someone to hurt your sister or daughter, do not hurt someone else's.

  If you seek respect, begin by respecting yourself — not just in words, but in actions and thoughts.

  You are not simply a mirror of how others treat you.

  You have your own soul, your own dignity, your own freedom.

  Act from your heart, but not from wounded emotions. Listen carefully, and when you are unsure, turn quietly to the Divine and ask for guidance.

  That is what Zayd did — again and again.

  Every time he was lost, every time he faced a choice too heavy to bear, he asked the Divine for help. And slowly, over years and struggles, the right answers found him.

  Each human soul needs something to believe in — because we were made that way.

  And what you choose to believe is your sacred right.

  The Divine invites you to believe not by force, but with an open hand — a quiet invitation saying,

  "I am always here, whenever you truly seek me."

  In this life, we will all stumble.

  But faith, sincerity, and honest striving will always open the way back to the light.

  And so, remember, if you ever need help, direction, or clarity in life, just ask the Divine. He is always there, waiting to guide you in the best possible way.

  You are never alone in this journey.You are never alone in this journey.

  And so, after walking through his long journey of questions, struggles, and growth, Zayd offers his final reflections — not just for himself, but for anyone who wishes to listen.

  Final Words from Zayd

  Zayd’s journey taught him that growth, self-discovery, and faith are not distant dreams — they are the quiet work of every sincere heart.

  Through hardships, lessons, and realisations, he came to understand the deeper truths of life: that everything happens for a reason, that perspective shapes reality, and that the Divine is always guiding us in ways we may not immediately see.

  His story is not just about himself — it is a reminder for anyone who reads it that life is a journey of learning, and every experience carries a purpose.

  Some people follow traditions so blindly that they never stop to ask whether they are truly right. But just because you have done something your whole life doesn’t mean it is good for you.

  Change takes time — and it depends on how deeply a belief is rooted. Like quitting a habit, it’s not about flipping a switch. It’s about awareness, intention, and honesty with yourself.

  Traditions and religion can shape character, but they don't guarantee good morals. What truly matters is how you respond to life, what you prioritise, and how willing you are to grow.

  If your beliefs make you feel trapped, unhappy, or disconnected — question them. Look at your results. Look at your peace. If your prayers aren’t helping, maybe it’s time to reconnect, not just follow.

  True faith brings lightness, kindness, and freedom. It helps you grow — not just obey.

  Start with yourself. Heal the inside, and the outside will follow. ??

  The Divine is always guiding those who truly want to be guided.

  Stay present. Stay awake. Stay kind. May your own journey be filled with light, and may your heart always find its way home. ?

  And now, a few final words from the storyteller to you — the reader who walked this path alongside Zayd.

  A Message to the Reader

  "This is a message of gratitude to all those who took the time to read this story. My intention in sharing this story is to offer something that might speak to those who’ve faced similar situations — and to anyone searching for meaning, strength, or a little more light in their life.

  I hope it encourages people to trust themselves more deeply, and to live with greater happiness, health, and love. This story is inspired by real experiences, reshaped through fiction. May these words bring comfort, clarity, or a small spark of light to those who need it. This story was written with deep respect for all people and all perspectives. The names and places were fictionalized to avoid causing harm, judgement, or offence to anyone.

  Its purpose is not to criticise, but to awaken — to invite you to think for yourself, to question what’s around you, and to reflect on your path with clarity and sincerity.

  You were given a mind and a heart — use them. Don’t follow blindly. Ask yourself if this is right. Ask if this is true. Ask what you are doing with the one life the Divine has given you.

  I personally do not believe in reincarnation. To me, life is not an endless cycle, but a precious, one-time opportunity — and the weight of our actions, intentions, and sincerity is what will matter in the end. The Divine sees the truth that no one else can. You cannot deceive Him.

  So even if you die before reaching your goal, if you were working sincerely toward something good, your effort is not lost. It will be counted. Because pure intention — that's what lasts. Thank you for reading this story. I hope that you enjoyed it or that it offered you something valuable to take with you on your own journey."

  May peace be with you. ?