Maher groaned as he pushed himself up from the bed, his muscles stiff from days of lying still. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the pale walls. He steadied himself, gripping the edge of the mattress until the dizziness passed.
Omar, who had been sitting in the chair beside him working on his laptop, stood quickly. "You good?" he asked, eyeing his friend with concern.
"Yeah," Maher muttered, rubbing his temple. "Just need to get out of here."
Omar grabbed Maher's bag from the bedside table and slung it over his own shoulder. "Alright, let's go."
They walked slowly through the bug apartment Maher leaning slightly on Omar for support. The automatic doors slid open, and the warm afternoon air hit them as they stepped outside.
"So," Omar said as they reached the car, "what're you gonna do now?"
Maher exhaled, staring at the ground before looking up. "I don't know yet."
Omar frowned. "You're not going back to the station?"
Maher's jaw tightened. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because they fired me," Maher snapped, bitterness creeping into his voice. "They said I'm banned from the force. No badge, no job, no backup plan. Just… nothing."
Omar's expression darkened. "What the hell? After all your hard work, and for what?"
Maher shrugged, opening the car door with more force than necessary. "Doesn't matter now. I've got no degree, no experience outside of being a cop. So I'm gonna go home, sit in the dark, and sulk for a while. Then maybe I'll figure something out."
Omar hesitated before nodding. "Alright. But you're not doing it alone. I'll be around."
Maher gave him a tired half-smile. "Yeah. Thanks."
As the car pulled away from Omar's home, Maher stared out the window, his mind a storm of frustration and uncertainty. But for now, all he wanted was the quiet of his own walls—somewhere to shut out the world while he figured out what came next.
The front door creaked open, and Maher stepped inside, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. Before he could even take another breath, his mother rushed forward, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Maher!" she cried, pulling him into a fierce embrace. Her hands trembled as she clutched the back of his shirt, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go. "Oh, my son… I was so scared!"
Maher stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the hug, patting her back awkwardly. "I'm fine, Mama. Really. It was nothing."
But she didn't let go, her quiet sobs muffled against his shoulder. "Nothing? You disappeared for months, do you have any idea how scared I was? " She said while sobbing.
Before he could respond, his father appeared in the hallway, his usual stern expression softened with relief. To Maher's shock, the man stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of them in a rare, wordless embrace.
Maher froze. His father never hugged him.
"Baba…?" he murmured, unsure what to say.
His father pulled back first, clearing his throat as if was preparing to say something heavy. But his voice was uncharacteristically gentle when he spoke. "You're home. That's what matters."
Maher swallowed hard, forcing a weak smile. "I'm sorry for making you worry about me, but I'm fine."
His mother wiped her cheeks, studying his face. "You don't look okay," she whispered.
His father's gaze was heavy, knowing. "You look different Maher, you look tired, even older."
Maher's stomach twisted, but he kept his voice light. " I've been away for a while that's probably why, And I've been working hard they made us do hardcore military training."
They exchanged a glance, and for a moment, he thought they'd press him further. But instead, his mother cupped his face in her hands. "You rest now," she said firmly. "We'll talk later."
His father gave a slow nod, his silence more telling than any words.
Maher exhaled, relief and guilt warring inside him. "Yeah. Later."
As he walked toward his room, their worried eyes followed him—unconvinced, but willing to give him time. And for now, that was enough.
Maher sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clenched into fists as he stared at the floor. The weight of his lies pressed down on him, making each breath feel heavier than the last. He hated deceiving his parents, but what choice did he have? If they knew the truth, their disappointment would be unbearable.
A week had passed since he'd last gone to work, and his parents were growing more concerned with each day. Every time they knocked on his door, asking why he wasn't leaving the house, he'd mutter a vague excuse before shutting himself away again. Their confusion and worry only deepened his guilt, but he couldn't bring himself to explain.
Then came a soft knock—different from his parents'.
"Maher? It's us," Omar's voice called from the other side.
Maher hesitated before dragging himself to the door and opening it just enough to see his two closest friends standing in the hallway.
"Hey," Hasan said gently, his eyes searching Maher's face. "We haven't heard from you in days. What's going on?"
Maher let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. "It's… complicated. I can't really explain it."
Hasan exchanged a glance with Omar before stepping closer. "You don't have to have all the words right now. But whatever it is, we're here for you."
Omar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man. We get that some things are hard to talk about. But you don't have to deal with it alone."
Maher's throat tightened. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of relief. "You… you really mean that?"
Hasan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course. We understand you, even if you can't put it into words. And we'll do whatever we can to help."
A small, grateful smile tugged at Maher's lips. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to carry this burden by himself. "Thanks, but there's nothing you can do, I appreciate everything you've done for me but..."
"I know Maher, Trust me I know, it's not easy to talk about something like this, especially for someone like you who lived his life with a tough face and never talks about his feelings, but you can't go on with your life like this, you need help, you must get therapy." Hasan said in a gentle tone.
Omar came closer and said "Hasan is right, apparently he knows something but he won't tell me, but no matter what it is that happened I want you to know that I'll be there for you, I know a great therapist, I'll talk to him if you want and it's going to be between the three of us, your parents don't have to know anything."
For the first time in his life, Maher felt the crushing weight of his emotions, and for once, he didn't want to fight them. He had no siblings, but in that moment, Omar and Hasan felt like the brothers he'd never had—his truest family. The thought of losing them, or worse, disappointing them, was unbearable.
Swallowing hard, he pushed himself up from the bed and walked toward them, his usual guarded expression softening. Before either of them could react, he pulled them into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around their shoulders.
The shock on their faces was almost comical. Maher had never been one for affection—especially not with Hasan, whom he had spent years pushing away, even resorting to violence in the past. Yet here he was, holding them both like they were the only anchors keeping him from drowning.
Hasan recovered first, his surprise melting into warmth as he returned the hug without hesitation. Omar, however, stiffened in Maher's grip. Omar the shortest of the three, his face was practically buried in Maher's shoulder, and after a few seconds of struggling to breathe, he tapped Maher's back lightly in surrender.
Maher finally let go, his own face flushing with embarrassment as he stepped back. The sight of Omar gasping for air while Hasan grinned was so absurd that Maher couldn't help but laugh—a quiet, exhausted sound, but genuine.
Hasan seized the opportunity. "Damn, Maher, since when do you hug? Should I check for a fever?" He reached out playfully, but Maher didn't swat him away like he normally would. Instead, he just shook his head, still smiling faintly.
"I'll try," Maher said, his voice quieter now. "I… know I need help . I'll try therapy. I'll do my best to get back on my feet." He looked between them, his expression turning serious. "But you have to promise me—you won't tell my parents. Anything."
His gaze lingered on Hasan, the unspoken weight between them clear. "And you—you can't tell anyone what you know. Or what you saw."
Hasan's playful demeanor faded into something more solemn. He met Maher's eyes and nodded firmly. "You know I don't abuse patient privacy. That's a line I'd never cross."
Maher exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. For the first time in weeks, he felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.