# Chapter 3: The Summit Helmsman **A Dystopian Serial Novel – Part Three**

At noon, Thabit returned home feeling a great sense of relief. He had discharged the heavy waves of distress that had haunted him before climbing the mountain and seeing Shahine. Shahine, who always proved to him how joyful life could be, despite all forms of misery, illness, and helplessness an individual might suffer from.

🌿✨🌿

"All types of happiness resemble one another, but each pain hurts in its own unique way." Thabit muttered this sentence to himself, then resumed his train of thought: "Tolstoy was right when he said it; he precisely described what stirs within my soul. The pains I feel are diverse—torn between a helplessness to save those I love, and a helplessness to save myself."

✨🕯️✨

"Perhaps Shahine, despite losing his sight, possesses an enlightened insight that comforts his soul, keeping him steadfast and a true fighter in this life. Even though he is well over sixty and now just a shepherd who doesn't even own the sheep he tends, he feels his achievement and takes pride in it. How vastly different he is from me!"

🌱🕊️🌱

"I, a young man who hasn't even reached thirty, am unsatisfied with being a teacher of an important subject—a position where I enjoy decent respect among my students. Meanwhile, he is utterly happy for succeeding as a poor shepherd. He had come to this village mysteriously; one of the farmers found him thrown on the mountain, unconscious, his clothes torn, and blood covering his head. Apparently, that accident caused him to lose both his sight and memory. Yet, in a short time, he managed to rely on himself and find a place for himself among us. In fact, I have begun to doubt if he is more important than I am. Every time I see this man, he reinforces in me that happiness is not found through mere contentment, but through striving until achieving self-realization with whatever natural traits the Creator has bestowed upon you."

✨⛰️✨

"Thabit Al-Rumh, my handsome friend! How are you, man?!"
A nearby voice echoing from a luxurious car abruptly cut through the sequence of Thabit's thoughts. At first glance, Thabit didn't recognize the speaker until the car window rolled down, revealing the face of a young man in his late twenties. Thabit cried out with joy: "Omar?!"
"Yes!" Omar replied.

🚗💫🚗

Omar stopped the car and stepped out, embracing his friend with intense eagerness. Omar was a dark-skinned young man of average weight and stature, possessing a good measure of handsomeness. He had wide black eyes with a look full of vitality, and held a great share of acceptance and charisma. His hair fringe was relatively long, covering his narrow forehead. He wore a grey short-sleeved sweatshirt with black jeans. He flashed his charming smile that illuminated his face, after which Thabit said in a joyful tone:

🌟🧥🌟

"When did you arrive from the Gulf?"
"The day before yesterday."
"And this car is yours?"
"It's mine! And what's more, I bought a luxurious house in the city."

💵💔💵

Thabit grew tense. In a mysterious way whose essence he couldn't comprehend, the sense of pride that had been swelling in his chest just seconds ago began to recede. Silence prevailed for moments, then Omar resumed the conversation:
"And you?"
"Me, what?"
"How are things with you? What's your news? No, don't answer me now. Let's get into the car so I can drop you off, and we can talk on the way."

🛋️🚘🛋

The two young men got in and began talking at a rapid pace, as if the conversation would slip away from them—or rather, as if it would slip away from Omar alone. Omar was entirely preoccupied with his stories of expatriation and the high salary he earned, chattering without interruption, while Thabit remained in absolute silence, nodding his head at times and gesturing at others. This exhibition of a narrative feast was sharply cut short by a dry question directed at Thabit, piercing his heart like a surgeon's scalpel aiming to extract a bullet embedded in the weakest spot of the body:

⚡🩺⚡

"And you, man, you haven't told me yet. What's the news about you and your sweetheart? Are you engaged yet or not?"
At that exact moment, Thabit recalled Shahine's words about the blunt question one person asks another just to expose their inability to achieve a certain goal. After a heavy silence, Thabit said:
"Lubna... left me."

🍂🕊️🍂

"Left you?! Why?"
"She got married."
"Married?!"
"Yes."
"How? And why?!"
"A wealthy man proposed to her, so her father agreed, out of greed for money."
"And how could you let her slip through your fingers? You should have bought a house, secured a sum of money, and rushed to propose to her as fast as you could! I wish you had told me, I would have loaned you the money."

💰💔💰

"My dear friend, I am a teacher with a salary that equals roughly five percent of yours. How can you ask me such questions?!"
Omar swallowed his spit and said in a quiet tone:
"Forgive me, my friend."

🏡🕊️🏡

The two young men arrived at Thabit's family home. Omar declined to come inside, promising a visit soon. Thabit entered the house; the aroma of rice pudding dessert, laced with orange blossom water and lemon zest, filled the place. "Um Thabit" was in the kitchen, and the clattering sound of utensils could be clearly heard, cloaking the home in a warm family atmosphere. On the living room carpet sat two little girls: Raneem and Leen, the daughters of his sister, Shaima. Raneem, the elder, was a carbon copy of her maternal uncle in appearance. As for Leen, she was dark-skinned with soft, gentle features, delicate and graceful like a gazelle due to her sheer charm; the most beautiful thing about her was that innocent childhood ignorance that made her closer to a piece of sugar.

🧸🐱🧸

They were playing with small dolls shaped like dwarfs, some other animal toys, and a single doll shaped like Aladdin.
The voice of Um Thabit came from the kitchen:
"Thabit, is that you?" She asked this question though she already knew the answer.
"Yes, Mother."
"Come here, I need to talk to you."
"Alright, I'll wash up and join you."

🍋🥛🍋

Thabit approached the two girls and kissed them. Then he went inside, washed up, and joined his mother in the kitchen. Um Thabit was a woman in her fifties, plump but without excess weight, possessing extremely gentle features—so much so that she appeared years younger than her actual age. The beautiful mother was pouring the rice pudding dessert into small bowls, sending the scent of orange blossom water mixed with milk wafting through the space. Thabit approached her, inhaling the sweet aroma of the dessert. He laughed, then said:

🥣✨🥣

"The great Um Thabit, what a masterpiece!"
"Rice pudding, it's Shaima's favorite."
"By the way, where is Shaima?"
"Taking a walk with her friend, to improve her gloomy mood."
Without any reaction showing on his face, he asked: "Is it the same case?"
She sighed, then said: "Yes."

⏳🍂⏳

Thabit felt a shiver run down his spine. He turned around and left his mother alone in the kitchen. He sat on the sofa, scrolling through his mobile phone. Yet, he was only physically present with his phone; his mind was swaying with his thoughts. He told himself:

"There are things that happen to us daily in the background of life's repetitive routine, which we might not focus our attention on. But in our subconscious, we realize that we must act toward them in some way. Like a neglected wall clock, broken for a long time, whose repair we might procrastinate—or even procrastinate getting rid of altogether. We simply think that its presence won't hurt. But the important matter—which we overlook—is that things with no value in our lives, while lingering like a worn-out spiderweb in a deserted corner of the place, will drain our energy bit by bit. And so was my sister's marriage; it meant nothing but trouble."

🕰️🕸️🕰

Thabit relaxed on the sofa, and his regrettable memory with Lubna flashed before his eyes...

To be continued...

Written by
.Lama, mother.dragons

Catch up on Part Two here

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Catch up on prart one here

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