But mostly we didn’t speak much, especially in the first few days of his return. You are everything, Nahr filled all the rooms and the silence echoed with those words when we were together.

The first morning after his return, I arrived just as one of his aunts was making coffee. “Good morning, daughter!” she said. “I’m glad you’re here early. I have to get home. My grandson is sick. Here, take over the coffee.”

Bilal was sitting on the terrace looking out upon the valley. The Jewish-only settlement jutted on the hill in the distance like a tumor, acres of olive and fruit trees separating us from them. He looked like an old man, with sunken eyes and protruding cheek-bones. His head had been shaved. I approached slowly, not wanting to intrude. “Morning of goodness,” he said, a smile in his eyes.

“Morning of light and jasmine.” I joined him with coffee and a kiss. Now, in the Cube, I conjure those glorious, quiet mornings with Bilal and the morning sun, the land, the threats, and the breeze caressing our faces.

I carried the coffee tray back to the kitchen and prepared a simple breakfast. Bilal made his way inside. The wind hummed from the terrace, rustling the leaves, playing the chimes and merging with the small sounds of our breakfast—the swish of water from the faucet, the whistle of the teakettle, the occasional clank of a plate or knife, the squeak of the oven door, the rhythmic thump of Bilal’s cane as he moved, then the sipping of hot mint tea, the tearing of hot bread. I hadn’t wanted to disturb the symphony of our silence, but Bilal’s voice was a welcome interlude. “Why didn’t you remarry? You could have gotten a divorce for abandonment a long time ago without having to come here.”

I continued to eat, considering my answer.

Moments passed. Finally I said, “I don’t know why. Why didn’t you ever marry?”

“I didn’t want to have anything to lose. Did you want to remarry?”

“No.”

“Did you imagine being unmarried forever?”

“Technically, I’d be a divorcée forever.”

He chuckled. “Smartass. Is that how you saw your future?”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing in particular. I just want to understand you. I’m wondering if you were happy without a partner.”

“Are you withdrawing your proposal?”

“Technically, I never proposed.”

I didn’t like that he said that, even though I knew he was joking. “According to the whole town, you did,” I said.

“Well, I am honored, and over the moon that we’re getting married.” He grabbed my hand.

“Technically, I never accepted.”

He laughed. “According to the whole town, you did.”

We let the lovely quiet move in again. Then he said, “You don’t mind that I’m …” He hesitated, looking at his own body. “… that I’m like this?”