Now, lying on my bed in the Cube, I remember the call and the click of the receiver when he hung up. I remember the shock of it, then questioning how it is that death can be life’s only assurance and yet also its greatest, most devastating surprise.

Bilal put his arms around me. He said he would get cash from the bank and arrange a car for my travel to Amman for the funeral.

“What about—”

“Don’t worry. It’s not going to happen for another couple of weeks,” he interrupted my question.

“I thought you said no one could know except five hours in advance.”

“Well, I just told you. Now, you should start packing and go to your family.”

He’s right, I thought and went to pack. I was taking my time, assuming I would leave the next morning, but Bilal surprised me less than half an hour later with cash, informing me he had arranged for a car to the border.

“I wish I could go with you, or at least drive you to the border, habibti,” he said, holding my face. The terms of his last release had curtailed his movements to an even smaller radius. He’d have been arrested if he drove me.

I tried calling Jumana, to no avail. My brother called again, urging me to get there as soon as possible. He said our mother needed me, though he wouldn’t put her on the phone, which was odd.

“You should leave right away, darling, because they close the border early on Fridays,” Bilal urged. Before I could process it all, a taxi was waiting outside, only a few short hours after I woke up to what I thought was going to be an ordinary lazy Friday.

Bilal held me in a long, strong embrace and kissed me hard, like he wanted to pull me inside of him.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be back in a few days. At most I’ll be gone a week or two,” I said. He studied my face, as if trying to record every detail.

“Take this.” He pulled a sealed envelope from his back pocket. “Give this to Jehad when you get to Amman.”

“What is it?”

“A coded letter. He’ll understand. But don’t open it before you’re in Jordan.”

I put the envelope in my purse, slipped my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his chest, tuning myself to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He squeezed me again.

“I love you, Nahr. You’ve given me the best days of my life,” he said.

I got into the taxi, kissed my husband once more through the window, and set off.

That was the last time I ever saw Bilal.