“He’s his enemy, damn him!” I interject.

“Now, I want you to cheer up!”

—

“I heard that Karam Younis is asking for your hand?”

“Yes, he is.”

“The damage can be repaired.”

“No, I refuse to go along with that kind of deception.”

“You mean you’re going to let him know the truth?”

“I think that’s the best way.”

“You’re a remarkable girl! So many people are without principles these days. Are you going to tell him who it was?”

“That’s not important.”

“It would be better not to.”

—

As I enter the cafeteria, Ahmad Burgal sees me and shouts, “Welcome!”

I sit in front of him, silent, while he begins to make a sandwich and tea for me. Just two people on this earth have brought about whatever happiness we have known: Ahmad Burgal and Umm Hany. Recollections come flooding in upon me: a cup of tea, a sandwich, a little flirtation, and the music of a flute heard in hell, like clear drops of rain falling on a pile of garbage.

Amm Ahmad says, “Abbas’s success is a good omen. It’ll make up for the past.”

“But he’s left without a word.”

“Don’t be upset. No one here is worried about it.”

“And Tariq Ramadan?”

“He’s half crazy.”

—

I went through a terrible new ordeal. I’d been determined to confess—I was respectable and modest and I hated deception—but at the last moment I’d been silenced by fear. Karam seemed such a commendable young man, serious and loving. Would I lose him? Fear kept me silent until the door had closed on us. My weakness appalled me, I wept. The truth now stood between us, naked, taut, ready to serve any purpose. “I am a criminal,” I whispered. “I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you beforehand.”

The grave look in his eyes baffled me. What I’d dreaded was taking place. “I was so afraid of losing you. You must believe me: I was raped.”

I lowered my eyes, frightened by his agitation. I said things and he said things, but our words were lost in the intense heat of our agony. His voice was engraved on my consciousness: “The past doesn’t matter to me.” I cried all the more, but some unexpected ray of hope had appeared to me. I told him that he was gallant, that I would dedicate my life to making him happy. I dried my eyes. “How easy it is for the innocent to be lost,” I whispered.