"You silly little girl, you think you've survived so long that survival shouldn't hurt anymore. You keep trying to turn your body bullet proof. You keep trying to turn your heart bomb shelter. You silly thing. You are soft and alive. You bruise and heal. Cherish it. It is what you are born to do." - Clementine von Radics 

~ Video on the side of what Yasmine sings.

Epilogue - The Past and The Present.

Many, many years later...

I bit my lip and scanned my eyes over the various colours spread out on the palette. After much contemplation, I dipped my thin brush into the brown coloured paint and slowly began to dab the colour onto the canvas, every ounce of concentration released into the brush's movements. I paused after a few moments, scrutinising my work with trained eyes. I regrouped my thoughts, and formed a better visual in my mind of the scene I was attempting to recreate. It wasn't hard - after all, I was painting a place I had been to before.

A place of the past.

The past was a comical little thing. Naturally, humans easily bruise. Everything within our mind is inconclusive....and thus, we can never decide to hold on tightly to our past, or let it go, as if it was a ton of bricks weighing on our shoulders. 

I smiled, relishing in the joy of being able to sweep my brush freely against the canvas. The wet paint shone against the blinding white of the support base I was using. I picked up my knife and began to make scattered lines over the paint, highlighting and adding detail to specific areas. My fingers were splattered with varying colours of ink, dirty from being holed up in this drawing room for hours on end.

But...I loved it. 

Painting wasn't merely a mode of creative expression to me. Indeed, it was much more. It was during these times, as I sat on my wooden stool, my gaze drifting between the outside world and my canvas, cup of tea by my side and most importantly, my equipment laid out in front of me, that my happiest moments came knocking for a visit. Nothing of bitterness followed me here. 

As soon as the brush would hit the canvas board, reflections emerged and they'd be instantly drawn, a manifestation of my emotions, but more than anything, of my inspiration. It was during these times, the wisest of epiphanies attacked me, minute details that had previously been forgotten would make themselves known and the appreciation and preservation of the past would occur. 

When I was younger, I couldn't wait to be old. And now that I am old, I dream to go back to my youth. And such was the cycle of our thoughts. 

I continued to effortlessly dance my brush across the white material, waiting for the moment it would take place. On and on I went, until finally after ten minutes, I felt it. The familiar feeling of a flashback reigniting in my mind. 

I woke up sobbing, like I had been for the last few nights. I put my right hand over my mouth and turned away from Zach's sleeping form. I didn't want him to hear this.  I wrapped my other hand around my waist, feeling more vulnerable than ever. After half an hour of weeping until I felt completely numb, I couldn't take it anymore. All the pent up frustration, shock and confusion over the last few days had rendered me indifferent and so I got up and walked out of my room. 

As soon as I stepped foot into the kitchen, I picked up the nearest vase and threw it against the wall. It smashed and cracked into tiny little pieces, the glass flying all around the living room and over the lush ivory carpet. I was breathing heavily by this stage, my hand on my stomach. Tears were still silently running down my face, yet I made no effort to wipe them away. 

They were a symbol of my sadness and they had a right to be there. 

"Yasmine?! Are you OK?" Zach came barrelling into the room, his tired eyes travelling from my frozen body to the broken glass on the floor. His brows knitted in confusion.

"No Zach," I said, my voice hard. "No, I'm not." His expression was instantly replaced with that of worry and within seconds he was in front of me. 

"Baby what's wrong? Talk to me." He lifted his hand and removed the salty tears off my face. I had no energy to stop him, a sudden wave of exhaustion coming over me. 

"I can't do it," I weeped, putting my face in my hands, ashamed at my own weakness. 

"Can't do what?! Tell me!" He pried my hands away from my face and I looked up at him sadly.

"I-I can't - I don't think....I can." I was on the verge of hysterics now, and I was immediately folded into Zach's arms. 

"You're scaring me now. Yasmine, please, tell me." His voice was desperate now.

"I can't have this baby," I whispered, keeping my face hidden in his chest. I felt him stiffen and for a few seconds, all I could hear was his harsh breathing. Slowly, he removed his arms from around my waist and staggered back to stare at me. 

"You're - you're pregnant?" he asked, his voice laced with shock, his green eyes wide. They flickered to my stomach in disbelief. I nodded at him, slowly, almost robotically. "Alhamdulillah, that's great!" he suddenly exclaimed, taking me by surprise with a large smile spreading across his face. Of course he was happy. Under normal circumstances, I would be too.

"No, no, you don't understand. I'm not ready, I can't - I can't do this." A fresh flow of tears leaked out from beneath my lids and I watched as realisation dawned on Zach. There was nothing more I desired than to be stronger, but I just couldn't. I don't know why - maybe it was the hormones. Or maybe I really was just weak.

"Yasmine, what do you mean you're not ready? What's this about? You will be an amazing mother, do not doubt yourself for a second!" he voiced, his tone dripping honesty and sincerity. I wanted to believe him. 

He put his forefinger under my chin and lifted my face so we were eye-to-eye. I didn't miss the glimmer of admiration and love in his green eyes. But yet, I shook my head defeatedly. "I'm only nineteen! I don't know anything about motherhood! And, and what about my degree? My career?" He came closer, but I pushed him away stubbornly. "It's too early!" I yelled, sobbing all over again. I had tried so hard over the last week to get my emotions in check but it was out of my control. 

"Hey, hey!" Zach swiftly picked me up and carried me bridal style, back into our room. He placed me gently on the bed and lay down next to me, bringing my face to his chest and wrapping his arms around me comfortingly. "Listen to me Yasmine," he spoke softly, in a low voice, yet the determination in his voice could still be heard. "I love you. Do you know what that means? That means that you'll never have to be alone in anything again. You're not having a baby...we're having a baby. We can do this together habibti, no one expects you to do this alone. Let Allah SWT be my witness...I promise I will be there with you, every step of the way." 

The glaze over my eyes slowly dispersed and I felt myself being immersed back into reality. I grinned, despite the memory. Oh, what a fool I had been. I don't think I had ever doubted myself, more than that time. I had truly believed my life would crumble, but little did I know, our first son was the ultimate blessing in disguise. He had brought me and Zach closer than we had ever been. 

"You ready?" Zach questioned, standing right next to me, his hand in a firm grasp with mine. 

"No," I heaved, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the bed rest. On cue, a nurse dabbed at the perspiration travelling down my face and I was grateful for the cool cloth against my heated body. 

"Yes you are," mum said, standing on the opposite side. She pecked me on the cheek and grasped my free hand, giving a soft squeeze. I smiled up at her softly, tiredly. 

"Thanks mummy," I whispered, not caring how childish I sounded. I closed my eyes again in an attempt to get some sleep, but a sharp, zooming contraction cut its way through my stomach and I bent forward, letting out a blood-curdling scream. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain but a few tears managed to leak out.

"Oh God," I heard someone mutter from beside me. I turned my head and if I wasn't in so much pain right now, I would have burst out laughing at Zach's frightened expression. I think he was more scared than me and I was the one having a baby!

"I'm here," a voice chirped, clad in scrubs, a face mask and gloves. "Let's get this party started!" Salma piped happily, sitting down on the seat. She was the happiest midwife I ever met."How do you feel?" she asked, looking up at me brightly.

"Like killing you," I grit through the pain. 

"Lovely!" she boomed. "That's definitely a good sign!" she mumbled. "I think." 

I laughed. I always knew Salma was the perfect match for my brother. A good thing too, since they had married only a year after me and Zach and now had four kids of their own. I chuckled again, remembering the comical beginning of their relationship. Even though Salma's feelings were equally as strong as Noah's, she had denied him on the basis that I wouldn't agree to their relationship and that it could possibly come in the way of our friendship! I snorted, recalling the conversation me and her had. Silly girl. So when I had finally told her that it was completely fine by me, and that on the contrary, it would only bring us closer, she had agreed, albeit skeptically and my brother had gone over to ask for her hand. 

Whenever Noah tried to talk to her, she'd either sit there stubbornly with her arms crossed or sit as stiff as a rod. However, over time, they had both found themselves comfortable which each other, none being able to resist the other's charm.

"Psst, Salma!" I whisper-yelled, trying to get her attention. She was listening to the boring conversation going on between our mothers. "Salma!" I tried again. She looked up and glanced at me, turning away from them when she noted the dry expression on my face.

"What's up," she asked. 

"I'm bored, let's go annoy Noah," I said, jerking my head in the direction of her back yard, where Noah, Zach and our fathers were sitting. Well, more like I was just trying to find a way to make them both bond.

She reluctantly got up and we walked outside to where a small bonfire had been lit. The four men, and some of Salma's younger siblings were sitting around it in a semi-circle, sipping on their tea. The twins were probably with Riya, Salma's sister who was the closest to their age. 

I kicked two kids off the seats and they happily bounced off and ran away to play somewhere else. Because I had such a strategic mind, well not really, I sat next to Zach and place the other chair next to Noah, so Salma had no choice but to sit next to him. She gave me a hard glare and I smiled at her sweetly in return. 

I didn't miss how my brother straightened his back upon seeing her. He cleared his throat slightly and ran a finger through his hair. They were both so nervous and I was  loving every minute of it. Salma sat down, elegant in her movements as usual and stared at the floor, her cheeks going a bright red, even though Noah hasn't even said a word to her. 

I had half a mind to get up and drag Zach back inside with me so that they were forced to speak with each other, but I knew that was too evil. She'd never forgive me. 

Zach gave me a knowing smile, raising his eyebrows in question, as if sensing what I was thinking.

"So..." Noah began, staring at her from the corner of his eyes. "How's prac been at the hospital?" She stiffened for a few seconds, then managed to get her cool back, turning to face him with a small smile. My brother already seemed captivated by her at this point. 

"It's been good, but it can get pretty full on, if you know what I mean." 

"So they've been letting you in with the patients?" I observed as her shoulders relaxed slightly as the conversation continued.

"Yes," she laughed. "They basically threw us into a room with a pregnant women and told us to get used to the trauma from the beginning." 

"Jeez," he mumbled, with a small chuckle. "You don't get queasy at the sight of blood?" he asked her, looking up to glance at her face just enough to watch her shake her head, before looking back at the floor. 

"Stop eavesdropping you creep! They already have enough pressure, what with her dad sitting right there," Zach spoke up, grasping my hand so I could focus on him. 

"But they're so cute," I pouted, peeking at them again. 

"I'm cuter," he countered, grinning at me. I threw my head back and laughed, before finally leaving the two love birds to themselves. 

I leant over my palette and decided which colour was to be used next. I dipped the brush into the blue and carefully began to draw a sign, in the shape of a square.  Once done, I picked up a second brush and swiped some grey paint off, merging it into the background scenery. All the hues and detail were coming together nicely now, camouflaging well to create the picture. I was almost done.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open and close, the voice of multiple people flowing through the house. 

"MUMMM!" Dalia yelled. I could hear her stomping her way towards me. She barged through the door and walked in with angry eyes. "If you don't put your son on a leash, I'll have no choice but to kill him." I rolled my eyes at her. She's always been such a drama queen, being the only female child. It didn't help that Zach had always especially spoilt and babied her, so whenever she chucked a tantrum I barely took her seriously. 

"Get a grip, you're twenty-two years old, not five." I sighed, dumping my brushes back into a water can and getting up. At my comment she crossed her arms with a huff.

"And he's nineteen! When will he start acting his age?" 

"What did Yunus do this time?" I questioned, trying to hide my smile, as I knew it would only frustrate her further. I couldn't deny, that Yunus was the biggest troublemaker this family has ever seen. 

"If you wanna be with me, baby there's a price to pay...I'm a genie in a bottle, gotta rub me the right way," I sang cheerfully, as I practically pranced around the room, dusting the tabletops and any dust in sight. I continued to hum the tune of one of my favourite songs, moving swiftly from place to place, completely forgetting the sleeping form on our bed. 

"Babe," Zach groaned, five minutes later. "Why are you singing a song that's almost thirty years old, at - " he paused to check the time, "seven in the morning, on a Sunday." I looked up from the ceramic vase I was cleaning, eyeing my grouchy husband with a large rueful smile. Zach hauled his bare upper body forwards, using his elbows for support. 

"Because, I don't like cleaning and singing helps to keep me motivated and on my feet," I answered, continuing to wipe down the vase in hand. His sea-green eyes stared back at me tiredly and I almost felt bad for waking him. It had been a very busy and rough few days at the business, and Zach had been working himself tirelessly, sacrificing his sleep on numerous accounts. 

"Just come back to bed," he grumbled, falling back against the sheets in a huff. 

"Please?" he begged, when I continued to clean.

I stifled a laugh and reluctantly threw the sponge aside, strolling to the bed and shuffling beneath the sheets. Immediately, Zach's arms were around my waist, bringing me closer and I turned around so I was facing him. I tried to look up at him, but as if sensing what I was going to do, he pushed my head back down and leaned his chin atop it. "Sleep," he murmured.

I frowned like a confused child. "But I'm not sleepy." 

"Just close your eyes." Feeling bad upon hearing his drowsy voice, I did just that and spread my palms against his warm chest. 

Not even a minute later, I knew there was no way I'd fall asleep again. I was way too alert and it seemed my body was already well-rested. As a result, I began to unconsciously sing again. "If you wanna be with me, I can make your wish come true..." I continued to sing quietly with my eyes closed, comfortable in my current position. 

"My wish is for you to have some mercy and let me sleep." 

I threw my head back and laughed at Zach's defeated remark. I pulled away and glanced at him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry." 

He sighed before giving me a mind-blowing smile, that even after all these years, managed to cause my heart to skip a beat. "It's OK, I've identified your 'active' mood. Sometimes, I think you can match Yunus' energy levels." 

I exaggerated my 'hell-no' expression. "No one on this planet can match Yunus' energy levels." 

Zach chuckled heartily. Pushing a thick strand of hair behind my ear, he gazed down at me with a hint of humour and affection. "You created him," he joked. 

"We created him," I corrected. 

"But he got his rebelliousness from you," Zach countered, grinning at me slyly. 

"Well..." I rolled my eyes. "I don't think I can argue with that." Just as we were about to get comfortable in each other's arms again, a five year old Yunus came barrelling into our bedroom, a black, shiny and very open permanent marker in his hand. His dark green eyes were alight with mischief and he gave us a slight smirk. 

"This is not going to end well," Zach whispered, as if not wanting to raise any unnecessary attention from the criminal. 

"OK here's the plan," I whispered back. "You go from the left, I go to the right." 

"Deal. Good luck." 

I saluted him. "One, two...three!" 

Zach and I both scrambled out of bed at the same time and lunged for Yunus. The little devil must have been anticipating this, because he ran back out the door and as he ran along, swiped the marker across the white walls, leaving a long black line behind. 

Instead of freaking out, like a normal mother would, I began to laugh so hard, I actually fell to the floor. Yunus chuckled in delight along with me. An exasperated Zach shook his head at me and then grabbed a still running Yunus by the pants. 

"You are going to pay for that, little boy," Zach said, holding him up to eye level. 

"I'm not little!" he screeched, raising the hand that was still holding the marker, and swiping a black mark across his fathers cheek. Zach's simultaneously frustrated and crushed look had me doubling over again and I actually felt my stomach begin to hurt. 

"I'm so done," Zach uttered to himself.

"Look at my shirt! My favourite shirt! He opened his perfume bottle and threw the whole thing on me!" She grasped her shirt between her fingers, as if to demonstrate the evidence of Yunus' behaviour. 

"Don't listen to her!" a breathless Yunus said, running into the room. "Well I mean, I did do that, but I have a reason!" he said, putting up his hands in self-defence.

"And what's that?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, knowing exactly where this was going. 

After a dramatic pause, he said, "she stank so you know...it had to be done." There was ice in Dalia's eyes now and she literally moved forward to strangle her brother but he managed to dash out of the room, laughing at her expense.

"It's OK," I commented, walking over for a sideways hug. "That shirt is hideous, well I personally think so anyway, so he did you a favour." I walked away from a groaning and sputtering daughter and into the kitchen. "Muhammed!" 

After a few seconds my eldest son came into view, a pair of headphones perched in his ears. He pulled them out and smiled at me, his small beard and brown eyes - that he most definitely inherited from me - were accentuated under the lighting. "Yes mama?" 

"Can you please go talk to Yunus. I know he wouldn't dare prank you and I think your sister is about to blow up in anger." He exhaled a sigh, a grin forming on his face. 

"I'll see to it now mama." 

"Please," I said, breathing in relief. He chuckled and kissed my forehead before going off to seek his little brother. 

I had just clicked to phone Salma, when Dalia stormed passed, yelling that she was going to her uncle Jacob's house. I just left the poor girl alone and waited for my very delayed sister-in-law to answer the phone. 

"Hello?" a breathless Salma voiced from the other end. 

"Salam it's me." 

"Oh, wasalam love. How are you?"

"Tired from Dalia and Yunus' antics, to be honest. What about you?" 

She laughed. "I'm at the orphanage, you coming? Some journalists have been coming in asking for you, not to mention most of the children." 

"Oh not today, but I will be in tomorrow. I'm working on a masterpiece today."

"You're painting again aren't you?" she asked knowingly. 

"You know I am. Come over tonight OK? Tell Noah I expect some sweets on the way." 

"Will do! Salam." 

Zach and I had put our sweat, blood and tears into that orphanage. After we had gotten older and both graduated, Zach had devised a master plan which we had both fallen in love with. The idea was, with Zach's business management skills and my psychology degree, we would expand the orphanage into a double story complex. The upper floor would be the sleeping quarters whilst the bottom floor comprised of offices, a larger dining hall, a games room, as well as a small medical centre that provided free health checks and benefits for all the kids. 

By expanding, Zach and I had allowed for more kids to be provided with shelter and support and soon enough, we had begun taking in homeless locals. We had employed people to help with the smooth running of the orphanage and Omar had even become Zach's business associate, once upon a time. 

That plan had been a major success, even though at the beginning we had nearly given up numerous times. The amount of support and donations flowing in from the community, as well as international funds had helped tremendously to kick-start us off and from there it had only gotten bigger and better. I was involved with getting my hands dirty, working from the inside to provide psychosocial and well-being support to any of the kids. 

My very ambitious husband decided that he wanted to open up a second business, and only a few years later, he had opened up a halal finance bank, which of course meant avoiding interest of any kind. With three kids and the orphanage, I had complained that it would be too hard, especially since he would have to return to university and study for a finance major, but, he was adamant. 

Now, Muhammad was running the bank and I could not have been more proud of him for choosing to follow in his father's footsteps.

I was about to head back into the drawing room, when once again the front door opened and in strolled a sleek looking Adam. 

"You know, just because you're an engineer now, you don't have to dress all classy," I quipped, eyeing his outfit from head to toe. Him and his suits. Apparently he was going to 'redecorate Gaza.' His words, not mine. 

"I don't have to, but I want to," he beamed, opening his arms wide for a hug.  "Where's Dalia?" he questioned as he pulled away, already on the search for his favourite niece. 

"Don't ask," I mumbled inaudibly, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.

"What?" he asked again.

"She's at Jacob's house, Yunus pissed her off again so she chucked a tantrum and ran out." I turned on the kettle to make my brother some coffee, since I knew he loved having some after work. 

"Where is that little street rat? I'll show him!" 

"Muhammad's already talking to him," I retorted. 

"And where are all my other sisters?" he asked, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. 

"Either working or with their kids, where else are they going to be?" He frowned at my tone of voice. 

"OK Ms Attitude. Anyway I've been thinking, we should have a family get together soon. There's just so many of us and it's getting a bit hard to meet up at someone's house."

"Sounds good," I pondered. "What do you have in mind?"

"A massive BBQ!" 

"We're in then. But you are planning this, because the last time I tried to plan something for all of us, it failed."

"Fine, fine. We should do it on the beach."

"Hey Zach?" I leaned my head against his shoulder, both of us staring out into the crystal blue sea.

"Mmm?" he hummed in response. I dug my toes further into the sand and breathed in the salty air.

"What are you thinking about?" 

He took a few seconds to reply. "About how much everything's changed." 

"And it's changed for the better," I finished. He turned to look at me and I lifted myself off his shoulder. 

"A thousand times better," he smiled, cupping my face and staring deep into my eyes. I sighed in contentment. After a while he cleared his throat and looked back at the water. "I need you to promise me something Yasmine." 

"What's that?" 

"When I die - and I of course don't know when that will be - you have to promise me that you will remain strong and continue with everything we've ever worked for. That orphanage was only created for the sake of Allah SWT so no matter what, it has to keep going. OK? Promise me." 

I looked up into his mesmerising green eyes and nodded my head. "But what if I die before you?" I whispered. 

A look of pain came over his face and something flashed in his eyes. "Then I promise I'll do the same." He put his arm around my shoulder and I wrapped mine around his waist. 

"Do you miss your parents?" he asked, his voice undetectable. 

"More than anything," I sniffed, controlling my tears. "Do you?"

"Every minute of every day."

From then on, we remained completely silent, staring out into the water and beyond, at a land in the far away distance that seemed to tell us the world had more to offer. Or more so, He had more to offer.

****

Night came and my family had finally left. The kids had all retreated to their rooms, and were for once, being quiet. The house, was once again in solitude, so I headed to the drawing room, at last. 

I had solved the mystery about the past, a long time ago. It wasn't about holding on or letting go. Who said it had to be so black and white? Why don't we ever consider balancing the two?

It's a mental process, I used to tell my clients. Consider it like a puzzle, but less vague and messy. Sift through all the memories you've clutched onto your whole life. Cherish and savour the good ones, as they should be. As you think of them, allow yourself to be pulled into a temporary period of bliss and happiness, times of hope, of love and innocence. Constantly recall on these memories, as they pull you away from negative thoughts and depression - they remind you that life, was not always so bad after all. 

Then, allow those dreadful memories to resurface. Put yourself back into the past - envision yourself there, relive those bad memories. But this time look at it through new eyes. How did it affect you? What did it teach you? How did it assist in moulding you into the person you are today? Absorb the lesson then lock it away. This way, you've understood the situation in a whole new light. Maybe at the time, what you believed to be torture, was really a blessing in disguise. 

You need to let go and learn from the bad, to absorb the good, which allows you to truly appreciate and live in the present. 

For me, that was the only way things could work. I constantly reflected on the past - from when my dear husband was still with us. My heart clenched at his absence, knowing he would never be by my side again. He would never be here to hold my hand, comfort me or kiss me passionately.

I smiled through my happy tears, hoping and praying that I would meet him in the next world. Until then, I would not forget a single memory I shared with him.

I slid the brush over the canvas for the very last time, the last stroke finishing off the painting. With a successful nod, I got up and stepped back to review my work of the day. 

I was absolutely bewildered by my own talent, that I had to suck in a harsh breath at the sight. It appeared so deeply real, like I could travel through the painting and I would be transported to the place. 

The painting of the Erez border loomed back at me, questioning why I had drawn it. Well...why had I? I questioned myself. But I knew why.

The border was no longer there.

We were free.

Palestine, was free. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N

*sobs*

*sobs*

*sobs*

Oh jeez, where do I begin? I don't know where to begin so I'm just going to say this.

This book has been an absolute pleasure to write - from my own work, I have not only learned so much about myself and you but it has broadened my perspective on life. Writing this, has during many times been my form of calm and solitude, my peace and that is why I will forever cherish it. 

My goal in writing this was not merely Romance but to raise awareness on the situation in Gaza and across Palestine. I hope you guys have all left this book, learning at least ONE new fact, something that I hope you will spread. Tell your family. Tell your friends. Your colleagues. Anyone. 

Thank you to everyone for your undying support, without which, I would definitely not have been able to complete this book. Because you guys have been so awesome [and because I can't live with not writing about this anymore] I have decided to do a separate book of ONE SHOTS from Palestwinians. I feel that this way, the book won't drag on and you guys will still get to read about their life or anything I may have purposely left out of this book. 

The competition closes tomorrow so please, make sure your entries are sent in by then. If the winner agrees, I will upload their work.

I've got an askfm, if you want to ask me something. Links in the bio on my profile or you can copy and paste this: http://ask.fm/booohhs

I love you guys all for the sake of Allah SWT and again, thank you SO much. ❤