Forbidden Faiths
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The rain was a relentless grey curtain as Gabriel sprinted through the narrow alleyways of the East Side. His lungs burned, and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Behind him, the rhythmic heavy thud of boots on wet pavement told him the Debt Collector’s men weren't giving up.
One wrong shipment. One lost container of "medical supplies" that were definitely not legal, and now Gabriel was worth more dead than alive. He turned a sharp corner, his vision blurring. A green light glowed through the fog—a sign. He didn't look at what it was; he just lunged for the heavy wooden doors and threw himself inside.
Silence.
The roar of the rain vanished, replaced by the scent of sandalwood and old carpet. Gabriel collapsed against the door, sliding down to the floor. He looked up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Rows of ornate arches stretched into the shadows, and the floor was covered in intricate green rugs.
Gabrie(m)l
"A mosque," he whispered, clutching his side where a dull ache reminded him of the debt he couldn't pay. "Of all the places to hide, Gabriel... you picked a house of God."
Across the city, the atmosphere was entirely different. The air in The Olive Branch was thick with the scent of cumin, roasted lamb, and fresh za'atar.
Maryam moved between the tables with a practiced grace, her long, deep-maroon dress catching the light, her movements punctuated by the sharp, confident click of her heels.
.
Table four needs more water, Maryam!" her father called out from the kitchen, his voice booming over the sound of sizzling pans.
Maryam(fl)
On it, Abba!" she replied, adjusting her hijab before grabbing a pitcher
Her best friend, Hana, was sitting at the corner counter, staring at a laptop screen littered with spreadsheets. When Maryam approached, Hana looked up with a wide grin.
..
You’re not going to believe this. Look at the total."
Maryam(fl)
Leaning over) "Is that the final count for the flood relief fund?"
..
Three thousand dollars in just forty-eight hours. Most of it came in after you posted that video explaining where the money goes."
Maryam(fl)
People just want to know their help actually reaches the families who lost their homes. It’s not much, but it’ll buy a lot of blankets."
..
Don't do that. Don't play it down. You’ve been working twelve-hour shifts here and then staying up until 2:00 AM organizing the logistics. You’re a saint, Maryam. Seriously."
Maryam(fl)
(Laughing) "Hardly. I just can't sleep knowing the water is still rising back home."
..
Well, the community sees it. My brother said everyone at the youth center is calling you the 'Heart of the District.' You’re making us look bad, honestly."
Maryam(fl)
Stop it. Go back to the numbers. We still need five hundred more for the medical kits."
..
We'll get it. By the way, your father looks like he’s about to feed the entire neighborhood for free again."
Maryam(fl)
He saw the news. When Abba gets sad, he cooks. It’s a dangerous cycle for our inventory."
The door to the restaurant creaked open, letting in a gust of cold, wet air. Maryam looked up, her professional smile ready, but her eyes lingered on the dark street outside. For a moment, she felt a strange shiver, a sense of something shifting in the city's heavy air.
..
Earth to Maryam? You okay?"
Maryam(fl)
Yeah... just the storm. It feels like it’s bringing something in with it
..
Probably just more hungry customers. Speaking of which, hand me one of those baklavas. For 'research' purposes."
Maryam(fl)
Nice try. That’s two dollars for the fund, Hana."
..
You’re a cold-hearted businesswoman, Maryam!"
Maryam(fl)
Only for a good cause."
Back in the dim light of the mosque, Gabriel watched from the shadows of a pillar. An older man was kneeling at the front, his forehead pressed to the floor in total stillness.
Gabriel looked at his hands—bruised, scarred, and stained by a life spent in the gray areas of the law. He didn't belong here. He was a man of debts and shadows, and this was a place of light and clarity.
But as the sirens wailed past the building in the street outside, Gabriel stayed pressed against the cold stone, a stranger in a sacred space, waiting for the world to stop hunting him.
Gabrie(m)l
(Whispering to the empty air) "If there’s anyone listening... I could really use a miracle. Or at least a way out of this alive."
The silence of the prayer hall was his only answer, but for the first time in years, the crushing weight of his debt felt just a little bit lighter.
tease
The rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle, leaving the streets of the city slick and reflecting the neon signs of the shops. Maryam stood on the curb, clutching a plastic donation box with "Flood Relief: Every Cent Counts" taped to the side. Her hands were cold, but her resolve was steady.
She stepped toward the edge of the road as a sleek, black motorcycle roared to a halt at the red light. The rider was clad in a dark leather jacket, his helmet visor up, revealing a pair of sharp, tired eyes. It was Gabriel. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week—shadows under his eyes and a fresh cut across his cheekbone.
Maryam(fl)
"Assalamu Alaikum. We’re collecting for the flood victims in the north. Families have lost everything. Would you like to contribute?"
Gabriel looked at the box, then up at her. He gave a dry, cynical laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
Gabrie(m)l
Flood relief, huh? How do I know that money isn't going straight into your pocket or some offshore account?"
Maryam(fl)
It’s for a registered charity. We have the permits right here. Every dollar provides clean water and blankets."
Gabrie(m)l
"I don't believe you. People who talk about 'good causes' are usually the ones hiding the biggest secrets. I don't trust anyone who wears their virtue on their sleeve."
Maryam(fl)
If you don't want to help, that’s fine. May God guide your heart. Have a good evening."
She started to turn away, but Gabriel wasn’t finished. The adrenaline from his earlier escape was still buzzing in his veins, making him reckless and cruel. He leaned forward, gesturing toward her hijab.
Gabrie(m)l
"Is that what the headscarf is for? To make you look more trustworthy while you take people's cash? It’s a nice costume. Very convincing."
Maryam froze. The insult hit her like a physical blow. She turned back, her eyes flashing with a fire that surprised him.
Maryam(fl)
This isn’t a 'costume.' It’s my faith. If you’re so broken that you can’t see past your own cynicism to help people who are drowning, that’s your burden. But don't you dare mock my modesty to feel better about your own lack of character."
She didn't wait for a response. She walked away, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. Gabriel sat on his bike, stunned for a second by the sting of her words. He watched her go, a strange mix of guilt and fascination bubbling up. He kicked the kickstand down and followed her at a distance, rolling slowly.
Maryam reached the street corner where Hana was waiting.
hana
Hey! How did that block go? You look like you’re ready to punch someone."
Maryam(fl)
Some guy on a bike. Arrogant, rude, and disrespectful. I’m done for the hour, Hana. I need to clear my head."
hana
Where are you going?"
Maryam(fl)
It’s time for Asr. I’m going to do Salah. I'll meet you back at the restaurant later. Bye."
She hailed a rickshaw, the colorful tinsel on the vehicle's hood fluttering as it pulled up. She hopped in, telling the puller to go to the main mosque three blocks away.
Gabriel, driven by an impulse he couldn't explain, kept his bike in low gear, trailing the rickshaw. He pulled up alongside it as it moved through the slow-moving traffic
Gabrie(m)l
(Shouting over the engine) "Hey! Charity Girl! You forgot to tell me—does the 'virtuous act' include ignoring people on the street?"
Maryam(fl)
(Looking away, frustrated) "Leave me alone. Don't you have a debt to run from or someone else to insult?"
Gabrie(m)l
I’m just curious. Do you actually believe the stuff you say? Or is it just a way to feel superior?"
Maryam(fl)
Pull over!" she yelled at the rickshaw driver.
She jumped out near the entrance of the mosque, her face flushed with anger. The mosque was a beautiful structure of white marble and blue tiles, a sanctuary of peace in the middle of the chaotic city. She practically ran toward the entrance, desperate to leave the shadow of his motorcycle behind.
Gabriel parked his bike haphazardly on the sidewalk. He took off his helmet and tossed it onto the seat, marching toward the stairs. He wanted to win the argument. He wanted to prove that her "holy" act was just a shield.
As he reached the heavy arched doorway, a tall man in a traditional white thobe stepped out, blocking the path with a calm but firm expression.
Gabrie(m)l
I'm looking for the girl who just came in here."
The man pointed down at Gabriel’s heavy leather boots, which were covered in the grime of the city's underbelly.
.
This is a place of prayer. Take off your shoes before you come inside. This is holy ground."
Gabriel paused. He looked down at his boots, then at the rows of shoes lined up neatly on the wooden racks. He looked back at the man, then toward the inner hall where he could see the soft glow of the chandeliers reflecting off the polished floor.
He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way Maryam had looked at him—like he was a lost soul rather than a threat.
Gabriel sat on the bottom step and began unlacing his boots. He pulled them off, feeling the cool stone beneath his socks. He stood up and leaned against the wall near the racks, folding his arms.
Gabrie(m)l
Fine. I’ll wait."
The guard nodded and stepped back inside. Gabriel stayed there, the cool evening air hitting his face, watching the door, waiting for the girl who had challenged the only world he knew.
ramadan and touch
The air inside the mosque was still and heavy with the scent of old carpet and rosewater. When Maryam finally stepped out onto the marble veranda, she adjusted the pins of her hijab, her mind finally reaching a state of calm. That calm shattered the moment she saw him.
Gabriel was still there, sitting on the cold stone step, his heavy boots resting like two discarded anchors beside him. He looked up, his eyes sharp and filled with a strange, mocking light.
Maryam(fl)
What are you doing here? I thought you’d be halfway across the city by now."
Gabrie(m)l
What? Is there a law? Can a non-believer not sit on these steps? Is the air different for me than it is for you?"
Maryam(fl)
(Sighing) "Of course you can sit here. It’s a house of God, open to everyone. But you aren't here for God, Gabriel. You’re here to play a game."
Gabrie(m)l
Maybe. But tell me—if I walked in there right now and started shouting my doubts, would your 'peace' hold up? Or is your faith only strong when it’s quiet?"
Maryam(fl)
My faith isn't a glass vase, Gabriel. It doesn’t break because someone shouts at it. If you have questions, ask them. But don't mistake your curiosity for an excuse to be cruel. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do
She walked past him, her head held high. Gabriel watched her, the smirk fading into a look of genuine intrigue. He pulled on his boots, the leather laces snapping as he tightened them, and followed her at a distance.
The street was bustling as Maryam met Hana back at their designated spot near the main road. On a small folding table, they had displayed handmade blue and silver bracelets, each one sold to raise money for the flood victims.
hana
Maryam! You won't believe it. We’ve sold almost half the stock while you were praying. People really love the 'Handmade with Prayer' tag."
Maryam(fl)
That’s wonderful, Hana. Let’s hope we can sell the rest before—"
She stopped. The roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the evening air. Gabriel pulled up, kicking the stand down with a loud clack. He walked toward the table, his hands in his pockets.
Gabrie(m)l
I want to buy these."
hana
"Oh! Well, they’re five dollars each. How many would you like?"
Gabrie(m)l
All of them. Every single one on the table."
The two girls stared at him. Maryam remained silent, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
hana
All of them? That’s... that’s nearly four hundred dollars worth of bracelets."
Gabriel pulled a thick roll of cash from his pocket. He peeled off five hundred-dollar bills and dropped them onto the table.
hana
This is too much. I don't have change for this."
Gabrie(m)l
Keep the change. Consider it a down payment. Just... pray for my business. I’m going to need it.
hana
What kind of business do you do?"
Gabriel’s expression went cold for a split second, a shadow of the illegal debts and the men hunting him crossing his face.
Gabrie(m)l
The kind that stays in the dark. Don't worry about it."
He grabbed the bag of bracelets. To Maryam’s shock, he didn't put them in his pocket. Instead, he walked over to a group of street children and beggars sitting near the mosque wall. He handed them out one by one, the blue beads catching the fading sunlight.
He walked back to the table, looking at Maryam.
Gabrie(m)l
So. Now that I’m a 'philanthropist,' can I at least get your names?"
hana
I'm Hana. And this is Maryam."
Gabrie(m)l
Hana. Maryam. I’m Gabriel."
Maryam(fl)
You’re back. Why? An hour ago you were insulting my hijab and calling me a fraud. Now you’re buying out our stock and giving it to children. Who are you actually?"
Gabrie(m)l
I told you. I’m curious. I’ve never met someone who looks at me like I’m a problem to be solved instead of a man to be feared."
Gabrie(m)l
He looked at Maryam, his gaze intense.
Gabrie(m)l
Give me your number, Maryam. I want to know more about this 'charity' of yours."
Maryam(fl)
Absolutely not."
hana
Oh, it’s okay! Here, I’ll give it to you. We need more donors like him anyway."
Hana quickly rattled off the digits while Maryam hissed her name in protest. Gabriel tapped the number into his phone, a triumphant glint in his eyes.
Maryam(fl)
Hana! How could you?"
She turned to leave, her face burning with frustration. But as she stepped past him, Gabriel reached out and caught her wrist. His touch was warm, but the suddenness of it startled her.
Maryam(fl)
Astagfirullah! Let go of me!"
Gabriel flinched as if he’d been burned. He dropped her hand immediately, seeing the genuine shock and discomfort in her eyes.
Gabrie(m)l
I... I’m sorry. I didn't mean to... I forgot."
Maryam(fl)
Don't touch me. Ever."
She turned and vanished into the crowd, Hana trailing behind her, looking apologetic. Gabriel stood alone on the sidewalk, the scent of her perfume—something like jasmine and rain—still lingering in the air.
Three Weeks Later: Ramadan
The city had changed. The frantic energy of the day had slowed into a spiritual hum. It was the second week of Ramadan.
Gabriel found himself sitting in his sleek, glass-walled office late into the evening. He wasn't eating. Not because he was fasting for religious reasons, but because he had spent the last ten days watching Maryam from a distance. He had seen her at the restaurant, tired but smiling as she served Iftar to the community. He had seen the way the whole neighborhood seemed to glow during the evening prayers.
He looked at his phone. He had typed a dozen messages to her and deleted them all.
Gabrie(m)l
“Why does she stay so disciplined?” he wondered. “What is it like to believe in something so much that you’d go without water in this heat?”
Suddenly, his desk phone buzzed. It was a private line. He picked it up, leaning back in his leather chair.
..
Is that any way to greet an old friend? Or have you forgotten me in all your 'business' dealings?"
Gabriel’s eyes widened. He recognized that smoky, confident tone instantly.
Gabrie(m)l
Elena? You’re supposed to be in New York."
..
"I was. But I missed the chaos of this city. And I missed you, Gabe. I’m back. And I hear you’ve become quite the mysterious bachelor lately."
Elena had been his childhood friend—the daughter of his father’s business associate. She was stunning, a woman who knew how to use her beauty like a weapon, always dressed in the latest high-end fashion that left little to the imagination. She was the world Gabriel came from: fast, expensive, and hollow.
..
I’m at the Sapphire Lounge. Come meet me. I want to see if you’ve still got that edge I like so much."
Gabriel looked at the prayer beads he had tucked into his desk drawer—the ones he’d taken from the table that day. Then he looked at the dark city skyline.
Gabrie(m)l
Okay. I’ll meet you. Give me thirty minutes."
He hung up the phone, but his mind wasn't on the "sexy lady" waiting for him at the lounge. It was on a girl in a maroon hijab who wouldn't even let him touch her hand, and the strange, quiet peace of a mosque at sunset.
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