Taif - Part 2: A Silent Cry for Help

As the school day continued, Taif found herself drawn to the little boy from earlier. His presence lingered in her mind—his trembling hands, his downcast eyes, the way he flinched at every sound.

At the end of her lesson, she dismissed the children, watching as they eagerly rushed toward the playground for their break. But among them, one child remained seated—him. The boy sat in silence, staring down at his hands, as if he didn't belong among the others.

Her heart clenched. She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him.

"Hello, little one," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "What’s your name?"

The boy didn’t respond. He only tightened his hands into small fists on his lap.

Before she could ask again, another student nearby answered for him. "His name is Zayn, teacher. He’s mute."

The words struck Taif like a slap.

Mute?

She turned back to the child, studying his face. He didn’t even look up.

A wave of emotions rushed over her—anger, sadness, frustration. How could someone so young, so small, already be carrying so much silence?

Carefully, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small sandwich. She unwrapped it and placed it gently on the desk in front of him.

"I made this myself," she said. "It has eggs and meat. It's very tasty."

Zayn didn’t move. He only stared at the sandwich, as if he were debating whether he should even acknowledge its existence.

Another boy leaned in and whispered something in Taif’s ear. She listened carefully, her stomach twisting as the truth unraveled before her.

He’s afraid.

She finally understood—he wasn’t just refusing to take the sandwich. He was terrified that if he did, someone would find out.

So, she did something unexpected.

With an exaggerated gasp, she "accidentally" tipped her juice box, spilling it all over Zayn’s lap.

The boy flinched, looking down at his wet clothes in shock.

"Oh no!" Taif gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. "I’m so sorry, Zayn! We have to get you changed quickly, or you’ll catch a cold!"

Zayn blinked up at her, confused.

"Come with me," she urged, reaching for his hand.

For the first time, he didn’t pull away.

She led him to the office of the school’s caretaker, a woman named Umm Ayman. As soon as they entered, Taif spoke firmly. "He needs a fresh set of clothes. Can you help?"

Umm Ayman glanced at Zayn, her lips pursed. Then, with a sigh, she turned to a nearby cabinet and rummaged through a pile of spare uniforms.

"I don’t think we have his size left," she muttered.

"Then we need to get him new clothes," Taif said.

Umm Ayman shot her a doubtful look. "With what money?"

"I’ll buy them myself," Taif declared without hesitation.

The older woman shook her head. "It’s not that simple. The school has rules, and the headmistress won’t allow teachers to leave during school hours."

That didn’t stop Taif.

She reached for her phone and called her husband. "Diaa," she whispered, stepping away from Zayn. "I need a favor. Can you bring me a pair of pants and a shirt for a child about eight years old?"

Diaa hesitated. "What’s going on?"

"I’ll explain later," she promised. "Just please—bring the clothes quickly."

She hung up before he could protest.

Outside, the bell rang, signaling the end of recess. Zayn flinched at the sound.

Taif crouched in front of him. "Listen to me," she said gently. "Go back to class now. In a few minutes, I’ll come by, and when you see me, ask to go to the restroom. Umm Ayman will meet you there and help you change, alright?"

Zayn hesitated.

"Trust me," she urged.

After a long moment, he gave her a tiny nod.

She smiled, feeling something shift—a wall between them beginning to crumble.

That afternoon

Just as promised, Diaa arrived with a small bag of neatly folded clothes. Taif met him outside the school, quickly taking the bundle before hurrying back.

She spotted Zayn standing near the classroom door, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He hadn’t moved since she left him.

When their eyes met, she gave him a reassuring nod.

Moments later, she watched as he hesitated before raising his hand to ask for permission to leave. His teacher barely glanced at him before waving him away.

Taif followed at a distance, her heart pounding.

Umm Ayman was waiting by the restroom, and as soon as Zayn arrived, she gently ushered him inside to change.

When he finally stepped out, freshly dressed, he looked up at Taif for the first time.

And then—he smiled.

It was small. Faint. Almost invisible.

But it was there.

And it was everything.