He informed her that he had bought some items. After exchanging farewells, his driver opened the car door for him. As he got in, the house staff who were outside gathered around to greet him respectfully, showering him with honor. He responded politely. The door was closed, the driver entered, started the car, and the gatekeeper opened the gate for them to leave. After they exited, the gatekeeper closed it again, praying for their safety. Ibrahim raised his hand in response, since the car he was using that day had clear glass and he could be seen.

Just like the previous day, he prepared around 5:00 p.m. After bathing, he didn’t apply oil or perfume. He picked out a simple outfit—black shirt and black trousers. When he looked at himself in the mirror, despite the clothes being old, the black color made his fair skin stand out even more. His heart skipped; it felt as though his handsomeness had only increased. Quickly, he removed the outfit and picked a red shirt that was slightly torn at the elbow, paired it with black trousers. Though worn out, he felt they suited him.

He held his head and sat back on the edge of the bed, wondering whether he should rub black oil or charcoal on his skin to darken it, but then dismissed the thought, fearing he would look like a monster—and worse, that Jidda might think him mad. He used the old keypad phone he had asked his driver to buy for him, inserted his two SIM cards into it, and left his expensive smartphones on the dressing table. He struggled to find simple shoes, hoping she wouldn’t realize they were costly. He picked up a wool cap despite the heat, wore it briefly, then removed it. Instead, he took his regular fabric cap, dirtied it a little, pressed it firmly on his head, flattening his soft hair. He even let some hair stick out to look unkempt—like someone unsophisticated. Yet anyone observant would still tell from his skin alone that he was someone who had lived comfortably, not used to hardship.

He stepped out, knowing Mummy had gone to a wedding ceremony—he didn’t know whose—and Daddy had gone out with some friends who visited him. He locked his part and slipped the key into his pocket. It fell out, and only then did he notice the pocket was torn. He switched pockets and found a safer one.

From the moment he stepped out, he prayed earnestly not to run into any of the house staff. By Allah’s grace, he reached the gate without meeting anyone. He didn’t even glance at the parking area, since he wasn’t using a car that day. Carefully, he opened the small gate, but it creaked loudly. The gatekeeper, who was in the toilet and about to come out, heard the sound and shouted, “Who is that?” By then, Ibrahim had already stepped out and closed the gate, hastening away, knowing the guard would surely come to check. The gatekeeper quickly set aside his water kettle, took a few steps, and peeped into the compound but saw no one.

He hurried to the gate, opened the small door to check if someone had exited, since no one had entered. Ibrahim, already far off and eager to leave the area, heard the gate open and immediately ducked behind a nearby wall, peeping until the guard finished checking and closed the gate again. Ibrahim then emerged and continued walking, praying for success in what he was about to do—hoping Jidda would accept him, even willing for them to get married as soon as the next day if she agreed.

The walk soon exhausted him, as he wasn’t used to hardship. He stopped a tricycle (keke napep), told the rider his destination, and before reaching the exact spot, asked to be dropped off. He paid the rider via transfer, even adding extra. The rider kept thanking him profusely, full of curiosity and suspicion, convinced this was no ordinary man—judging by his refined speech and educated manner. One could easily tell he lived comfortably, though his clothes smelled like thrifted items.

Ibrahim continued on foot, praying for destiny to favor him. To him, destiny meant nothing but seeing Jidda, confessing his heart to her, and hoping she would accept him.