“Stop talking! Don’t say another word!” Samuel begged, his voice trembling as the silk of his hijab pressed tight against his scalp. The fabric felt foreign, constricting, a physical reminder of the changes he couldn’t control. His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to tear it off, but something deeper held him back: a weight settling in his chest, heavy and undeniable.

The woman leaned in, her voice low and smooth, threading into his thoughts. “But isn’t this what you wished for? To live as someone else, to feel their heartbeat as your own?”

Samuel’s kohl-lined eyes widened. “This isn’t what I wanted. Change me back!”

“You are from Riyadh,” she said, her words wrapping around him. He saw himself walking its streets: the sun burning his skin, the smell of spices thick in the air, the call to prayer vibrating in his chest. He tried to block it out, but it was too strong.

“Your name is Samira,” she went on, relentless. “Remember your mother’s hands braiding your hair for Eid, her voice guiding you through prayers. Remember the pride you felt when you first wore your hijab.”

Tears rolled down Samuel’s face as pieces of his old self fell away. He saw himself sitting with Samira’s family, felt her mother’s warmth, tasted the sweetness of dates shared during Ramadan. His breath caught as a new feeling spread through him: Samira’s joy, her pride, her faith. It wasn’t just memories; it was her life taking over. The streets of Riyadh, the sun on his skin, the call to prayer echoing in his ears; it had all been leading here, to this moment where he was no longer Samuel but Samira.

The tears weren’t from sadness anymore but from the happiness that now filled him. The process was complete. His old name felt like a distant whisper, a shadow erased by the light of Samira’s identity. His thoughts shifted seamlessly into Arabic, his prayers flowing effortlessly from his lips as if they had always been there. Samuel was gone.

“Embrace this life, Samira,” the woman said firmly, her voice laced with a cold satisfaction. “It is yours now: every breath, every step, every salah. Your qadr is sealed; this is your fitrah.”