The Invisible Warrior
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Chapter 1
The Evening
(September 2006 – the evening it all began)
I can never erase that evening from my memory.
Every detail is etched into my mind – the evening, the time, that one moment.
It was September 6, 2006 around 8 p.m.
Summer was slowly bidding farewell, autumn was already knocking at the door. Cool air, colourful rustling leaves. In the distance, the streetlights flickered.
For a moment the whole world seemed to stand still, enveloped in a peaceful breath.
Nothing could disturb such tranquility.
But then it was suddenly broken.
The doorbell rang. My heart missed a beat.
Not again. Not today. What does he want this time?
I had just bathed Negin, combed her short hair and wrapped her in her bathrobe.
She looked like a little, soft, chubby angel.
Oh God… how happy we were together in that perfect moment.
Then the doorbell rang again – louder, longer, more insistent.
I knew immediately: It was him.
Who else would be standing at our front door at this hour?
I instantly suspected that he was up to something.
What did he want so late?
Negin had only just celebrated her fifth birthday the week before. We had been in Linz visiting my brother for his son’s birthday which is on the same day – but Ary is four years younger.
Both children were wearing traditional Afghan clothing. Negin, with her short hair, big eyes and round face was beaming with happiness.
But the doorbell kept pulling me back to the present.
My anger mingled with fear.
I had to get to the front door – but how?
I felt totally drained.
His mere presence had literally sapped all my energy.
I didn’t want Negin to notice my despair.
I took her as carefully and calmly as I could from the bathroom which was directly across from the front door.
And led her to the relative peace and quiet of the living room.
I was sweating profusely. My clothes were still damp from bathing her.
I hurriedly dried my hands and face with the towel beside me. My heart was pounding heavily. But somehow I managed to get to the front door, tried to take a deep breath and picked up the intercom receiver.
“Yes, hello?”
“Hello, it’s me.”
He repeated it impatiently, louder:
“Hello, it’s me!”
“What do you want? It’s almost eight o’clock at night!” I replied, annoyed.
“Negin had her birthday last week. I came over a couple of times but no one was home. I wanted to see her. And… I have a surprise for her.”
“A surprise? Since when have you been interested in your daughter?”
A thousand thoughts raced through my head.
I couldn’t believe him.
He continued:
“I’d like to take Negin with me to Iran for two or three weeks. You’re so busy with your training right now.”
I was paralysed and couldn’t utter a word.
Then he added “What do you say? If you agree, I’ll pick up her passport from you this week and apply for the visa. I promise you it will do her good. I’ll be in touch.”
His voice sounded strange – as if there was suddenly a different person on the other end of the line. Someone who had suddenly become aware of his role as a father.
What did he mean by that?
What was he really planning?
I was lost in thought.
Then Negin came to me and asked if her father had been at the door.
I was still standing there, paralysed, staring at the intercom, unable to move.
He had left long ago.
“Mummy, was Daddy here?” she asked again.
I looked at her, forced a smile and answered
“Yes, Negin. Your father was here.”
