Flames of Resolve

Layla's car screeched into the youth center parking lot on Thursday, April 24, 2025, just after 10:00 AM. Sana's voicemail—"Tomorrow, the center burns"—rang in her ears, drowning out Principal Davis's ultimatum from yesterday: disengage by Monday or lose her teaching dream.

The morning sun cast harsh shadows across the lot as she grabbed her bag. Idris stood by the entrance, his gray thobe crisp despite the obvious sleepless night, dark circles under his eyes.

"You made it," he said, relief washing over his face as he held the door. "God, you look as bad as I feel."

"Thanks for the compliment," Layla shot back with a weak smile. "Any word from Sana?"

"Nothing since that voicemail." Idris ran a hand through his hair. "Amina and Tariq are on their way. I've been calling everyone I trust, but..." his voice trailed off.

They hurried into the meeting room, the air still heavy with last night's tension—damp wood, stale coffee, and something else... fear.

Layla's hands trembled as she played Sana's voicemail on speaker: "Layla, it's me. I—I overheard him on the phone." Her voice cracked. "Tomorrow, the center burns'—that's exactly what he said. I don't think last night fixed anything... I'm scared. Call me back, please."

Layla set the phone down, feeling sick. "We can't trust the board. Not all of them anyway."

"Brother Kareem is definitely involved," Idris said, pacing. "And this associate of his—"

"Working for Malik," Layla finished. "They won't let Sana's evidence destroy everything they've built without a fight."

The door burst open as Amina rushed in, adjusting her hijab where it had come loose in her hurry. Tariq followed, laptop under one arm, glasses fogged from running in from the morning heat.

"Sorry we're late," Amina breathed. "Traffic was insane on Broadway."

Tariq didn't waste time with greetings. "I was up all night digging," he said, setting up his laptop on the table. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he spoke. "Remember that 2018 grant Sana mentioned? The $200,000 one?"

"The youth program funding?" Idris leaned in.

"Exactly. Look at this." Tariq turned the screen toward them. "It doesn't just cover that $50,000 discrepancy Sana flagged. There's another $25,000 we didn't even know about."

"Where did it go?" Layla asked, dreading the answer.

"To a shell company." Tariq pulled up another document. "Tied directly to Malik's failed restaurant—the same one your father invested in, Idris."

Idris swore under his breath, a rare break in his composure. "So the corruption goes even deeper. Who's this associate running the show?"

"His name is Fahad." Tariq pulled up a photo—a man in his late 30s with sharp features and cold eyes. "He's been Malik's accountant for over a decade. Always wears expensive suits, drives a black Audi. His name was all over Sana's documents."

"I've seen him before," Amina said suddenly. "At fundraisers. He's always hovering around Brother Kareem."

"He's got an office downtown," Tariq continued, "and a storage unit nearby. If he's planning something like arson..."

"That's where he'd keep supplies," Layla finished, her stomach twisting into knots.

Amina sank into a chair. "We need to warn Sana," she said quietly. "If Fahad knows she's talking—"

"I'll call her now." Idris was already dialing. He put the phone on speaker as it rang.

"We need to secure the center too," Layla said, mind racing. "Tomorrow is Friday. Jummah prayers. The place will be packed."

"What about Brother Yusuf?" Amina suggested. "He seemed genuinely shocked last night. If he's really on our side—"

"He could rally the honest board members," Idris nodded.

Layla pulled out her phone, hesitated, then typed: *Brother Yusuf - URGENT: We've identified Kareem's associate as Fahad. He's planning to burn down the center tomorrow. We need your help. -Layla*

Her thumb hovered over the send button before she pressed it, whispering under her breath, "Ya Allah, guide us."

The call connected, and Sana's voice came through, thin with fear: "Idris?"

"Sana, where are you? Are you safe?" Idris asked.

"I'm at my sister's place in Westwood. I—I didn't know where else to go." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I saw Fahad again this morning, near the masjid. He was with someone... a man in a hoodie. The same one Sister Halima mentioned last week."

Layla and Idris exchanged alarmed glances.

"Did they see you?" Idris asked.

"No, but I heard them talking. Fahad said they can't let the investigation go forward. He sounded... desperate."

Idris's face hardened. "We're coming to get you, Sana. Stay put. Don't answer the door for anyone but us."

"Please hurry," Sana whispered before hanging up.

Layla's phone chimed with a reply from Brother Yusuf: *This is unconscionable. I'm contacting the other board members I trust right now. Meet me at the center at 2pm. We'll confront Kareem together.*

"Brother Yusuf is with us," Layla announced, showing the message to the others. For the first time that morning, she felt a flicker of hope.

The drive to Sana's sister's house was tense. Layla rode with Idris while Amina and Tariq followed in another car. The midday traffic crawled, each minute stretching Layla's nerves thinner.

"I might lose my job over this," she said quietly, watching the city scroll by. "Principal Davis gave me an ultimatum yesterday."

Idris glanced at her. "I heard. I'm sorry, Layla."

"Don't be. Some things matter more." She meant it, despite the ache in her chest.

Sana's sister lived in a modest apartment complex. Sana met them at the door, her hijab askew, eyes red-rimmed. Behind her, a small boy about four years old clutched a toy car, watching them warily.

"Thank you for coming," Sana said, her voice breaking. She stepped back to let them in. "This is my son, Zayn."

Idris crouched down to the boy's level. "Hey there, buddy. That's a cool car you've got."

Zayn stared at him silently, then edged closer to his mother.

"I never wanted any of this," Sana said, wiping her eyes. "I just wanted justice for what they did to me. For the money they stole that could have helped so many kids."

Layla took Sana's trembling hands in hers. "And we're going to get that justice, insha'Allah. The right way."

Back at the center by 2:00 PM, Brother Yusuf had gathered Sister Fatima, Sister Mariam, and two other board members known for their integrity. Brother Kareem was conspicuously absent.

"Kareem claimed a family emergency," Brother Yusuf said, his normally jovial face grim. "Convenient timing."

"Have you spoken to the authorities?" Idris asked.

Brother Yusuf nodded. "They're expediting the investigation based on Sana's documents. But we need more on Fahad and this arson threat."

"What about his storage unit?" Tariq suggested. "If he's planning something, he might have supplies there."

"It's worth checking out," Idris agreed.

"I'll go with you," Tariq offered. "I know where it is."

Idris turned to Layla. "Stay here with Amina and Sana. Keep her safe."

Layla wanted to protest but nodded. "Be careful."

As the afternoon stretched into evening, Layla sat with Sana in the youth center office, everyone on edge. Sister Fatima had made tea that no one was drinking. Amina kept checking her phone for updates from Tariq.

The buzz of Layla's phone made her jump. An unknown number. She opened the message and felt her blood run cold: *You can't stop what's already in motion. Back off, or you'll burn with it.*

She looked up to find Sana watching her, fear in her eyes.

"Bad news?" Sana asked.

Layla hesitated, then showed her the text. "We need to call Idris."