This scene that I saw in a video that did not exceed a minute, I think I will never forget it in my life. That man in his fifties smells the winds of his little daughter, opens her eyes and kisses them, puts his face on hers, inhales for a long time as if he is filling his lungs with the fragrance of her scent, then hides in her embrace. I wish. Time stops here. He smiles with strange calm and steadfastness. He does not leave his beloved. He is busy with her and does not see what is around him. Then the first thing he spoke, he said, “Soul of the soul.” This is the language of lovers. I know it! By God, this is not a father bidding farewell to his daughter, but rather a lover whose love melted his heart...so he was tested in her and through her. A scene that lasts no more than a minute, overflowing with the poems of the madman, and Antara’s courage crumbling before him, a scene that can only be tolerated by the saying of our Lord, “Have you received the fruit of my servant’s heart? And they say yes. Build him a house in heaven.” Oh God, bind their hearts, make them steadfast, heal the afflicted, heal their wounds, accept their dead among the martyrs, and release the chains of their captives.💔💔😭😭😭