I had been holding onto a secret from my father for months, a secret that weighed heavily on me. My grandfather, Ra’fat, a man well-versed in the mysteries of jinn, seemed to sense something was off. His keen eyes caught mine, and I knew the moment was coming when he would confront me. He asked about the book I had used, the one that started this whole ordeal. With a hesitant hand, I pointed to the box resting next to the couch. Anger contorted his face as he grasped the book and stormed outside, where he ignited it in flames. He warned me that while he could force the jinn out of my mother, it wouldn’t disappear from my life entirely. Life returned to normal for my mother, but I was still haunted. I caught glimpses of those eerie eyes of the jinn lurking just out of sight, a constant reminder of the chaos I had unleashed. One day, I spotted my cousin’s daughter sitting outside her house. Worried, I warned her to go home to avoid any misunderstandings—family tensions were high enough already. But when I checked on her later, she was sound asleep inside, her door wide open. Confusion washed over me, and when I spoke to my uncle about it, he was astonished—his daughter had been sleeping the whole time. I could feel a chill creep down my spine, and I began questioning my sanity. As I left that day, I reflected on how I was the only one witnessing these uncanny happenings, grappling with fear over what lay in the shadows.