"Where Peace Took the Shape of Love"
Even after leaving Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, both their hearts were still filled with a strange and soothing peace. It felt as if that sacred place had settled somewhere deep within them. They sat in the car, and the vehicle turned toward the journey to Qasr Al Watan.
Looking quietly out of the window, Richer cast one last glance in the direction of the mosque and softly said,
"Ramish… leaving this place is truly difficult. There is a rare kind of peace here."
With a gentle smile, Ramish replied,
"You're absolutely right."
The journey had begun. Looking through the rear-view mirror, the manager said,
"Sir, we'll reach Qasr Al Watan in about fifteen to twenty minutes. You can comfortably spend one to one and a half hours there—at most, two hours."
Richer remained silent and said nothing. Ramish immediately responded,
"That's fine."
Ramish took out a bottle of juice from his bag, opened the cap, and offered it to Richer.
Richer said softly,
"No, you drink it… I don't feel like it."
Ramish replied gently,
"We've been walking so much—you must be thirsty. You have some drink."
When Richer still refused, Ramish smiled, brought the bottle close to his lips, and said,
"Just a little drink. You'll feel better."
Richer looked at Ramish for a brief moment, then took two or three sips and said,
"That's enough."
Ramish also took a sip, closed the bottle, placed it aside, and began gazing at the beauty unfolding outside the car window.
Richer silently watched Ramish, then slowly rested his head on Ramish's shoulder.
Smiling, Ramish looked at him and asked,
"Richer, what's the matter? You've grown very quiet."
Richer replied softly,
"Nothing… I'm still lost in the peace of those beautiful moments."
Ramish said gently,
"That's okay. Sometimes it happens. When a place gives you peace, leaving it becomes difficult. And perhaps the same is true of a person—when their presence brings you peace, leaving them becomes even harder… isn't it?"
Richer smiled and said,
"You really are something, Ramish…"
At that moment, the manager's voice came from the front,
"Sir, we're close to Qasr Al Watan now. Look ahead—you can see it coming into view."
Both Ramish and Richer excitedly leaned toward the window. Before them stood a magnificent palace of white marble, bathed in light. It looked as if a dream had taken physical form in the stillness of the morning.
Unconsciously, the same words escaped both their lips,
"How beautiful this palace is!"
The manager explained,
"Sir, this is Qasr Al Watan—a presidential palace and a masterpiece of modern architecture. Its purpose is not only governmental meetings, but also to present Arab culture, knowledge, wisdom, and leadership to the world."
"This palace is still used today for welcoming state guests, high-level meetings, and national ceremonies. That is why its atmosphere carries dignity, quiet power, and the echo of history being made."
The car stopped in the parking area. The manager said,
"Sir, from here you'll go inside, then take a bus that will take you to the palace."
Richer softly replied,
"Alright."
The manager handed them their tickets. Both stepped out of the car and walked toward the inner pathway, where a well-organized bus awaited them. They boarded it, and the bus carried them along smooth, beautiful paths lined with palm trees and flowers, leading them to the entrance of Qasr Al Watan.
Stepping off the bus, Ramish looked at Richer and said,
"Richer… the palace already looks so magnificent from outside. Just imagine how it must be inside."
Lifting his gaze toward the white marble palace glowing under the sunlight, Richer said,
"Yes… it feels as though the palace is drenched in sunlight, shining brilliantly."
With affection, Richer held Ramish's hand, and together they slowly walked along the elegant pathway and entered the palace.
The moment they stepped inside, their faces were overtaken by joy and awe. Towering domes adorned with intricate carvings, and walls glowing with golden designs—it felt as if history, dignity, and grandeur were breathing through every line and pattern.
In the vast hall, Ramish and Richer walked in silence, repeatedly lifting their eyes toward the domes above, where natural light streaming through enhanced the palace's beauty even further.
Gently, Ramish pulled Richer closer and positioned him in front of a magnificent wall design.
"Stand here," Ramish said with a smile.
Ramish took several photographs of Richer, and Richer, in return, captured Ramish in his lens. Then they took a photo together—moments that were being engraved far more deeply in their hearts than on any camera.
Pointing ahead, Richer said,
"Come, Ramish—let's see that," gesturing toward the Golden Sculpture.
Smiling, Ramish replied,
"Let's go."
They approached the Golden Sculpture together. Standing side by side within it, they took more photographs.
Ramish extended his hand toward Richer and said,
"Come, let's dance together inside this golden Sculpture."
Richer smiled and replied,
"Here… in front of everyone?"
Ramish said softly,
"Yes, just a little dance… please."
Laughing, Richer agreed,
"Alright."
Then the two of them danced together. The people around them smiled and applauded. With warm smiles, both of them thanked the crowd.
Then Richer asked a cameraman to take pictures of them. The cameraman brought them closer and captured the moment. In that instant, it wasn't only the grandeur of the palace that surrounded them, but also the silent harmony between two hearts—as if the place itself was witnessing an unspoken closeness between them.
Then Richer said softly,
"Come, Ramish… there's a library here as well. Let's go and see it."
Walking side by side, they entered the library.
Richer explained to Ramish that this was no ordinary library—it was a magnificent treasury of knowledge, history, and Arab civilization.
Books filled with Arab history, literature, culture, wisdom, and learning were arranged neatly, as if centuries of knowledge were standing silently, waiting for a reader.
Looking at the long rows of books, Ramish said,
"Richer, I really love reading history books. You can hear the breath of time within them."
Richer smiled and replied,
"I like reading about different civilizations and eras too. Perhaps that's why this place feels so close to my heart."
They spent a few moments wandering there, reading book titles and talking softly to each other, as if even their voices had softened in the quiet dignity of knowledge.
Then they moved ahead into a vast hall where the traditional Arab dance Al Ayala was being performed.
Twenty to twenty-five Arab men, holding sticks and swords in their hands, were dancing in perfect harmony to the deep rhythm of drums. The sound of footsteps, the beating drums, and the collective spirit echoed through the space like a living tradition.
Ramish and Richer looked at each other and smiled—then joined the dance themselves.
As they danced, their faces glowed with joy, as if for a brief moment they had become free from time, responsibilities, and the world itself.
Afterward, they moved on to the Presidential Banquet Hall—the grand space where royal feasts are hosted for state guests.
The high ceilings, the dignified atmosphere, and the quiet grandeur spoke without words. Both of them observed it in silence, as though countless historic decisions still echoed between those walls.
Then they reached the section displaying presidential gifts.
Elegant and precious gifts from different countries were beautifully arranged—exquisite designs, rare artifacts, and magnificent swords.
Their craftsmanship and artistry deeply captivated both Ramish and Richer.
Glancing at the time, Richer said,
"We should leave now. It's been an hour and a half, and we still have more places to visit."
Ramish nodded in agreement.
"Alright."
Hand in hand, they walked out of the palace.
Outside, they followed the path beside the beautiful water pools. The reflection of the palace in the water, the light dancing on its surface, and the calm spread through the air—all of it slowly settled into their hearts.
Stopping for a moment, Ramish said softly,
"I wish, Richer… I had a palace like that too. And we were its kings.
And that both this palace and my heart were ruled only by you.
That within these walls, I could see no beauty other than you."
Richer smiled—and as he smiled, he embraced Ramish.
A smile that carried fewer words and far deeper emotions.
Then they boarded the bus, which carried them back to the car waiting outside.
That afternoon at Qasr Al Watan—
filled with knowledge, tradition, dignity, joy,
and silent love—
had become yet another cherished memory,
forever preserved in both their hearts.