“Through five women’s love—and sorrow—Sami confronts the inescapable truth of who he is and who he might yet become.”
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The Hands of God is a masterfully written novel that chronicles the emotional odyssey of Sami, a young professor haunted by the past and burdened by expectation. After the loss of his father and the abandonment of his mother, Sami is raised by his grandmother, Teta Salma, who instills in him a stern moral compass. Yet his heart remains fractured as he navigates relationships with five pivotal women—each revealing a different aspect of his struggle.

As Sami searches for purpose and redemption, the sudden reappearance of his half-sister Lea and the ghost of his mother forces him to confront the duality of fate and choice. With themes of spirituality, guilt, identity, and love, The Hands of God resonates deeply with readers who believe in the power of story to heal and transform.

✨ For readers of deep, emotionally rich fiction—The Hands of God is a soul-stirring meditation on love, loss, faith, and what it means to be human.

“This book tore my heart open and stitched it back together again. May Safa is a rare talent—her writing is poetic, raw, and wise. Sami’s journey felt personal, universal, and unforgettable.”

Nadia K., Goodreads Reviewer

The Hands of God Excerpts

“If fury had a face, it mirrored in the depth of Lea’s glare, unearthing the darkness of her thoughts to the surface. Her fists were tightly clenched, as minuscule bubbles crystallized on the corner of her mouth, like venomous drops of dew. He fathomed she was rigid with rage and adamant upon inflicting pain on whoever crossed her path, her brother being the usual recipient of her wrath. The outburst had begun, raw and unabashed. 
Backing off slightly to allow reasonable space to moderate their upcoming confrontation, Sami was adamant about battling the rising tantrum. He would not allow her to submit him to her whims, not this time, not when Serine awaited his arrival and the day promised unrivaled pleasures.”
 
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“Every night he positioned himself across the street from her balcony, his gaze fixed on her apartment. Through the diaphanous curtains, he distinguished her figure moving back and forth in her living room and, in a dreamlike state, imagined the inside of the beloved apartment in its most intricate details. 
Every night he stood there watching, lost in contemplation, envisioning all sorts of things she did or did not do. He longed to ring her doorbell, but an inner voice prohibited him from doing so. Perhaps it was his grandmother’s admonitions or his own sense of protection toward Serine’s frailty; he could not truly tell. His mind was blurry, though what was certain was an evident sense of paralysis; Sami could not surmount his own misgivings and did not dare rekindle what once was. 
Every night he lingered in the same spot, until Serine switched off her lights and retreated to her bedroom for the night. His body satiated by Cynthia and his mind appeased by the knowledge that Serine was safely nestled in her bed, he quietly returned home to his family.”