Scars of fate

Mohammed returned home at night after a hard day of commuting between different parts of town in his taxi, his only source of income. He opened the door of his house and paused before entering, as if the desire that drove him to enter every time had faded. That beautiful voice that greeted him with words of love and the innocent face that made him smile whenever he saw it were no longer present in this house. His beloved daughter, Alaa, had spent the night before at her husband's house. He sighed, then told himself, forcing his leg forward, "It's the way of life, Mohammed. You have to get used to this situation. Alaa is in her husband's house now, and all you have to do is wish her happiness." Then he greeted his family, saying, "Peace be upon you, Suhaila, Youssef, where are you?" The young woman peeked her head out from the kitchen, a smile plastered on her flour-covered face, and said, "Welcome back, Dad." The father smiled and said, his voice laced with laughter, "What have you done to yourself?" She scratched her head in embarrassment and then replied, "It's a failed attempt at preparing edible food, but it seems I've failed." "Then we'll go to bed hungry today." "Most likely, don't expect a miracle from me, Father." "Don't worry, my dear, our dinner is in this bag." He had barely finished his sentence when she jumped toward the bag and said, "Really? And what's in it?" "Bread and cheese," he replied with the same smile. Signs of displeasure appeared on her face, but she quickly dispelled them when she remembered her sister's advice: "Suhaila, you know that our father works hard and struggles to earn a living, so don't burden him and accept whatever he prepares without complaint." She snatched the bag from his hand and said, "Thank you, Father. I'll put it on the table for us to eat together." "And where is Youssef?" Muhammad stopped her with his question, and she answered, "He's inside, reviewing his lessons."

Suhaila placed the pieces of cheese and bread on the table, then called her brother, "Come on, Youssef, come eat."

Youssef came out of his room and headed straight to the table. He snatched a piece of bread and said, chewing it in his mouth, "I don't smell anything. What did you prepare?"

"I didn't manage to prepare anything."

"You should have learned a little from Alaa. It seems we won't know how to eat delicious food anymore."

She approached him and whispered in his ear, "I only found some flour. There's nothing for us to eat other than the bread and cheese that Dad brought a while ago, so don't complain so much."

"What are the brothers whispering about, I wonder?"

The father asked as he dried his wet hands.

Youssef tried to evade the answer, so he jumped toward his father, kissed his right hand, and said, "Good evening, Dad."

- May God be pleased with you, my son.

- You look very tired. It seems that work is starting to tire you out.

- Don't worry, this is my duty.

Then he put his arm around his back and added, "Let's eat before the bread gets cold."

They sat on the wooden chairs and the square-shaped table, which couldn't hold more than two plates. They began to eat. Youssef said, "Father, I'll start working tomorrow."

There was no answer. The young man turned to his father and saw him lost in thought, smiling as if he remembered something. He nudged him and said, "Father..."

Muhammad snapped out of his reverie and said, "What? Were you saying something?"

- I was saying that I wanted to work to help you."

The father's face showed signs of annoyance, and he said sharply, "We've talked about this several times, and I told you that your main role is to study only. Focus on your studies."

Youssef responded with a grumble, "But you get very tired." - Youssef, finish eating and go review your lessons.

He then got up angrily, and Youssef stopped him: "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm full, thank God."

He headed toward the room he shared with his son. The house consisted of only two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. One room was for Mohammed and Youssef, and the other was for Alaa and Suhaila.

Suhaila whispered, reproaching her brother: "Do you like this? He hasn't eaten anything because of you."

"He needs to understand that I've become a man and that I deserve to help him."

"Help doesn't come like this, Youssef. You've angered him."

"I didn't say anything that upsetting, but it seems to me that he's deeply affected by Alaa's departure.

"He has every right to be affected. The house is lonely without her, and she was very close to him."

"Yes, and I miss her."

" ...............

This was the state of Mohammed's family after the marriage of Alaa, the closest person to Mohammed's heart. After her mother's death, she took responsibility for keeping her father steadfast. She saw him spending his own money to provide for their needs, smiling in their faces to bring them joy despite the sadness that had woven its threads in his heart, and working day and night to keep them from feeling different from other people. For this reason, she stopped studying early to care for her siblings and father, and to contribute to the household expenses, she worked making beaded bracelets and selling them to a shop owner.#Scars_of_Fate But within two months, everything changed. Suhaila began spending most of her time with Hajar, a new friend who had recently moved to the department. It wasn't long before she became the closest to her, despite the vast difference between them. Hajar, who would never wear the same outfit twice and constantly boasted about her family's inexhaustible wealth and possessions, didn't need much effort to win Suhaila's heart. She was a sensible girl who was raised according to the rules set by Muhammad, based on Islamic law. She was modest in her dress and manners, and focused on completing her final year of high school with an honorable grade that would please her father. While her classmates were in the same class, Suhaila and her turbaned companions wandered around the shops all the time. Hajar didn't miss any opportunity to cultivate her toxic thoughts. Hardly had the two months passed before her thoughts fully entered Suhaila's mind, forcing her to reconsider things she had never questioned before. The veil, which she had seen as a queen in, had become, in her eyes, a tent that bound her tightly and made her appear to be in her forties. As for Mohammed, who had never withheld anything that made her happy, he seemed like a father who had deprived her of worldly happiness. Gradually, the evil seed grew in her soul and darkened her bonds. ... The day had come when Alaa would visit her father's house for the second time after her marriage. Mohammed had prepared all the delicious food he could for her and her husband to share for dinner. "I won't go to work today. I'll make sure to prepare everything to welcome my princess," Mohammed said, his face filled with joy. Youssef smiled, "We missed seeing the signs of joy on your face, Father." He replied, smiling, "I won't lie, my son. Alaa's departure fell on my heart like burning coals. It's true that she visited us last time, but the visit was very short. - Your heart is thirsty, and a lifetime with her won't be enough to quench it, but you will see her today and spend two full days with her. ........... Youssef went to university, where he was spending his fourth and final year majoring in artificial intelligence, and Suhaila went to high school, as she claimed. Mohammed continued to prepare for the banquet, lovingly engraving its details and smiling every second with every moment he remembered with his beloved. Mohammed stood in front of the table, gazing at her with eyes filled with happiness, imagining himself sitting at the same table next to Alaa, feeding her bites of what he had prepared with his own hands. Suddenly, he heard a notification on his phone. He picked it up, and what it read was enough to dispel all that happiness. It was a message from his daughter, apologizing for not coming for reasons beyond her control. Youssef and Suhaila returned to find their father sitting on the couch, embracing his disappointment. Youssef teased him, "Dad showed off all his cooking talents today, praise be to God." Suhaila wondered, "Why are you looking so gloomy, Father?" He replied, his voice laced with disappointment, "You won't come. I sent a message apologizing for not coming." Youssef: "And I'm telling you, Father, what's not as you left it this morning." Mohammed shook off his disappointment, stood up, and said firmly, "If you don't come, we'll go to her ourselves." Suhaila's face lit up, and she said, "Really?" He replied, "Yes, I'll gather food for us to take with us and share." Youssef: "We'll help you so we don't get late." They gathered everything on the table and headed toward her house. It was eight o'clock at night. Mohammed parked his yellow car in front of the building. The three of them descended, driven by their longing to see their beloved. They climbed the stairs toward the third floor, where they heard voices and screams. The closer they got to the residence, the closer the sounds became. It was a man's screaming voice, accompanied by the screams of a woman calling for help. As soon as the sound reached Mohammed's ears, the blood drained from his veins. He froze when he saw the crowd gathered around Alaa's residence door, knocking on it and shouting their intentions to stop what was happening behind it. His eyes widened, and he said in a voice filled with confusion, "Alaa..." He and Youssef jumped toward the door, jostling with the crowd and heading straight for it, knocking and calling, "Reza, Reza, come on, open up! What are you doing?" A neighbor stopped them, saying, "Don't try in vain. Every time he does this, he ignores our pleas until he quells his anger and throws her to the ground." Mohammed looked at his son and said, "We'll break down the door." Youssef nodded, and his father began pushing the door open with all his might, helping him until they finally broke it open. The world was pressing down on Mohammed's chest as he heard his son-in-law screaming and hitting him. He quickly ran towards the source of the sound, and his eyes fell on Alaa's body lying on the ground, surrounded by a torrent of blood gushing from her head. Reda was kicking her, shouting, "He won't live, and neither will you." Mohammed's arrow flew out of the bow to hit his son-in-law. He pushed him straight away, causing her to fall to the ground. Then he bent down towards Alaa, and his heart bowed before him. He lifted her head, stained with blood, and ran his tender hand over her face, saying in a hoarse voice, "My love, can you hear me, my daughter?" But no response came. Suhaila's agitated voice suddenly sounded: "She's not breathing. Is she dead?"

...............