Women's Revenge

Episode The eighth

Aroua and Leqaa stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the elderly residents who filled the quiet of the home with their gentle daily routines. Some women sat in chairs, reading books, delicate glasses resting on their noses, while others were eating, another combing her hair carefully, and yet another knitting with slow, precise movements. Despite the frailty and the passing years, soft smiles played across their faces, as if time had never touched the grace of their spirits.

Aroua gazed at them, handing her glasses to some, as if searching for something lost long ago, something that had tied her to a world that had vanished. There was a mixture of longing and uncertainty in her eyes, an attempt to understand this new place she now found herself in.

Leqaa whispered, her voice gentle, reassuring Aroua’s heart: — So, Aroua, what do you think? Are you going to stay here with these lovely people?

Aroua nodded in agreement, then lightly pointed to some of the other residents in the home, trying to build small bridges of connection and warmth.

Leqaa smiled as she introduced the women: — This is Mama Amal, and this is Mama Azza, and this is Mama Alya… they’re all “Mama”!

Leqaa let out a soft laugh, and Aroua returned it with a tender smile, feeling an unfamiliar warmth creeping into her heart.

Then Leqaa continued in a gentle tone: — If you need anything, ask Tharaa. And I’ll come every week to sit with you for a while. This is Aroua, Tharaa, and Tharaa, this is Aroua. I’m leaving now… bye!

Leqaa left Aroua standing in the middle of the living room, walking toward the door. She opened it, stepped outside, and closed it quietly behind her.

Aroua paused for a moment, looking around at the residents in the home. Warmth spread through her chest, and a calm smile formed on her lips. She felt that this place, despite its newness, might be the beginning of something she hadn’t known before—perhaps a sense of belonging, perhaps the start of a new chapter in her life.

Silence filled the room, yet Aroua sensed life pulsing behind each of these women’s faces, life carrying untold stories, and a hope that had not died despite all that time had passed.

(Chapter Three)

Baraa was in the room when Kadri entered, holding his keys as if the room were a small prison. He closed the door behind him, and the silence that filled the space was heavy, as if even the air trembled.

Kadri moved toward the table in the corner, opened a small drawer, and took out a box of pills, while Baraa watched him without moving. He poured water into a glass and handed it to her; Baraa slowly took the pills and then returned the glass to the table.

Kadri smiled, wiping his mustache with a sense of satisfaction, and approached her slowly. His gaze was filled with control and authority, while Baraa remained calm, silent, hiding a deep fear inside.

After a while, Kadri left the room, wiping his mustache again, standing by the door as he watched her. Baraa began putting on her clothes, not daring to look at him directly.

Suddenly, she called out to him:

— Dad.

Kadri rushed in, his anger evident, his eyes radiating harshness.

— I told you not to say that word again!

Baraa trembled and whispered fearfully:

— Okay.

Kadri asked sharply:

— What do you want?

— I want to go to the bathroom…

He nodded slowly, then grabbed her hand firmly and led her out of the room, each step heavy with tension and fear, as if every corner of the house were watching them.

Baraa entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving silence to fill the small space. Outside, Kadri stood waiting, a strange, uneasy feeling pressing against his chest. Unable to stand still, he sat on the couch in front of the bathroom, silently watching every movement behind the closed door.

After a few moments, Baraa emerged, her eyes sharp, attentive to every detail. Kadri raised his voice, pleading:

— Bring the medicine from the table.

Baraa approached the table to take the medicine, but something caught her attention. Lying carelessly beside the table was a rectangular piece of iron—a small metal pipe. She picked it up, a surge of determination coursing through her, and moved toward Kadri with careful, deliberate steps.

In a swift motion, she struck him on the head with the metal pipe. Kadri collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Without hesitation, she searched his pockets and took the keys and money, reclaiming what was hers.

Baraa walked to the apartment door, turned the key, and stepped outside. She paused at the doorway, casting a quick glance at Kadri, blood running from his head, noticing that he was still moving slightly—alive.

She closed the apartment door behind her, taking a deep breath before leaving, carrying with her a mix of fear and empowerment, as if she had just emerged from a dark labyrinth into a world still chaotic and unsafe