Women's Revenge

Chapter 6, Episode 6

Scene 1

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Samar pushed her way gently through the small crowd that had gathered around the fallen girl. Shoulders brushing past curious onlookers, she finally reached Bara’a, who sat trembling on the cold asphalt, her arms shaking as silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

Samar knelt in front of her, taking her hand with a careful grip to still its quiver. She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to Bara’a’s forehead, her voice warm yet edged with worry.

— I’m so sorry… Are you okay?

Bara’a didn’t answer. Her sobs came in short, broken breaths, her eyes unfocused as if the world around her had gone dim.

Dareen stepped nearer, anxiety flickering across her face as she looked to Samar.

— Can we take her with us?

Samar turned to her quickly, nodding without hesitation, her tone gentle but firm.

— Of course we can.

Then she looked straight into Bara’a’s tearful eyes.

— What’s your name, sweetheart?

Bara’a wiped at her cheeks with a trembling hand, her voice a faint, fragile thread.

— Bara’a.

Dareen offered a reassuring smile and extended her hand.

— Come with us, Bara’a.

Slowly, as though any sudden movement might shatter her, Bara’a allowed them to help her to her feet. The crowd watched in silence, their curious eyes following but no one daring to speak.

The three of them walked toward the car parked at the edge of the road. Samar opened the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel, while Dareen took the seat beside her, glancing back repeatedly in quiet concern. Bara’a climbed into the back, settling next to Aya, who had been watching everything with wide, luminous eyes that caught the streetlight.

With a swift turn of the key, the engine hummed to life. Samar guided the car forward, cutting through the lingering noise of horns and restless city sounds, steering them toward the distant villa. The night stretched endlessly ahead, the city seeming to swallow every echo but the quiet, tangled breaths of the four young women—each one sensing, without words, that something had begun which none of them could yet name.

Scene Two

Samar stepped into the center of the spacious living room, where modern sofas and plush chairs were arranged around an elegant glass table. Her gesture was accompanied by a warm, inviting smile. **Samar (gesturing toward the seats):** "Please… make yourselves comfortable here."

The girls exchanged quick glances before **Darine** moved first, settling onto a soft gray-upholstered chair. **Aya** followed, and then **Bara’a**, who seemed slightly hesitant, lowering her head shyly.

Samar walked toward the kitchen, leaving them in a calm silence, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Darine turned to Bara’a, her eyes full of concern, leaning slightly toward her: **Darine (in a reassuring voice):** "Are you okay?"

Bara’a lifted her gaze for a moment, a small, trembling smile forming on her lips: **Bara’a (shyly):** "I’m okay."

But Darine’s worry was obvious; she leaned closer, her tone more serious: **Darine (inquiring):** "Do you need a doctor?"

Before Bara’a could answer, the soft sound of footsteps approached from the kitchen. Samar appeared, carrying a silver tray with three glasses of cold juice, droplets of condensation sparkling along the rims. **Bara’a (in a low voice):** "No… it’s nothing."

Samar carefully placed the tray on the table, then sat down in front of them, lifting one of the glasses with a gentle, apologetic smile. **Samar:** "Sorry… there’s no one else in the house but me, and all I have is juice."

She took a small sip before continuing, her eyes warm, as if opening a window into her own world: **Samar:** "Let me introduce myself… my name is Samar, I’m thirty-five. My mom and dad passed away… and I live alone in this entire house."

She paused for a moment, giving them space to absorb the quiet weight of her solitude, then turned toward Aya with an encouraging smile: "Now, you can continue your story, Aya… if you don’t mind."

Aya took a deep breath, running her fingers along the edge of the chair, and then began speaking in a soft voice that slowly filled the room, her words carrying the beginning of her story.

A heavy silence settled over the spacious living room. Not a sound could be heard except for the faint, uneven breaths and the trembling words that Aya was struggling to release. She stared at the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the chair, then suddenly lifted her head as if confronting a ghost that had haunted her for years.

Aya (voice choked with pain):

"I had to do it… for my dad’s reputation… and for my mom too. She could have died from what happened. And since that day… I’ve been living on the streets. All of this… because of those dogs…"

She paused, exhaling deeply, her gaze dropping again, as if the last words had drained her more than life itself.

"But… that’s my whole story."

Silence fell again, heavier this time, as if the room itself were holding its breath out of respect for her pain. Samar’s eyes moved slowly between the girls, carrying a mixture of sympathy and quiet anger at what she had just heard. She turned deliberately toward Bara’a, who sat at the edge of the sofa, hands clasped together as if holding on to the remnants of herself.

Samar (gentle, compassionate tone):

"And you, Bara’a?"

Bara’a lifted her head hesitantly. Her lips trembled before speaking, and her glassy eyes glistened under the soft light, as though fighting back old tears:

Bara’a (voice shaky but sincere):

"This… is the first time in my life I’ve felt safe. No one has ever lived my story… and the one who hurt me was supposed to protect me."

She paused, swallowing hard, then continued with sharper bitterness:

"The people closest to me made me live my life opposite to everyone else… to the point that I can’t tell right from wrong. They taught me nothing but the filthiest things anyone could ever learn."

Her words fell like a long-buried confession, leaving only the echo of pain in the room. Samar sat for a moment in silence, absorbing the weight of the tragedy that had unfolded in her home. She realized that this was no longer just a passing encounter—it was the beginning of intertwined destinies.

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