Women's Revenge

Chapter Five - Episode Two

Scene 1

Aya stands before the apartment door, her hands trembling as she knocks repeatedly, each knock echoing in her heart, heavy with fear and confusion. Aisha opens the door, her eyes widening in shock and worry.

Aisha: "Where have you been, Aya?! Your father was looking for you in the street, and your phone was off! Why do you look like this?!"

Aya exhales slowly, her body exhausted, her voice weak from fatigue and sorrow:

Aya: "I… I got tired… I fell in the street… and they kept me in the hospital until morning."

Aisha softens slightly but continues to watch her anxiously. Aya leaves her behind, walking with heavy steps toward her room, closing the door quietly behind her. She collapses onto the bed, her eyes glistening with tears, her heart trapped in grief and pain that threaten to tear her apart from within.

The world seems to collapse around her in the silent room; her innocence has been stolen by those monsters, and she is engulfed by shame and confusion. How will she face her father and mother? How will she face society’s judgment? Will people see her as tainted? Will she ever be able to reclaim her life after this cursed day?

Aya lies on the bed, tears falling silently, each beat of her heart echoing an intense internal struggle between pain, fear, and the desperate desire to survive.

Scene Two

Aya sat on her bed in her room, clutching her stomach as a sharp, unrelenting pain coursed through her body. Slowly, she stood and approached the mirror, her eyes locking onto her reflection. Her hands traced her abdomen, noticing the unmistakable swelling, as if the mirror were confirming a reality she was not ready to face.

In the living room, Talat and Aisha sat side by side, the silence between them heavy and suffocating. Each was lost in thoughts about Aya.

**Talat:** "I don’t know what to do for Aya… she’s changed so much since Shadi’s death. He was a good, respectful boy, but this… we have to move past it… and you need to talk to her too."

Aisha shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with worry and helplessness: **Aisha:** "I don’t know how to talk to her… every time I try, she pushes me away, retreats to her room, locks herself in… and won’t come out."

Silence settled over the room once again, as if the walls themselves sensed a looming dread, something unspoken, a brewing inner struggle threatening to consume them all.

Scene Two

A piercing cry shattered the silence of the abandoned place. Aya lay on the dirty floor, without a bed, surrounded by garbage, her legs spread apart, her newborn child between them. Exhaustion and fatigue were written all over her face, tears streaming endlessly, mingling with the pain of childbirth and fear.

With trembling hands, she reached to her side, opened her bag, and pulled out a surgical scalpel. Using her teeth, she removed the blade cover, then leaned down and cut the baby’s umbilical cord. The infant whimpered and cried, its voice echoing through the empty space, while Aya retrieved a bottle of antiseptic from her bag, cleaned herself, and carefully tended to the baby’s wound amid the surrounding chaos.

Aya straightened up, sitting, spreading a white cloth from her bag on the floor, and lifted the baby onto her lap. She held the child to her chest and began breastfeeding. With each suckle, the baby gradually calmed and stopped crying, while Aya continued to weep, her eyes heavy with sorrow, fear, and a tangled love.

She whispered to herself, her voice low and heavy with pain and regret:

Aya: “I wish I could have let you grow up and live…”

Then she looked at the baby, lost and trembling, asking in a voice filled with confusion:

Aya: “Whose child are you?”

Tears streamed down her face as the infant rested in her arms. A new life had begun amid the silence and ruin, while her heart was torn by pain and fear of the uncertain future.

Scene Three

Aya stood on the banks of the Nile, the baby cradled in her hands, completely silent. Her eyes lingered on his small face, his innocent features untouched by life, as if time itself had paused for a moment, and all the pain they had carried seemed to concentrate in that silent instant.

Then, without a word, she gently tilted her body and let the baby fall into the cold waters of the Nile. He hit the water with a faint splash, and the current carried him away, while an emptiness pierced her chest.

She sat on the Nile’s edge, her body exhausted, her shoulders trembling from crying. Tears streamed down her face, burning, expressing her deep sorrow, her sense of losing everything as if the world around her was collapsing. The silence of the river did nothing to soften the echo of her grief; if anything, it made the weight of the moment even heavier. She sat there, caught between the water and the night, submerged in endless sorrow.