Scene One –
Night crept over the villa like a heavy curtain, swallowing the halls and furniture in an eerie silence broken only by the soft creak of the door closing. Imam stepped inside, his movements unsteady, the faint scent of alcohol mingling with the smoke of tobacco. His half-closed eyes and drawn features carried the weight of an entire world. He shut the door with deliberate care, leaning against it for a brief moment as if to gather his breath, before making his way, slow and heavy-footed, toward the living room.
He dropped into a plush armchair at the center of the room, crossing one leg over the other with a show of careless ease, and lit a cigarette that trembled slightly between his fingers. Spirals of gray smoke rose and broke apart, carried by his uneven breathing, while
