unknown fate

Chapter Four

Ahlam lay sprawled on the bed, her face pale, eyes half-shut, while blood streamed from her wrist, staining the white sheets like a crimson river. Her breath trembled, a final desperate attempt to close a wound that would not heal.

Emam burst into the room like a storm, followed closely by Gawhar and Tizkar, both stumbling in panic. He rushed to her, lifting her frantically into his arms, while Tizkar’s scream pierced the silence of the house, and Gawhar struggled to keep her composure as she cleared the way. They hurried out together, terror carved onto their faces.

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At the Hospital

The room reeked of antiseptics; the harsh white light glared over Ahlam, lying weakly on the bed, surrounded by tubes and monitors. Tizkar and Gawhar stood anxiously at her side, while Emam faced the doctor, his trembling hands hidden behind a rigid posture.

Doctor (calmly, with clinical detachment):

– You can take her home in an hour. Her condition is stable, and the baby is fine. No complications.

Emam (stunned, his voice sharp):

– Baby? What baby?

The doctor’s faint smile was like a bomb dropped without warning:

– Your wife is three months pregnant, Mr. Emam. Congratulations.

The words fell into the room like lead. The doctor left quietly, closing the door behind him. Emam’s face tightened, torn between shock and rage.

Tizkar (her voice shaking):

– What did he just say, Emam?

Emam sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands, staring at the floor as turmoil consumed him. Suddenly, Tizkar’s eyes blazed; she lunged toward Ahlam, her hands clamping around her throat like a serpent.

Tizkar (furiously):

– I’ll kill you, Ahlam!

Emam rushed forward, prying Tizkar’s hands away, his voice erupting with fire:

– Not another word, Tizkar… and you too, Gawhar!

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Back at the Villa

The front door creaked open. Emam walked in, supporting Ahlam, her frail body leaning against him. Slowly, they climbed the stairs toward the second floor. Each step painted Emam’s face with brotherly concern, yet behind that mask lurked a darker truth, a shadow tightening its grip on his heart.

He opened her bedroom door, guided her inside, and helped her lie down. He pulled the blanket gently over her fragile frame, then stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

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In the Living Room

Descending the staircase, Emam’s steps grew deliberate, heavy. At the center of the living room, Gawhar and Tizkar sat on the couch, eyes fixed on him. He stood before them, voice sharp and commanding:

– Listen, Gawhar. And you, Tizkar. No one in this house speaks above me. No one touches Ahlam, no one dares harm her.

As for my mother… I was not wrong to go searching for her. And that does not mean I’ll betray the trust Jad – God rest his soul – left in my hands. You’ve known me long enough. I’m not someone you’re just getting to know today.

His words cut through the air. He cast them a long, final look, then strode to the door. As he flung it open, a voice called from the staircase above – Asrar, his wife, her tone laced with desperation and wounded pride:

– Emam… where are you going now? I need you.

Without turning, he answered coldly from the threshold:

– When I come back… we’ll talk, Asrar.

The door slammed behind him. His car roared to life, vanishing into the night as if fleeing from an unknown fate that chased him relentlessly.