unknown fate

Chapter Three

The wedding was nothing short of grand—blaring music, colorful lights, and famous singers entertaining the night. Imam sat proudly beside his bride, Asrar, flanked by her six sisters. Behind them, Tazkar and Jawaher, Jad’s wives, watched the celebration unfold.

Businessmen, d**g lords, and public figures from across the region filled the place, engaging in hushed conversations, deals, and laughter—just like any wedding in this world of power and corruption.

As midnight approached, the time for the bridal march arrived. Imam and Asrar walked hand in hand from the villa garden toward the grand entrance, followed closely by her sisters. Tazkar and Jawaher came behind them, while Jad, dignified as always, was the last to step toward the door.

Suddenly, a gunshot split the night. The music stopped. Jad collapsed at the villa’s threshold, blood pouring from his chest.

Chaos erupted—screams tore through the air. Tazkar and Jawaher threw themselves onto the floor beside his lifeless body, wailing in despair. The sisters huddled together, crying and trembling.

Imam rushed forward, cradling Jad’s head in his arms, kissing him through his tears:

— I swear, I’ll never let the one who killed you go. I’ll take your revenge, Jad!

His voice rose, fierce and guttural, echoing across the stunned silence:

— I’ll take your revenge, Jad!

Meanwhile, Jad’s bodyguards scattered across the garden, desperately searching for the shooter. But the bullet had come from the shadows, a faceless enemy. No trace of the killer could be found.

The following day…

Imam bid farewell to his father’s friends who had come to offer condolences. Their words of comfort did little to ease the bitterness of loss. Once the last guest left, silence swallowed the villa.

That night, Imam lay on the bed, exhausted, with his bride Asrar beside him.

She spoke hesitantly, her voice trembling with honesty:

— I never imagined I’d one day be your wife… but the truth is, something always pulled me toward you. Sometimes I’d feel strange emotions and ask myself: is this love? Then I’d scold myself—impossible, he’s your brother.

But then I’d remember: no, he’s not your brother, you just grew up together.

Her eyes grew distant as she continued:

— No, no… I shouldn’t have thought like that. I told myself this could never work. Until the day Dad—may God rest his soul—said: “I want you to marry Imam.” I couldn’t answer… I just looked down, and he smiled: “Congratulations, my daughter.” He kissed my forehead and left. Then you followed him into the office… and came back angry, storming out of the house.

Imam turned away, his voice heavy:

— I’m too tired to talk now, Asrar.

She reached out gently, placing her hand on his head:

— What’s wrong, Imam?

But Imam rose abruptly, left the bed, and walked out of the room. Asrar sat silently, sadness shadowing her face.

Inside the office, Imam sat in Jad’s chair. The silence pressed down on him as questions churned in his mind:

— Who killed Jad? We had no real enemies… just small disputes, nothing worth murder. And even if someone dared… how could they strike him down on my wedding night? Looks like I’m destined to carry this burden alone… always alone.

His thoughts turned darker:

— And what I’ve done with Asrar… it isn’t right. She doesn’t deserve this. I can’t bring myself to be close to her… in my eyes, she’s still my sister.

My sister?… Where are my real siblings? Where’s my mother? How did I never once think to look for them? Maybe now—after Jad’s death—I finally feel the emptiness.

He lit a joint, inhaled deeply, and muttered:

— So much needs fixing… and I’ll start in the old neighborhood. That’s where I’ll find answers.

The night blurred into morning. Imam woke up, startled, in Asrar’s embrace. Pulling away quickly, he stepped into the bathroom for a shower, then dressed. Moments later, he was behind the wheel, leaving the villa… driving toward an uncertain beginning.

In the old neighborhood where Imam grew up…

He stands in the street beside an elderly sheikh.

Sheikh: Your mother is originally from Upper Egypt, a very respectable woman. And your father—may he rest in peace—he was a good and quiet man. But sadly, the drinking in his last days ruined him, and he divorced your mother. After that, she took your sisters and went back to her family’s village.

Imam’s mind drifts into memory…

He sees his mother and his little sisters walking down a rain-soaked street, their clothes wet, their faces heavy with sorrow.

Imam (softly, with emotion): Do you know exactly where her village is, sheikh? What’s it called?

Sheikh: Yes, my son… It’s a village in Upper Egypt, belongs to a big family called (…).

Imam smiles faintly, pulls some money from his pocket.

Imam: Thank you, sheikh… please take this.

He gets into his car and drives away.

Hours later, he arrives at a small village deep in Upper Egypt. He stops the car beside a passerby.

Imam: Excuse me… where’s the house of the (…) family?

Man: Just keep going straight for about five kilometers. Don’t turn left or right. You’ll find the house right in front of you.

Imam: Thank you.

He continues driving until he reaches a large rural house surrounded by palm trees.

On a bench outside sits an elderly woman—Zeinab.

Imam stops, steps out of the car slowly, and walks forward with heavy steps, as if the ground itself is pulling him back. He sees her from behind, and his heartbeat quickens. He inhales deeply, recognizing her scent instantly.

Imam (whispering to himself): It’s her… it’s my mother. Zeinab. Her scent hasn’t changed since I was a little boy. I could never forget it…

He finally stands in front of her.

Zeinab senses someone’s presence, trembles, and grips her cane.

Zeinab (fearful): Who are you?

Imam (voice trembling with emotion): It’s me, Imam… your son. Don’t you recognize me?

Zeinab (gasping, tears in her eyes): Imam?! … Come here, my dear… come into my arms.

She opens her arms wide. Imam falls into her embrace, weeping like a child—years of loss and longing finally breaking free.

Imam (in shock): You don’t recognize me, Mother?

Zainab (smiling with tears in her eyes): I smelled your scent, my dear… it hasn’t changed.

Imam looks closely at her face and realizes Zainab has lost her sight. His eyes well up with tears.

Imam: Where are my sisters, Mother?

Zainab (sorrowfully): I lost them on the train… the day your father threw us out of the house. Since then, I’ve been searching for them until my eyesight faded from all the crying.

Imam (firmly): Come with me, Mother… we’ll return to Egypt. I’ll search for them and I’ll find them.

Zainab (shaking her head sadly): No, my son… it’s over. What’s left of my life is less than what has already passed. I can never go back to Egypt after your father expelled me. I’ll live out my remaining days here.

Imam (clinging to her): I could never leave you after all these years… I finally found you.

Zainab (weakly): Tell me, Imam… where is your brother Hossam?

Imam (sighs): I don’t know, Mother. The day you and my sisters left… Father threw us out. A man came and took Hossam in his car and left… and I stayed with Father, who died the next day.

Zainab (shocked): Abdel Rahman is dead?!… And you left your brother, Imam?

Imam (bowing his head): Mother… I was still a child. What could I have done?

Zainab (teary-eyed): When you find your sisters… you know where I am now. Go, Imam… forget me so you can live. I’m already bidding this world farewell.

Imam (resolute): I will never forget you. I’ll find them… and I’ll come back to you, Mother.

Imam stands up, bids her farewell with his eyes, then heads to his car. He drives back to Cairo, haunted by the echo of his thoughts.

When he arrives at the villa, he opens the door and enters. He finds Jawhar and Tazkar sitting in the living room.

Jawhar (sternly): Did you find your mother, Imam?! I knew you wouldn’t be like Jad, leaving us and running off.

Tazkar (interrupting her): Why are you saying that, Jawhar? Imam is kind and good-hearted.

Imam (angrily): Listen to me, both of you…

Suddenly, his words are cut short by a piercing scream from upstairs—Ahlam’s voice.

Imam rushes up the stairs, Jawhar and Tazkar following close behind. He violently opens Ahlam’s bedroom door… and enters.

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