unknown fate

Chapter One - Episode Three

Scene 1

**Zeinab stood on the train platform, clutching her three daughters as though they were the last thread tying her to life.** Faces around her were weary, eyes anxious, and the platform overflowed with passengers waiting for the Upper Egypt train.

As the whistle pierced the air and the train pulled in, people surged like a flood toward the doors—some trying to get off, others forcing their way in at the same time, bodies colliding in suffocating chaos.

Zeinab gripped **Hanan’s** hand tightly and cried out, her voice trembling: — *Hold on to each other, girls…!*

Hanan held on to **Gharam**, and Gharam pulled along **Anbar**. Three fragile flowers clinging to one another against the storm.

Shoving, shouting, crushing footsteps… and suddenly, a rough hand pushed Zeinab violently into the train. She fell face-first onto the floor just as the train let out its iron scream and began to move.

Zeinab’s cry tore through the carriage: — *My daughters! My daughters! Stop the train, let me off, please!*

A man among the passengers approached her with cold indifference, murmuring: — Calm down, woman… calm down… God will compensate you.

He left her and went to sit on a seat, as though nothing had happened. But she remained on the floor, sobbing bitterly, her eyes searching for the three small shadows swallowed by the crowd.

And in the background, the mocking voice of a street vendor rang out: — *Sweet candy, sweet candy! Makes the old woman young again… sweet candy, sweet candy! Turns the proper lady into a playful one…*

A cruel chorus, stabbing deeper into her wounded heart.

Scene Two

As dawn broke, the call to prayer echoed across the sky, and the rain suddenly ceased, as if heaven itself had chosen silence.

Abdul Rahman sat slumped in his chair, his frail body trembling, before collapsing helplessly onto the floor.

Imam rushed to him in panic, crying out:

— Dad... Dad!

He struggled to lift his father’s body, but Abdul Rahman’s eyes were wide open, staring into an emptiness from which there was no return. Trembling, Imam screamed in anguish:

— Dad is dead...

He burst into tears, running toward the door, desperate for help.

At that very moment, Jad, Abdul Rahman’s neighbor, was passing by on his way to the dawn prayer. Hearing Imam’s cries, he hurried to the door and knocked. The boy opened it, his face streaked with tears, whispering:

— Dad is gone, uncle...

Jad entered the house with heavy steps, his eyes falling on Abdul Rahman lying motionless. Kneeling beside him, he gently closed the man’s eyes with a trembling hand, murmuring with grief:

— There is no power and no strength except in God... May God have mercy on you, Abdul Rahman.

The door remained ajar, and three men from the neighborhood passed by. Catching sight of the scene, they rushed inside.

One of them asked anxiously:

— What happened, Haj Jad?

With tears glistening in his eyes, Jad replied:

— Abdul Rahman has died.

Scene Three

Imam sat beside Jad and a few men from the neighborhood in Abdelrahman’s house, after laying his body to rest in its final place. The air was heavy with incense, and sorrow weighed on every face.

Imam broke the silence, his voice trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks:

— After my father beat my mother and threw her and my sisters out of the house… he cast me and Hossam into the street. A man came in a car and told me, “Come with me, my boy.” I refused to go, but Hossam got in and left with him. Later, my father found me in the street, brought me back home, asked me what had happened… I told him, and as soon as I finished, he collapsed and died before my eyes… So I came to you, Uncle Jad…

Jad sighed bitterly, clapping his hands together:

— God have mercy on you, Abdelrahman… You lived well, yet you had to leave ruin behind before you went! Listen, men… I’ll take Imam to live with me. Anyone object?

The men of the neighborhood cried out in unison, as though blessing the decision:

— God bless you, Master Jad. May He grant you more, may He open doors for you.

Jad turned to Imam, his eyes soft with compassion:

— And you, Imam… Do you agree to come live with me?

Imam could not speak. He only wept, wiping his tears with his small hand. Jad rose, placed his palm gently on the boy’s head, then grasped his hand with the strength of a father, not the distance of a stranger. His voice carried a promise of hope:

— Come on then, young master Imam… You have a great future ahead of you.