unknown fate

Chapter One - Episode Two

Scene 1

Zeinab and Abdelrahman

The night grew heavier, rain hammering the windows like war drums.

Inside, Abdelrahman slumped in his chair, a bottle of liquor in his hand, his eyes hollow with exhaustion and rage.

Zeinab (her voice trembling yet sharp):

“Imam is sick, he needs medicine, and the rent is overdue… Ever since you retired you’ve done nothing but drown yourself in this poison!”

Abdelrahman (rising, veins throbbing):

“Poison? It’s poison on your head… and the head of the one who brought you into this world! It’s all your fault… all of it!”

He lunges at her, striking with blind fury.

Zeinab (crying out in pain):

“Now you beat me too?! I never saw a single good day with you, Abdelrahman!”

Abdelrahman (snarling):

“If you don’t like it, Zeinab, leave!”

Zeinab (through tears, defiant):

“Divorce me then, Abdelrahman… divorce me!”

Abdelrahman (like a madman):

“You’re divorced—three times over, Zeinab! Get out… OUT!”

His blows rain down harder, until the children awake—Imam, Hossam, Hanan, Gharam, and Anbar—running from their rooms, their cries piercing the storm outside.

They throw themselves between their mother and father, tiny hands trying to shield her.

Abdelrahman freezes, breath ragged. He collapses back into his chair, gulps from the bottle, lights a cigarette, as if nothing had happened.

Zeinab, shaking, retreats into her room. She gathers a small bag, drapes her black abaya over her shoulders, and steps out.

Her children cling to her, their eyes red with fear.

She opens the door—rain lashes down, the darkness swallows them.

Abdelrahman stumbles after her into the street, rage boiling through the liquor.

Abdelrahman (voice breaking with fury):

“Leave Imam and Hossam! Take your daughters, that’s enough… To hell with you and them!”

He seizes Hossam in one hand, Imam in the other, dragging them inside. He slams the door shut—like sealing a tomb.

Zeinab stands frozen, staring at the locked door. Slowly, she turns to her daughters—Hanan, Gharam, and Anbar—their clothes drenched, tears streaming down their cheeks.

The clock has long passed midnight.

The rain shows no mercy.

With heavy yet resolute steps, she walks on with her girls.

Her destination: her family’s house in Upper Egypt.

An old house—

but the last refuge she has left.

Scene Two

The night was heavy, rain pouring down as if to wash away the sins of the earth. Inside, however, evil was taking root. Abdelrahman sat drinking, his eyes sunken, his tongue weighed down by harsh words.

He muttered in a slurred, weary voice:

— Go to bed, kids.

But Imam, his small eyes filled with anger, faced him:

— Why do you hit Mom? Why do you throw her out of the house? What did she do?!

Abdelrahman roared, staggering like a wounded beast:

— You dare question me, boy?! Get to bed before I show you!

Imam shot back, with a stubbornness far beyond his age:

— I won’t go to bed... I need to know why you treat Mom this way!

Abdelrahman snapped. He grabbed Imam with one hand and his brother Hossam with the other, then swung the door wide and hurled them both into the rain-soaked street.

He spat as he slammed the door shut:

— Go look for your mother, Zainab’s brats... you’re not worth raising!

The door closed, the sound of the house vanished, and the boys were left outside to face the biting cold of the night. They sat against the wall, pulling their knees to their chests, their thin bodies shivering under the merciless rain.

Suddenly, a sleek car stopped in front of them. The window slid down slowly, revealing a well-dressed man whose face bore the marks of wealth. It was Ghālī.

He spoke in a warm, affected tone:

— Why are you sitting here, little ones? What’s your name, sweetheart?

Imam replied cautiously:

— Imam.

The man turned to the other:

— And you?

Hossam answered quickly:

— Hossam.

Ghālī smiled broadly:

— Come on, kids... get in the car.

Hossam hesitated, but Ghālī stepped out, opened the back door, and coaxed him:

— Get in, Hossam. And you, Imam... what are you waiting for? Come along.

Imam shouted defiantly:

— No!

He turned to his brother:

— Don’t go, Hossam! Where are you going?!

But Hossam, his voice broken, replied:

— It’s better than staying with Dad, who threw us into the street... Come on, Imam... this man is kind.

He winked at his brother, but Imam shook his head firmly:

— I said no, Hossam!

Ghālī laughed mockingly, clapping his hands once:

— As you wish... stay in the rain then! Stubborn... so stubborn.

He closed the door, the car sped away carrying Hossam with it, while Imam remained behind. Alone. Hugging his knees, curling into his thin clothes, as the rain poured over his head—

as though the sky itself wept with him.

Scene Three

Abdelrahman sat on the chair, a bottle of liquor in his hand, his eyes lost in the void. His voice trembled as he spoke to himself, as if putting his own soul on trial:

— What have you done, Abdelrahman?! Go, bring the children back from the street... What guilt is theirs? Who in his right mind throws his own children into the street like that?!

His words were broken, soaked with a regret he had never felt before. It seemed his conscience had finally awakened.

He staggered to his feet and stepped out into the street, the winter rain pouring down harder, drenching his clothes and washing his weary face.

There, by the wall, sat Imam, curling his small body into himself, weeping helplessly beneath the rain.

Abdelrahman approached, knelt beside him, and pulled him into his arms as though trying to shield him from the whole world. With a hoarse voice, he asked:

— Where’s Hossam, Imam?!

The boy choked on his tears as he answered:

— A man in a car... he came and took Hossam away.

Abdelrahman’s heart shuddered. He clutched his son’s shoulder and said in desperation:

— Come, tell me what happened.

They entered the house together. Abdelrahman sank into the chair again, weighed down by drunkenness and sorrow, while Imam stood silently before him.

Abdelrahman’s voice wavered between anger and fear:

— Who was the man that took your brother, Imam?!

The child answered cautiously, his eyes glistening with rain and tears:

— A man who looked very rich... he told me to come with him, but I refused. Hossam got into the car with him... and then they left.

Abdelrahman buried his head in his hands, groaning bitterly... realizing that what he had lost this time might never return.

**Abdelrahman bent his back, his gaze fixed on the ground, his hands covering his face…** *"You’ve lost your brother, you worthless fool…!"*