2

"Half an hour later."

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She descended the antique wooden staircase, wearing white trousers paired with a loose, short-sleeved grey top that reached mid-abdomen. Her golden hair was styled simply, pinned up to keep its length from getting in her way. She reached the center of the spacious ground-floor living area, where Mrs.

Hanan—her half-sisters' grandmother—resided in this four-story house. On the second floor lay Murad’s private apartment;

he often sat and worked there alone, preferring the quiet to the noise made by his younger half-sisters, who spent most of their time downstairs with their grandmother.

The third floor housed the apartment of Nader and his family—comprising another brother and a younger sister in high school—while the fourth floor was the apartment of her stepfather, where she herself lived.

The hall was empty, save for the servants who were bustling about their work with energy and diligence. She walked quietly, idly fiddling with her long fingernails, which were meticulously painted a vibrant red. On her way, she ran into Laila, who stopped her and asked with a cheerful, playful smile:

"Radwa, how are you? Up early today, then?"

In all likelihood, the entire household knew she was lazy—no, wait; not just the household, but the street and the whole neighborhood knew it too. She returned the genuine smile; Laila was the person she was closest to in this house.

Laila possessed a lively, playful personality much like her own and was incredibly kind-hearted—the exact opposite of her brother.

Sometimes, she wondered how Laila—the epitome of a well-mannered, virtuous young woman—could possibly be the sister of that rude, obnoxious Nader.

"Seriously, guys? Is my reputation really that bad? How embarrassing is this?"

She finished her sentence while fiddling with strands of her hair and lowering her head in a mock display of embarrassment. Laila laughed, lifting the other girl's chin with her hands and saying teasingly: "Oh, look at you, acting all shy.

So, are we going to get used to this every day, or is this just a one-time thing?

" She tucked her hands into the pockets of her casual summer joggers and shrugged playfully

: "Wish me luck."

"Oh, I almost forgot—I finished the novel I borrowed from you two days ago. It was amazing; I want another one!" T

he other girl narrowed her eyes in astonishment

: "Seriously? That fast? That’s a long novel—*Anta Li* is the longest one I’ve ever read; it took *me* a whole month to finish it!"

"Honestly, I loved it; I was absolutely hooked on it. Do you have anything else?"

She bowed her head in thought, considering a novel that would suit the other girl's taste from her library—which was packed with all kinds of books and novels.

Suddenly, she remembered something; her eyes widened, and she shot the other girl a scorching, reprimanding look

: "You’re in big trouble! Your exams are just days away—have you forgotten?"

"Oh, Riri, come on! I’ve been buried in those books since the start of the year; I’ve memorized them inside out. Can’t I just unwind a little from the stress and misery of studying?"

She shook her head in a firm refusal, speaking in a sharp, non-negotiable tone

: "No means no. Once your exams are over, you can practically live in my library if you want—but right now? Absolutely not, Laila. Do you want to fail and have Aunt Madiha string me up?"

Laila raised her hands to silence her, saying with a hint of exasperation

: "Alright, alright—just hush. If Deeha hears you right now, she’ll string both of us up."

There was only a year’s difference between them, yet Radwa always played the role of the older sister.

Despite the negligible age gap, she viewed Laila as her own daughter and treated her accordingly—constantly urging her to study and offering guidance.

Surprisingly, Laila adored her; she would yield to whatever Radwa said, heed her advice, and act upon it, embodying the proverb

: "He who is older than you by a day knows more than you by a year."

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