Chapter _ 1 Episode _ 3 "Samih and Naomi are in a new life that seems hidden and has not yet become clear"

Samah stood in front of the mirror in his room, dressed in his new black suit and polished black shoes. He carefully combed his hair and spritzed his favorite perfume, a scent he had always loved. A gentle smile played on his lips as he softly hummed a tune, preparing himself for an extraordinary day. Every movement reflected a mix of excitement and anticipation, his eyes sparkling with a quiet joy that barely concealed the flutter of his heart.

At that moment, Naomi stepped out of her room. A lingering sadness weighed on her chest, yet she couldn’t resist the curiosity to watch her father.

**Naomi:** "Looks like you have an important appointment today."

Samah smiled broadly, full of pride and enthusiasm. **Samah:** "Of course… a very important one. Today is your father’s wedding, Naomi."

Naomi fell silent, her gaze fixed on the floor, words failing to capture her conflicted feelings. Then she lifted her eyes toward Samah cautiously:

**Naomi:** "But… Mom’s old room… it needed a refresh."

**Samah:** "Don’t worry… Ghada has a new apartment, and we’ll live there together."

The words hung in the air, but Naomi’s sadness remained visible on her face. She whispered softly: **Naomi:** "And me…?"

Samah stepped closer, his gaze filled with tenderness. **Samah:** "Are you trying to tell me something, Naomi?"

**Naomi:** "No, Dad… just… congratulations."

Finally, Samah smiled, whispering: **Samah:** "Yes… you finally said it."

He leaned in and placed a warm kiss on her forehead, then walked toward the door. Opening it, he stepped out with confident strides, leaving Naomi behind, surrounded by walls heavy with memories of the past, the sorrows of today, and the hardships of yesterday that still haunted her soul.

Naomi walked slowly toward her room, as if her feet were weighed down by the weight of memories. She stared at the emptiness before her, feeling the void left by her father after the loss of her mother. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the worn pages of her past, pages that had exhausted her spirit and would not easily fade from her memory.

….. 

The days passed for Naomi, one after another, inside the silent walls of the house, each day mirroring the one before. The delicate threads of routine wove through her life, yet she struggled to fill the void that consumed her spirit. She would go out to the markets, carefully selecting the household necessities, then return to sit alone, waiting for something and bidding farewell to something lost within the folds of memories.

In the pages of her recollections, Samah had become a distant shadow to Naomi, while her focus now lingered on the new presence, Ghada, the new bride, whose beauty seemed to have captured her father’s heart and filled the home with a new presence.

Even after a full month and a day, Samah decided it was time to visit his only daughter to check on her. At that moment, Naomi was sitting at the dining table, picking molokhia leaves with precision, appearing as a mature woman far beyond her years, bearing responsibilities she had never chosen.

She heard the doorbell and hesitated, her steps toward the entrance weighted with anxiety and fear. She stood behind the door for a moment, her voice hoarse and trembling:

Naomi: “Who is it?”

Samah, from behind the door, trying to hide his emotions with a calm tone: “It’s me… Daddy, Naomi.”

Naomi quickly opened the door, a small smile appearing on her face as if life had returned to her once more.

Samah stepped forward and embraced her tightly, and Naomi reciprocated with equal warmth and joy. They entered together and closed the door behind them, then sat at the dining table, facing each other, as if the world had stopped around them for a brief moment.

Samah began to express how much he had missed her:

Samah: “I missed you so much, Naomi… and I missed your cooking.”

Naomi smiled faintly, recalling how the new bride had disrupted her father’s days:

Naomi: “You missed me after thirty-one days… I guess the new bride distracted you and made you forget your daughter.”

Samah chuckled lightly, trying to ease the weight of the moment:

Samah: “Forget my only daughter? Impossible… What could I do? Ghada insisted I not leave the house until the honeymoon ended… and as soon as it finished… I’d be back immediately.”

Naomi could not hide her sadness:

Naomi: “So, you’re going to live with her and leave me alone?”

Samah: “Yes… but I’ll come see you every week to make sure you’re okay. And you’ll surely love and be loved, and maybe even marry… you won’t stay like this forever.”

Trying to channel her sadness into care, Naomi said:

Naomi: “I’ll make you some tea.”

Samah: “No… I have to go now… Ghada is alone and afraid.”

Naomi: “She’s alone and afraid? What about me? I live alone all the time, surrounded by these walls.”

Samah stood, took some money from his pocket, and placed it on the table, then kissed her forehead:

Samah: “Don’t worry, my dear… I’ll leave now and come back next week.”

He walked toward the door, opened it, and stepped out, closing it behind him, leaving Naomi between memories of the past, the worries of today, and the shadows of an uncertain future.

Naomi sat at the table, staring at the door, sorrow weighing heavily on her heart after realizing the new reality she must accept for her father’s happiness. Samah’s words echoed in the room:

"And you will surely love and be loved, and maybe even marry… you won’t stay like this forever."

The phrase repeated in her mind several times, as if it held a hidden key—a single solution that could rescue her from her situation.

She rose slowly, her steps heavy, and walked toward her room. She opened the door, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, dreaming of the prince of her dreams who would one day knock on the door to bring love and freedom into her life. She pulled the winter blanket over her body and closed her eyes, imagining a brighter tomorrow, envisioning the first rays of sunlight breaking through, illuminating the darkness of her days.

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