Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

The maid placed the final dish on the dining table, which looked almost excessively complete, more like an elaborate display of exquisite food than an ordinary dinner. Then she quietly withdrew without making a sound, leaving the room wrapped in a warm silence broken only by the soft rhythm of their breathing. Mazen sat at the head of the table, calmly lifting his fork with a piece of grilled meat on it before reaching toward his wife to feed her, as he often did between them. She leaned slightly toward him and took the bite with a small smile. Then, instead of letting go of his hand, she gently ran her fingers over it in a fleeting, affectionate touch, as though trying to hold on to this rare moment of peace between them. She seemed lighter today. Calmer in a way that was impossible to miss, as though something inside her had finally settled... Or so it seemed. Mazen slowly withdrew his hand, then leaned back against his chair, watching her with a hidden caution that had foll

Asia stepped out of the bathroom with slow, heavy footsteps, exhaustion weighing down every movement. In her arms, she carried a medium-sized box filled with shampoo bottles, perfumes, and a few small items she had hurriedly gathered from the bathroom shelves. Her hair was still slightly damp, a few strands clinging to the sides of her pale face as she made her way through the room, which had been completely transformed into organized chaos. Open suitcases. Cardboard boxes stacked on top of one another. Folded clothes waiting to find their place among the luggage. She nudged one of the boxes aside with the tip of her foot to clear a path, then bent down and placed what she was carrying on the floor. Meanwhile, Salma had returned the phone to the bed. She lifted her head and watched Asia silently for a few seconds. There was something thoughtful in her expression, as though she had been considering something for a while before finally deciding to say it. She spoke quietly. "A

Salma stood outside the door of Asia's aunt's apartment after getting the address from her mother. She knocked several times, but the worry that had been creeping into her chest ever since she arrived at the building was growing stronger. All the way there, she had tried to remain rational, giving herself dozens of harmless explanations that shouldn't have been cause for concern. Maybe Asia's phone had died. Maybe she had fallen asleep. Maybe she had gone out for something important. But her heart refused to believe any of it. She knew Asia too well. She knew her habits. She knew her reactions. The door finally opened, and her aunt greeted her while holding a small kitchen towel in one hand. She smiled when she saw her. "Welcome, Salma." Salma returned the greeting quickly, but her eyes were already moving ahead of her words, instinctively scanning the apartment. "Is Asia back?" The woman's thick eyebrows drew together, confusion appearing on her face. "Back from wher

The words didn't reach his ears as a passing suggestion he could simply ignore or postpone thinking about. Instead, they settled somewhere deep inside him, unsettling him in a way he hadn't expected. It was as though his mother had suddenly opened a door that had never existed in his calculations before. Over the past few days, he'd seen the entire situation as an accusation, a problem, and a headache he wanted nothing to do with. But the child himself... He had never truly allowed himself to give that thought any space in his mind. Fatma, however, seemed to be looking at the whole matter from an entirely different perspective. Her gaze lowered slightly, her eyes drifting toward some distant point. "Do you know how many times I've imagined there being a little child in this house?" She didn't wait for his answer. The words came quietly, as though she wasn't speaking only to him, but to herself as well. Her voice grew slightly louder as she continued. "How many times have

Asia sat in the plastic chair against the cold white wall, clutching her small handbag tightly to her chest with both arms. The waiting room was almost empty. A woman sat at the other end of the hall, staring at her phone, while a nurse passed by every now and then carrying a few files. Asia glanced at the clock hanging above the door for what felt like the hundredth time. Only a few minutes had passed. Yet they seemed much longer. Her lips had gone dry, so she unconsciously ran the tip of her tongue over them. Then her gaze dropped back to the floor. Then to the door. Then to her phone, which remained switched off inside her bag. She had hesitated to turn it on. Ever since she'd left home, she'd been trying not to think. Not about the consequences. Not about the possibilities. She was simply trying to keep moving. To carry out the decision she'd made. To get here. To get it over with. But now the road had ended. There was nothing left to distract her from her thou