Scene1:
It was already eight at night. A dim light spread through the room, and the silence felt as though everything were drowning in deep sorrow. Nosherwan sat on the sofa, slowly smoking a cigarette. The clouds of smoke drifting in the air reflected the state of his heart.
Nosherwan (to himself): Why, after all? When will this sadness leave her? I want to pull her out of this grief… but perhaps she doesn't even care about me.
Light coming from different directions was casting reflections on the walls. He stood up and slowly walked toward the photograph hanging on the wall. In the picture, a young woman was smiling, as if time itself had been trapped in that smile.
Nosherwan (in a choked voice): Aizal… I may have everything, yet today I feel your absence more intensely than ever. You used to say, "Aban is just like me…" and saying that he was like me was a matter of pride for you. If you were here today, perhaps I wouldn't care about anyone… you would have taken care of everything.
He kept staring at the picture. His eyes grew moist, and the doors of memories began to open.
He stepped into the past.
Nosherwan entered the room. In front of the mirror stood a beautiful girl wearing a brown sari. The light coming from the window fell on her face, making her beauty shine even more.
Nosherwan (smiling): Aizal, mashallah… whenever you wear this outfit, my tongue slips into calling you beautiful.
Aizal turned around, and a soft smile appeared on her lips.
Aizal: Nosherwan, you still haven't gone to the office?
Nosherwan: Tell me, could I ever leave without seeing you?
He lovingly brushed her hair aside. Aizal's face reflected both shyness and happiness.
Aizal: May Allah protect you.
Nosherwan: We'll go to the party this evening. Be ready.
Aizal (hesitantly): There will be many news reporters there—lights, cameras… I don't like all that, you know.
Nosherwan (smiling gently): People may have many things to show off, and perhaps they're very valuable too… but I have only one thing, and it is priceless — and that is you.
A sparkle appeared in Aizal's eyes.
Aizal: Your words make my heart bloom. If my going increases your honor, then I agree.
They both smiled at each other, as if all the world's sorrows had vanished in those moments.
Back to the present.
Nosherwan (returning to the present, in a soft voice): Aizal… Aizal…
He closed his eyes, but he was still standing in front of the picture. That name lingered on his lips, and countless memories filled his heart.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Maid: May I come in, sir?
Nosherwan said, startled, "Come in."
The maid entered and quietly placed coffee on the table, then softly closed the door and left.
Nosherwan slowly moved toward the coffee, but his hand stopped before reaching the cup. He looked at the picture again, as if there was a question in his heart that only that picture could answer.
Nosherwan (to himself): If you were alive today, perhaps Aban wouldn't be so broken… and neither would I feel so helpless.
He went back to the sofa, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and took a sip of coffee. But even the bitterness of the coffee couldn't lessen the bitterness in his heart.
Silence filled the room, but within that silence echoed memories, the fragrance of love, and a sorrow that refused to fade with time.
Scene2:
Maryam sat curled up on the chair, her legs drawn close to her chest. Her eyes were lost somewhere in the void, but in her mind only one scene kept replaying — the accident. Even now, the noise of that crash echoed in her ears, as if that moment had been frozen in some corner of time.
She was badly shaken. A road that was always crowded with reckless traffic, and she felt as if the whole world was spinning around her. In that moment, it seemed as though the impact of the accident had fallen only on her, as if the universe had chosen her alone for this trial.
Her breathing was uneven, her hands were trembling, and her heart was pounding so hard it felt as though it might tear through her chest.
Suddenly, she remembered the moment when Abaan silently placed his coat over her shoulders. There was a strange sense of protection in that touch, as if someone had supported her breaking courage. Her heartbeat grew even faster, but now it was not just fear — an unfamiliar feeling had also joined it.
Maryam took a deep breath and closed her eyes, but the memories refused to leave her. She knew that this accident had not only happened on the road — it had also left its mark on a corner of her heart. Those moments kept returning to her again and again. This accident was just like the one in the past that had taken her father and younger brother in its grip. Her eyes had filled with tears.
Scene 3:
Abaan was pacing restlessly around the room, as if some unknown worry had taken hold of his heart and mind. There was no stillness in his steps, and a fog of confusion clouded his eyes.
He kept recalling the moment when he had put on gloves and held Maryam's hand, leading her away from the accident site. Gradually, the noise of traffic had fallen behind them, and the chaos of the road had turned into silence.
Suddenly, Maryam had pulled her hand away.
Maryam (bitterly): Who are you? And why do you want to help me?
Abaan looked at her, a strange seriousness in his eyes.
Abaan: What is that child to you? He doesn't even know who you are… then why did you help him?
There was something in his tone, as if a hidden truth was peeking through.
Maryam smiled faintly, but her smile held sarcasm.
Maryam: Oh… ha…! So you felt pity for me?
Aban looked at her for a few moments, then said softly:
Abaan: I don't know…
A strong wind began to blow. Maryam's eyes rested on Abaan in surprise, as if many questions were arising in her mind at once.
Now Abaan was pacing restlessly in his room with the same thoughts.
Abaan (to himself): Why was it like that? Was it just pity? No… maybe it wasn't.
He was thinking all this when suddenly he hurriedly pulled aside the silk curtains and opened the window, as if he were starting to feel suffocated. A cold gust of air ran through his body, sending a shiver through him. His hair flew in the wind, but he stood there, as if unable to escape himself.
At that very moment, Maryam got up from the chair and came near the window. She began taking deep breaths, as if running from some unseen fear. The wind affected her too, but the restlessness in her heart refused to subside.
Abaan: I can't stop myself… maybe my heart no longer has room for these things. In the end, whose son am I? Perhaps I've forgotten.
Scene 4
It was ten in the morning. Abaan's gaze settled on the clock. He was rocking back and forth on his office chair, the fingers of one hand resting on his lips, lost in deep thought. The second hand of the clock on the wall kept moving, as if time itself were mocking the restlessness in his heart.
To his left, his secretary Shameer stood quietly, watching him closely—sometimes looking at Abaan, sometimes at the clock—as if waiting for a decision.
Shameer (softly): Sir, what's wrong? Is everything… okay?
Abaan (without looking away): I want to see something… maybe.
Shameer silently sent a message on his tablet and stayed where he was.
After a while, two workers entered the office carrying a large LCD mounted on a stand.
Both together: Good morning, sir!
They set the LCD in front of Abaan and stepped aside.
Shameer moved forward.
Shameer: Sir, tell me—what kind of movie would you like to watch?
Abaan suddenly picked up a glass of water and stood up, as if some reality had jolted him awake.
Shameer (in one breath): Comedy? Action? Cartoon? Or… I think you might want to watch a romantic movie?
Hearing this, Abaan started coughing while drinking water.
Shameer (excitedly): No problem, sir! I know some really good romantic movies—like What Will I Do After You, You Are Only Mine, You Are in My Heart, Will You Marry Me? and so on!
He kept counting on his fingers without stopping.
Abaan (in shock): What?!
He looked around.
Abaan: I don't want to watch any of this! Take it away!
He gestured for the LCD to be removed.
Shameer (quickly): Sorry, sir! Take it away!
The workers immediately carried the LCD out.
Abaan began pacing restlessly around the office.
Abaan: I couldn't sleep properly last night… I just kept thinking about all this.
Shameer (thinking to himself): These rich people—once they set their eyes on something, they don't find peace until they get it.
Thinking this, he sent another message from the table.
A little while later, a man entered the office and placed a magazine in front of Abaan, filled with designs of extremely stylish men's clothing.
Abaan: What is this now?
He pointed at the man and asked Shameer.
Shameer: Sir, he's your dress designer. These designs were recently modeled in England. If you like something, let me know; otherwise, I'll show you more.
Abaan (holding back anger): Take all of this away.
Then he suddenly stopped.
Abaan: You, stay!
He pointed at Shameer.
Abaan: We should go out to eat somewhere.
Shameer (surprised): Oh! You were going to eat with me? You should have told me earlier!
Abaan (muttering): Am I going crazy…
Shameer started walking ahead.
Abaan: No, wait!
He suddenly turned.
Abaan: Wear this.
He took off his coat and handed it to Shameer.
Abaan: I'll drive the car myself.
He moved forward, messing up his hair, as if trying to hide his identity.
Shameer (muttering): What on earth has happened to him?
Then, aloud, running after Abaan: Sir! This is too long!
Abaan: For now, you're my boss and I'm your secretary…
he said this after walking some distance.
Secretary Shameer: Got it, absolutely—don't worry. Come, follow me.
He quickly started walking ahead of Abaan.
Abaan smiled sarcastically.
Scene 5
"Is this Idris? Finally, we found him!"
Maryam said happily to Afra, who was looking around.
They were both standing in a narrow alley, with rows of houses on both sides. Maryam's eyes were fixed on a two-story house.
Afra (smiling): Ooo! At last, we found the one we've been searching for since morning!
She kept looking at Maryam and then at the house. Maryam gathered her courage and rang the doorbell. At the same time, Afra's heart started beating faster, as if the waiting was about to end.
A few moments later, the door opened. A girl of about fifteen years was standing there.
Maryam and Afra together: Hello!
The girl, standing at the door, asked, "Yes, what can I help you with?"
Maryam took out a picture of a woman and showed it to the girl, saying, "Does this woman live here?"
The girl looked at the picture carefully.
From inside, a woman's voice came: "Who is it, dear?"
The girl took the picture and went inside.
After a while, she returned and opened the door, saying, "Please come in."
Maryam and Afra entered, looking around. A woman was sitting on the sofa. After greeting them, she gestured for them to sit.
Woman: Who are you, and what is your relationship with her?
Afra replied with slight nervousness, "I am her daughter… she is my mother. And this is my friend Maryam. We found out that she used to live here."
Woman (in surprise): Are you really her daughter?
Maryam quickly asked, "Do you know her?"
The woman sighed. "Yes, she used to live here, but she left this place a few years ago."
Afra (restlessly): But where did she go? Do you know anything?
The woman shook her head. "No, I don't know. But if you want to find her, not here… go where money has no value. Sorry, maybe she has become very rich. That's all."
The woman kept staring at both of them.
After saying this, she fell silent.
Afra stood up from the sofa and said, "Come on, Maryam, let's go."
They both headed outside.
Maryam: Thank you.
Saying this, they stepped out of the door. Maryam turned back once more. Her eyes stopped on a billboard on the wall, which had an advertisement for skin treatment.
Afra was walking slowly.
Maryam: Wait… for me!
Afra: That woman seemed crazy to me, as if she was more bother
ed than us about why we were looking for her… she said this while walking.
Maryam: Hmm! Maryam signaled seriousness with her expression.
Scene6:
It was twelve noon. Secretary Shameer was sitting on a chair in the restaurant, watching Abaan intently. Abaan, seated across from him, was scanning the surroundings, as if searching for someone or lost in thought.
Shameer (to himself): I don't know what has happened to him. He has seemed different since this morning. I agree the world can change overnight, but he… he can't change like this. It's impossible.
While thinking all this, he kept looking at Abaan. After a while, he broke the silence.
Shameer: Sir, I think we've eaten far too much.
He gestured toward the table, which was covered with all kinds of food. Some plates were empty, while others were still full.
Shameer (without pausing): Why did you order so much food when you didn't even intend to eat? Now even my stomach is overly full!
Abaan stood up and walked straight over to Ms. Zarmeena, who was standing near the kitchen waiting for customers' orders.
Abaan: You shouldn't have let her go. Now look, you have to handle all the work yourself.
He spoke to Ms. Zarmeena in a slightly confused manner.
Ms. Zarmeena (gently): No, she had some urgent work, that's why she left. But honestly, that girl is very good.
Abaan: Did she say when she would be back? I mean, there are more customers in the evening. Will you manage? I'm ready to help.
He said this while glancing at his watch.
Ms. Zarmeena (smiling): I don't know…
At that moment, a voice came from behind.
Shameer: Sir… sir, let's go.
Abaan took out his debit card, handed it to Shameer, and said: Pay and come.
Saying this, he walked out of the restaurant.
"If today you were the secretary, you should have done this too," Secretary Shameer muttered under his breath.
At the same time, Maryam was coming from the opposite direction. She was wearing a cap. Some of her hair was tied back, and some was loose, fluttering with the gentle breeze. The redness of her lips and cheeks gave the feeling of cool air. Her steps moved on their own toward Abaan.
But she ignored him and walked past, as if his presence made no difference at all.
Abaan stopped when he saw her. He turned back, but she had already gone far ahead.
Shameer stood between them, watching the scene. Maryam had entered the restaurant.
A faint smile appeared on Abaan's lips, as if he had come there at that very moment only to see her.
Scene 7
It was five in the evening. Abaan had reached home. Before today, he had never returned from the office before six, but today the signs of anger were clearly visible on his face.
He went straight to Naima, who was sitting on the sofa in front of him, busy with her phone. There was a faint smile on her lips, as if she had no idea about the storm that was about to come.
Abaan (angrily): What do you actually want? With whose permission did you have my mother's pictures taken down?
Naima (laughing): Oh, relax! I'm the one surrounded by enemies on all sides, and you've already found out. What really happened anyway? Come on, at least this way you finally broke your silence with me.
She stood up from the sofa and walked toward Abaan with a smile.
Abaan (bitterly): Do you think you can take her place? No… never.
Hearing this, Naima's face turned red with anger, but the very next moment she burst out laughing.
Naima (sarcastically): What did she even do? Just gave birth to the heir of the Mehr family, that's all! The only difference between her and me is that she was Nosherwan's wife… and I am.
Abaan (sternly): Enough!
He said this and turned to leave.
Naima (to provoke further): She couldn't even become a good mother—how could she ever be a good wife!
Abaan suddenly stopped.
Abaan (furiously): Enough… enough! Who told you she wasn't a good mother? You cannot speak about her like that!
Pointing toward an expensive but useless dustbin placed near the window glass, he said:
Abaan: Your own place is just like that dustbin — expensive, yes, but meant only for trash!
Saying this, he walked away.
Naima was trembling with anger. She didn't know what to do.
Naima (to herself): What does he even think of himself? His silence used to eat me alive, and today when he finally spoke, he snatched my peace away too!
Hey you, come here!
She called out to the maid standing at some distance, dressed in uniform. The maid ran over immediately.
Naima: Quickly put those pictures back in their place.
Maid (seriously): But madam, their frames haven't been fixed yet.
Naima (irritated): Forget it. To hell with it. I just felt like removing those pictures, nothing more.
Saying this, she walked toward her room.
Scene8:
It was eight o'clock at night. Wrapped in a blanket, Maryam sat by her bedroom window, lost in deep thought. A cold gust of wind sent a shiver through her body, so she slowly closed the window. Then she picked up her phone, dialed a number with trembling hands, and put it to her ear.
"Hello… who's speaking?"
On the other end was the same woman's voice she had met at her house that morning.
"Is this Nazish speaking?" Maryam asked seriously.
"Yes, it is. How can I help you?" Nazish replied in a formal tone.
"I'm sorry, I saw your number written outside the parlor and took it from there. I'm Maryam — we met this morning. I just… wanted to ask how much you know about that… that woman?" Maryam said, brushing her hair back, as if struggling to gather her words.
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Nazish spoke in a slightly sharper tone, "I already told you — she used to live here, and now she's gone. I don't know anything else."
"Why does it feel like you wanted to know her too, just like us? Otherwise, why would you invite a stranger into your home for no reason? You could've said all this at the door — you had the chance," Maryam said, gathering her courage.
"That's not true!" Nazish said firmly and seemed about to hang up, but for some reason she stopped.
"Why did you say that she—" Maryam hadn't even finished when Nazish cut her off.
"Do you have time for a broken woman like me?" she asked in a choked voice.
"Yes… of course. Who could understand pain better than me?" Maryam replied gently and sat down on a chair. In front of her on the table lay an old diary, like a silent witness to the past.
"I asked you for time myself…" Nazish's voice carried a strange heaviness.
Then it was as if a dam in her heart burst.
"I thought that if someone had come looking for that woman, then maybe I had some connection to her too. I don't know why you people are searching for her, but the truth is, she really did live here. And where she is now… I once was — the queen of a grand mansion. Every wish of mine was fulfilled before I could even voice it. Everyone obeyed every rule I made. But more than anything, the thing I was most proud of… was my love."
She paused for a moment, as if the words were stuck in her throat.
"That love… before which all my rules became meaningless. A person who has wealth, comfort, and love — the world becomes heaven for them. But the woman who ruined my heaven was that same woman. She worked in my husband's office… and from there she made my husband her own."
Nazish's voice began to tremble. "I don't know what happened that I was thrown out of my home along with my child. I'm surprised why you people are searching for her. What is your relationship with her? Because she had claimed that she had no one in this world…"
"What?" It felt as though the ground had slipped from beneath Maryam's feet. Her heart began to pound loudly.
"I thought that by telling all this, I might finally take my revenge… but my heart didn't allow it. Perhaps she said something in her defense…" Nazish said with a faint smile, though pain was hidden in it. "Anyway… maybe my heart still beats. I will give you her address, but she is rarely at home. However, every year, like always, there is a function at Mehr Group where all the wealthy people attend — you can see her there… I will soon…"
"Perhaps she won't even recognize her own daughter…" she added softly, then fell silent.
Maryam slowly placed the phone on the table, but from the other side, the voice kept coming: "Hello… hello…"
Maryam had gone completely still, as if someone had shaken her inner world to its core. She kept repeating Nazish's words — that woman's name, her past,
and that relationship… whose secret was now slowly unfolding before her.
Scene 9
There was a deserted palace, lost in its own history. Its huge windows gave birth to fear and desolation. This was the very scene that often surrounded Abaan.
Abaan was lying on the bed, tossing and turning. His face was shining with sweat because of fear. His heart was beating uncontrollably.
Suddenly, he slowly began to move toward that magnificent yet terrifying door, through whose cracks light was entering the palace. He kept trying with all his strength to open the door, but failed. Tired, he stepped back—and in front of him stood a girl.
Her hair was disheveled. She was wearing a shalwar kameez, and her dupatta was even larger than her body—half on her head and the rest slipping down. Her hair was soft like silk, and from her walk and posture, she appeared to be a young girl.
That girl easily opened the door which Abaan had failed to open. But the light was so intense that Abaan could not see her face clearly. He just kept watching that blurred figure standing there.
Suddenly, the girl ran away without looking back…
"I told you, didn't I? The dream was scary at first, then my breathing became normal. I've never had such a dream before. Who was she? I didn't even see her… but after yesterday, I slept well. You're listening, right?"
Abaan was sitting in his office, narrating his dream on the phone.
Zarmeena: I'm listening very carefully.
She was busy at work in the restaurant while talking on the phone. She glanced at the clock—it was ten in the morning.
Zarmeena: I think that girl was just like you. Maybe her soul came into your dream. Forget these things; don't think too much. Everything will be fine. Perhaps your real life has shaken you.
At that moment, Maryam placed the order list in front of Miss Zarmeena.
Maryam: Miss Zarmeena, please prepare this order for that table.
Abaan had his Bluetooth on and was working on his laptop, but as soon as he heard Maryam's voice on the phone, he suddenly froze. He became completely lost in that voice.
On the phone, the continuous "Hello, hello" could be heard, but Abaan wasn't listening. After a few moments, the call disconnected.
Abaan (to himself): What is happening to me? Just hearing her voice makes my heartbeat race. My heart longs to see her. It feels like a disease that perhaps has no cure.
On one side, dreams like this have started coming that feel like reality… when does it ever happen in a dream that you see someone you don't even know, yet they appear before you?
Abaan sat in his chair, lost in these thoughts.
Scene 10
Maryam was sitting in the restaurant, lost in her thoughts. At that time, there was only one customer in the restaurant, sitting quite far away. Miss Zarmeena placed a plate of kebabs in front of Maryam.
Miss Zarmeena: What's wrong? Is everything okay?
She sat on the chair in front of Maryam.
Maryam (while eating kebabs): Miss Zarmeena, if a woman hides her past from someone… meaning she says she was never married, even though she has a daughter… then should her daughter meet her again or not?
Miss Zarmeena (smiling): What kind of question is this? I don't quite understand. The answer will come with time—what must have happened in her past that she had to do all this. But perhaps the daughter meeting her again would not be right.
Hearing this, Maryam became sad.
At that moment, the restaurant door opened.
Abaan: Hello!
Maryam turned her eyes and looked. Her gaze seemed to freeze on Abaan. In the sunlight, Abaan's face was glowing. Whenever he came to the restaurant, all the customers' attention turned toward him, but the truth was that no one knew how rich he really was.
He slowly walked toward Maryam and Zarmeena.
Abaan (smiling): I didn't think our meetings would happen every time.
He said this while looking at Maryam.
Maryam lifted her brown lashes shining in the sunlight and opened her mouth in surprise.
Zarmeena: Oh, son, sit down.
She gestured toward Abaan. Abaan sat on the chair directly across from Maryam.
Zarmeena: I'll bring something for you.
She walked toward the kitchen.
Meanwhile, four boys' voices came from behind.
"Hey look, isn't this the same girl who deals with customers? I didn't know she was like this. Every day some new guy must be sitting in front of her."
All four boys laughed and pointed toward Maryam. In shabby clothes, they were coming from behind Abaan.
Maryam couldn't control her anger. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up.
Abaan was watching Maryam. Before she could speak, he extended his leg, causing one of the boys, who was talking, to fall flat on his face on the ground.
Abaan (calmly): While walking, one should also look down, instead of looking around. Who knows when we might fall.
Saying this, he stood up from his chair.
Abaan (gently, adjusting his coat): Oh, sorry! My leg came in the way.
He moved toward Miss Zarmeena. The remaining three boys stood there in shock.
Maryam was also surprised. She slightly raised her eyebrows.
Maryam slowly started walking toward Abaan.
Maryam (to herself): Are you the same one? He was exactly like this when I saw him for the first time. His way of speaking… as if he were the most capable person in the world. I want to find you… maybe.
Lost in these thoughts, Maryam kept moving forward, but Abaan, with long strides, walked out.
Abaan (to himself): Your face looks good in innocence, but even better in anger. You're starting to seem different from everyone else… yet your simplicity is captivating.
What is happening to me? Is this feeling even better than before? Today, even the moving air feels like music…
He smiled and walked slowly down the road.
It was seven in the evening.
Scene 11:
Afra:
Maryam, where are you? I brought carrot halwa for you!
Afra quickly placed the plate on the kitchen shelf and kept calling Maryam throughout the house.
Afra:
Where are you, Maryam?
A voice came from the bathroom.
Maryam:
I'm taking a shower!
Afra:
Okay, I'll make hot tea for you.
Saying this, Afra went into the kitchen.
After some time, she finished in the kitchen and went to close the window, from where cold air was coming in. Suddenly, the message tone rang on Maryam's mobile lying on the table in front of the sofa. Afra closed the window and sat on the sofa. Then another message arrived.
Meanwhile, Maryam was drying her hair with a towel and pacing in her room.
Afra (sarcastically):
Well! Someone is messaging her… and she has even blocked the mobile company numbers!
She smiled while picking up the phone.
Afra:
Maryam, on your phone—
She stopped mid-sentence.
Afra (in surprise):
Whose address is this?
She touched the screen and the full message appeared, which contained Afra's mother's complete address. She became confused, as if she couldn't understand whose address it was.
Maryam (coming out of the bathroom):
What happened, Afra? Were you saying something?
A towel was around her neck, her hair wet and messy.
Afra:
Whose address is this?
She said suspiciously while holding the phone toward Maryam.
Maryam:
What? That…!
Before Maryam could finish, Afra interrupted:
Afra:
Is this someone's home address?
Maryam (flustered):
This… yes, that… I asked for a customer's address, maybe that's it.
Saying this, she quickly took the phone from Afra's hand, as if trying to hide something.
Afra:
Who asks for a customer's address like that?
She sat on the sofa, pulling both legs up.
Maryam:
Well, that customer is very special.
(Changing the topic)
Did you find your mother's address?
Afra (sadly):
No… I'm searching a lot, hoping I'll find it. I pray she's in this same city.
Maryam (smiling):
Oh! As always, you make tea while I'm showering and warm the room when I come out!
She kept talking while pouring tea into cups.
Maryam:
Then we'll drink tea together… oh, my best friend!
Saying this, she handed Afra a cup of tea.
For some time, they both kept talking and laughing.
Meanwhile, Abaan was sitting in his room, leaning against the bed, talking through a mobile app that, as always, was answering all his questions.
Abaan:
Hello, R-Bar! So tell me, what is happening in my life that I don't understand? I've started liking her. I like seeing her, even sitting silently in front of her feels good. Before, I was afraid of sleeping because useless dreams would disturb me, now I want to dream. Who knows, maybe her face will appear before my eyes…
R-Bar:
Are you talking about a girl? Often it happens that in such a feeling, we forget to eat and sleep. This is called love.
Aban smiled slightly.
Abaan:
Yes… but now I've started liking food too. I didn't like bean soup before, now even that tastes good.
R-Bar:
I think you are falling in love.
Abaan:
Love? What is that? I don't know.
He said, looking at the phone.
R-Bar:
In love, you forget yourself. Only that person holds meaning in your life…
It kept speaking without pause.
Abaan rested his head on the bed, his face toward the ceiling.
Abaan (in his heart):
So I have fallen in love after all… and perhaps it happened that very day.
Oh love! Now that you are mine, why should I deny you?
You have ruined me — but when was I ever refined?
Scene 12
"Oh! It was so hard to find you today!"
A young boy entered the villa's room holding a bag in his hand. The walls were adorned with colorful paintings, as if each frame were bringing a silent story to life. The air was filled with the scent of paint and spray.
"Welcome to anyone who values my truth."
The voice belonged to a person already present in the room. He wore a cap on his head and a mask on his face. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was painting on a large canvas with a spray can. Without turning around, he replied, as if lost in his own world.
"Were you somewhere else?"
the young boy asked, placing the bag on the table.
"Yes!"
He paused his hand and handed the mask to the boy.
"Put this on. The smell is very strong."
As the boy took the mask and looked into his eyes, the man said in a soft yet deep voice:
"Look… this feeling is just like this painting—beautiful, yet provocative. People are drawn to it, captivated by its charm, until it surrounds them completely."
Saying this, he threw the empty spray bottle into the dustbin.
"But…"
He paused for a moment, then looking at the canvas, continued,
"The true beauty of this painting and its spreading fragrance eventually reveal the truth."
Soft rays of sunlight were falling on both of them through the window. The view outside was beautiful—the blue sky, the gentle breeze, and the touch of light bathing the room in a golden glow. It was as if nature itself was silently witnessing the moment.
The young boy took a deep breath and said softly,
"Perhaps that's why every one of your paintings touches the heart."
A silence fell over the room—a silence where emotions spoke louder than words.