"In Bethlehem, joy is never whole — it blooms when flags rise, and is bombed the moment the occupation sees them."
It was a bright summer morning in Bethlehem — the day everyone had been waiting for. Students and parents crowded in front of the school's notice board, hearts pounding as if they might burst.
Then came the flash of the moment: cheers erupted, ululations filled the air, tears of happiness flowed freely. Dalal had scored 97%, and Nadia — 98%. The neighborhood exploded in celebration: drums, songs, and laughter. The tawjihi results — the final high school exams — had been announced, and the city turned into one giant wedding.
Doors opened wide, trays of sweets passed from hand to hand, and colorful flags waved from rooftops. The courtyard was dressed for joy — chairs arranged neatly, plates of pastries, neighbors streaming in with congratulations.
Mothers handed out ka'ek stuffed with dates, fathers laughed with pride, and children ran between the houses waving tiny flags that glittered in the sunlight.
Dalal and Nadia stood side by side, glowing — two flowers that had bloomed together. And in the middle of it all, Bahaa's eyes searched constantly for Nadia, wanting to share with her a look that held both triumph and love.
He had sent her a message earlier that morning:
"I'm keeping my promise — tonight I'll speak to my father about us."
It was a moment neither of them would ever forget.
But the next day, the celebration turned to tension. The flags — those simple symbols of pride — had angered the soldiers. Bethlehem's joy began to darken, like winter clouds swallowing a clear sky.
One of the officers shouted in broken Arabic:
"No flags! No shouting! Disperse — now!"
And just like that, the moment shattered. The young men who had been dancing were suddenly pushed and beaten, the flags torn from their hands, trampled into the dust.
Bahaa couldn't stand it. He rushed forward, shouting:
"This is our flag! This is our joy! Get out of here!"
Ululations turned into screams, songs into chants of defiance. Within minutes, the same street that had been alive with celebration was now burning with protest.
Stones flew. Tear gas filled the air. And the sharp crack of bullets tore through the sound of joy — as if even happiness had become forbidden.