"Between an evening that whispers of a wedding and a morning that carries a coffin — the distance between joy and loss collapses."
Nadia sat before the mirror, her heart suspended on a single thread — waiting for a message from Dalal. Dalal had promised to tell her what her father would say to Bahaa that night — whether he would agree to let her become Bahaa's fiancée now that the exams were over and Bahaa had kept his word:
"After the exams, I'll come to your house and ask properly."
Nadia waited to hear the words she longed for — to see Dalal walk in, smiling, and say:
"My father agreed. The wedding is soon."
But Dalal never came. Outside, the city was boiling. The chants of protest grew louder, stones struck soldiers' shields, and gunfire echoed through the alleys. Yet Nadia's heart was tuned to one sound only — Bahaa's voice.
Then, through the noise, she heard ululations — the high-pitched cries of women — rising from the street. She smiled instinctively. It must be the good news, she thought. Maybe Dalal's father had agreed, maybe the celebration had begun. Her heart raced ahead of her steps, imagining music, henna, and laughter.
She rushed toward the courtyard, calling out:
"Dalal! Dalal, where are you?"
The sounds were strange — ululations mixed with cries she couldn't quite understand. Moments later, Dalal appeared — her face pale, her eyes red from tears.
"What's happening?" Nadia asked breathlessly. "Why are there so many women crying and cheering? Did your father agree? Did he say yes?"
Dalal broke down, her voice trembling. She took Nadia in her arms and whispered:
"Bahaa, Nadia… Bahaa—"
"What about him? Tell me!"
"Bahaa saw another bride."
Nadia froze. She pushed Dalal away, her face twisting in disbelief.
"Another bride? What are you saying? When? Who is she? Where is Bahaa? Tell me, Dalal!"
Dalal's tears spilled faster.
"When? Just an hour ago. Who? A bride from paradise. Where? On his friends' shoulders, wrapped in the flag of Palestine. They're carrying him now… to his wedding in heaven. He left you, Nadia — he left us all."
Nadia didn't scream at first. She simply stood there, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. Then a single cry tore from her throat before the world went dark and she collapsed.
She had waited for news of love — but what came instead was the announcement of martyrdom.
In the blink of an eye, the promise turned to grief, the wedding to a funeral, and Bethlehem's soil drank once more from the blood of its sons.
That day, the little wooden hut of their childhood became a place of silence — its walls echoing only with the sound of stones striking the pavement and the name Bahaa — now a sorrowful song carried on every lip in Bethlehem.