"Sometimes… the road to truth begins with a small lie."
Not long after the staged trial, Samer came home with Moayad, Dalal's cousin's son. They arrived tense, carrying papers, newspaper clippings, and printed reports from the internet.
Samer spread the documents on the table and said, placing them before Dalal:
"Listen… everything's arranged. The soldier's release was quick. Billy Mark walked out of court smiling. Less than a day later, he was on a plane to America."
Moayad added, quietly:
"This is no coincidence. They clearly wanted him gone fast, out of sight. But we saw. We recorded every detail — name, face, where he went."
Dalal stared at the photograph: a man with a cold expression, eyes that seemed to carry more than a false innocence. Her chest burned with a single thought: If he leaves… I must follow him.
From that seed the idea grew. At first she didn't dare speak it aloud. Hour by hour it swelled until silence was no longer bearable.
One night, under the pale moonlight that washed the old courtyard walls, Dalal sat with Nadia and said quietly:
"Nadia… do you remember the visa your uncle promised you?"
Nadia smiled, puzzled:
"Yes… but what does that have to do with all this?"
Dalal took a deep breath and went on:
"Maybe it's the key. If you left — or rather, if I left in your name…"
Nadia froze, eyes wide with disbelief:
"Are you joking?! How could you travel as me?"
Dalal moved closer and gripped her hand with fierce resolve:
"We never had our IDs or passports checked closely. People mix up our faces all the time. If I take your passport, no one will know. This is my only chance to reach Mark. I have to face him. I must hear the truth from his mouth."
Nadia's words faltered, fear and reason colliding:
"But… it's so dangerous! What if you're discovered?"
At that moment Samer — who had overheard parts of the plan — came in and spoke with steady firmness:
"I'm with Dalal. The plan is risky but well thought out. If anyone can pull it off, it's Dalal. One of us has to reach the truth. We'll cover for her."
Nadia fell silent, her heart swinging between terror and the faith Dalal exuded. She knew one thing clearly: since Bahaa's death, Dalal had changed. She had become a fire seeking a path to burn.
That night the idea ceased to be merely a notion. It became a plan woven in secrecy: a passport, a visa, and the fragile hope that travel might lead to a confrontation no one had dared imagine.