"Sometimes, the opportunity you've waited your whole life for arrives suddenly… but never as you imagined it."
Dalaal was sitting in her small dorm room when the email notification arrived.
The sender's name was familiar: Samir.Karam91.
She opened it quickly, her pulse racing as she read the words flashing before her eyes:
"Get ready. Billy Mark is coming to Montreal. He's been invited by the Middle East Studies Club to give a lecture on 'Conflicts in the Middle East.' Details soon."
Her body trembled. The name that had haunted her nightmares was now within reach — closer than ever before. She reread the message again and again, as if to confirm that it wasn't some cruel dream.
A few days later, the university walls were covered with large posters:
"Special Lecture: The Middle East Between War and Peace – featuring military expert Billy Mark."
The sight struck her like a slap.
The man who killed Baha'a — now a "peace expert"? Speaking about understanding and dialogue?
She sat in the crowded auditorium among hundreds of students, her heart pounding so violently she feared it might betray her. Then he entered — tall, in his forties, wearing a tailored suit and the kind of confidence that only comes from practiced deceit.
When he began speaking about "the suffering of the region" and "the importance of coexistence," Dalaal felt each word pierce her like a bullet. She clenched her pen tightly and whispered under her breath:
"My moment will come… no matter how long it takes."
When the lecture ended and Mark walked out surrounded by students and reporters, Dalaal followed him at a distance. She trailed him through the university gates, across the snow-covered streets, until she saw him enter a downtown hotel.
Hiding behind a glass column, she slipped her hand into her bag — her fingers brushed against something cold she had hidden carefully for weeks. She took a deep breath and began to move closer.
But suddenly, a police patrol stopped near the hotel entrance.
A young officer approached her for a routine check, glancing quickly inside her bag before waving her off with a polite smile.
At that exact moment, Mark passed right in front of her.
He looked at her — a brief, uncertain glance — as if her face stirred some distant memory.
Then he disappeared behind the hotel doors with his security detail.
Dalaal froze.
Just one more step… and everything could have ended — one way or another.
That night, back in her room, she collapsed on the bed, her pulse still racing.
Her heart screamed into the darkness:
"Baha'a… I was so close. But not yet. Not tonight. The real confrontation is still waiting."