Early the next morning, Yazan didn't know what was happening. He couldn't understand how he got out of his cell, or why the officer told him that the case files had suddenly disappeared and that an anonymous tip had overturned everything. Yazan walked out of the police station feeling as though time had frozen for a moment only his steps moved mechanically, while his mind raced with hundreds of questions.
The air outside felt heavier than the cell, and people looked at him as if he had actually committed a crime, then miraculously escaped it. He did not feel freedom, but a strange, bitter brokenness that crept slowly into his heart.
He took a taxi to go home; he hadn't told anyone he just wanted to return to something familiar, to a place with a bit of stability.
When he opened the door, he found his mother, Farida, standing in the center of the living room, her eyes full of tears. She rushed to him and hugged him tightly, as if to confirm to herself that he had returned alive.
She said with a hoarse voice: "I always knew you were innocent… I was certain you could never do something like that."
Yazan couldn't respond. He just stood silently, holding his mother, fighting the urge to collapse.
His father, Tarek, entered and looked at him long before saying in a calm but cryptic voice: "It's good that you're out… because there are things you must know."
Yazan sat on the couch, his mother by his side not letting go of his hand, while Zaid approached him, hesitated for a moment, then said: "Yazan… Karma… she got married."
Yazan's eyebrows rose he didn't understand: "Married?! How?!"
Zaid's voice was soft: "On the same wedding day that was supposed to be for both of you… and in the same hall."
Yazan's heart beat faster and his features froze: "What?! How?! And to whom?!"
Everyone fell silent, then Zaid said, looking at the floor: "Anas."
The name hit Yazan's ears like a bullet. He felt the air leave his lungs. He couldn't believe it. He tried to speak, to say anything, but his mouth stayed open without sound.
He slowly raised his head and said angrily: "What are you saying?! How could this be?! Tell me this is a lie."
No one answered. Silence remained… heavy, stifling, painful.
Yazan got up from his place, went into his room, and slammed the door behind him. He sat down on the floor, burying his face in his hands. He didn't cry, but his heart was crying… everything collapsed at once. Love. Friendship. Trust. Even his sense of himself was no longer the same.
Meanwhile, across the village, Anas's house felt completely different. The decorations had not yet been removed from the walls, and Karma sat on the couch wearing a nice pajama but she felt nothing beautiful.
Anas entered the room holding a box of fine chocolates and said with a smile: "I brought the kind you like."
She placed it on the table without looking at it, and replied coldly: "Thank you."
He got closer and sat next to her, saying in an artificially gentle tone: "I know you're uncomfortable right now… but believe me, with time you'll get used to this… and you'll realize I deserve you more than anyone else."
She didn't respond. She simply turned her gaze away from him, her heart boiling. She hated his presence, hated his voice, hated herself for letting him win.
On the other hand, he showed no annoyance at her coldness. Instead, he continued treating her with excessive kindness, as if living in a one‑sided fantasy. He knew she couldn't stand him, but he decided to wait… or rather, to master the art of taming her.
Suddenly, Karma approached him and said pleadingly: "Please, I just want to see Yazan, even if only once."
Anas's face darkened, and with trembling lips he said: "Don't mention his name in this house again, or I'll kill you where you stand."
Karma recoiled in terror at his tone, stepping back until she vanished from in front of him. She then entered her room and burst into tears.
In the evening, the sky was overcast. Yazan sat in the backyard, smoking a quiet cigarette, while Zaid came up behind him silently and sat beside him.
Zaid said in a gentle tone: "Are you okay?"
Yazan didn't answer at first. Then he exhaled smoke and said: "I'm okay… maybe better than expected."
Zaid was silent for a moment, then said: "I know you're not okay, but you always wear that strong mask…"
Yazan gave a faint smile, then looked up at the sky and said: "You know, Zaid? I've long wanted to escape from here… from the countryside, from farming, from all this… I always dreamed of building a company, working in engineering, living a different life."
Zaid looked at him attentively and asked: "And will you really do that?"
Yazan nodded and said with confidence for the first time in days: "Yes. The time has come. I'm going to the city, and I'll start again, away from everyone. What happened made me see the world for what it truly is. I've lost a lot… and I don't intend to lose more."
Zaid patted his shoulder and said: "I'm sure you'll succeed… and no matter how far you go, you'll always be my big brother."
Yazan smiled, stood up, and went in to start packing his bag.
The next morning, the train station was quiet, and the weather was cloudy as if nature shared his silent grief.
Yazan stood on the platform, holding a medium-size bag, wearing a simple black jacket, his eyes wandering over the train tracks stretching to the horizon.
There was no farewell. He didn't want anyone to see him off. He just wanted to go.
The train arrived, the sound of its brakes filling the place. He climbed on board quietly, found a seat by the window, and sat. He looked outside, at the village he both loved and hated at once.
The train started moving slowly… then gained speed… and everything behind it began to shrink.
He thought to himself: "Here the road begins… and the past, finally, is behind me."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if preparing for a beginning whose outcome he didn't know.
To be continued…