Ayman sat alone in his room, the hum of the city faint in the distance. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment. His mind raced, thoughts of the unknown future intertwining with the weight of what he was leaving behind. He had made up his mind—it was time to leave, to escape the life that had consumed him, to seek something better, even if it meant plunging into uncertainty.
A soft knock at the door startled him. It was his mother, her voice gentle and filled with a mother's unyielding warmth.
"Come, Ayman. Marwa has made a cake. She says it's her best one yet. We're making tea. Why don't you join us for a while? It'll be nice."
Her attempt at lightheartedness was clear, her words laced with an undercurrent of concern. Ayman hesitated, glancing toward the door.
"Maybe later, Mama," he replied, his voice low and distant.
She lingered for a moment, her sigh almost imperceptible, before retreating back to the others. Ayman heard the faint murmur of voices and laughter from the apartment above, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, letting the quiet envelop him once more.
Hours passed, the room growing colder with the night. Ayman remained still, lost in his thoughts, until his phone buzzed beside him. He glanced at the screen—Nadir's name flashed across it. The message was simple:
"Are you ready?"
Ayman stared at it for a moment before typing his reply:
"Yes."
Nadir's response came quickly:
"Let's meet at our spot. Everything is set. We leave tonight."
Ayman exhaled deeply, the finality of it sinking in. He stood, gathering his resolve. He grabbed a small, worn bag, carefully packing the few belongings he could take with him. A change of clothes, some cash, and the precious few mementos he couldn't bear to leave behind. He paused for a moment, his hand lingering on a family photo—the four of them together, smiling, before everything had changed. He hesitated, then tucked it carefully into the bag.
The room felt heavier now, the walls closing in as if they knew he was about to leave. He looked around one last time, his heart aching with a bittersweet mix of regret and determination.
"It's over," he muttered to himself, slinging the bag over his shoulder.
As he prepared to slip out, the sounds of life from upstairs continued—the faint laughter, the clinking of cups. Ayman froze for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to turn away. Nadir was waiting. Tonight, his life would change forever.
Ayman went quietly to the rooftop, his heart heavy. The dim moonlight bathed the city in silver, and the cool night air brushed against his face as he crouched near a wooden crate. Inside, his tiny kittens mewed softly, their small bodies curling together for warmth. He gently lifted the crate, cradling it against his chest.
He paused for a moment on the downstairs, looking down at the window of Karim's home. Through the glass, he saw them: his mother, Marwa, and Karim, sitting together. They were laughing, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the room. His mother was sharing a story about Karim's mischievous childhood—how he once got into trouble sneaking out for an adventure.
"You were a bit naughty when you were kid, thank god you are changed now." Marwa telling Karim how surprise she is from hearing those tales about him.
"Yes I was. I think I was a bit like Ayman" then Karim laughed with rest.
The laughter was soft and pure, a fleeting glimpse of the life Ayman had always longed to protect. His throat tightened as he watched them, tears forming in his eyes. He etched the image into his memory, knowing this was a moment he would carry with him forever—a memory of what he was leaving behind, what he could never return to.
He forced himself to look away, clutching the crate as he descended the narrow stairwell to the streets below. The weight of his decision bore down on him as he crossed the neighborhood, heading to a familiar door. He knocked softly, and Salma, a kind-hearted girl from the block, answered.
"Salma," Ayman said, his voice shaky, "Can you give this to Yasmin? These are my kittens. She's good with animals. Tell her I'll be gone for a few weeks, but I'll come back for them."
Salma looked at him with curious concern but nodded, taking the crate. "Of course, Ayman. But are you okay? You look—"
"I'm fine," he interrupted, forcing a smile. "Thank you."
As he turned to leave, he heard the faint mewing behind him. He stopped and turned back, seeing the kittens scrambling out of the crate, their tiny paws pattering on the ground as they followed him. Their small tails stood upright, their eyes wide with trust and affection.
"Go back," Ayman whispered, his voice breaking. "Go back to Salma. Stay with her."
The kittens continued to follow, their soft cries flying in the quiet night. Salma crouched, calling to them gently. "Come on, little ones, I have tuna for you. Come here."
But they didn't stop. To them, Ayman was everything—their protector, their world. He knelt down, tears streaming down his face as he gently pushed them back toward Salma. "Go, go back," he whispered. "I can't take you with me. I'll come back one day, I promise. You'll be big by then, and I hope… I hope you'll still remember me."
The kittens meowed again, as if protesting, their tiny faces full of innocence. Ayman stood abruptly, wiping his tears as he turned away, his footsteps growing heavier with each step.
Behind him, Salma scooped up the kittens, her soft reassurances mingling with their cries. But their little voices stayed with Ayman, haunting him as he walked into the shadows. For a moment, he felt as though they were the only beings in the world who truly saw him as someone important. And now, he had let them go.
Ayman walked through the dim streets, his thoughts swirling in chaos. The weight of his past life pressed heavily on his mind—his childhood in the slums, the endless grind of working in low income jobs, and the sight of his mother growing older, still struggling to keep the family afloat. The future loomed before him, bleak and unchanging.
"Is this it?" he thought bitterly. "Is this all my life will ever be? Breaking my back on construction sites for scraps, barely surviving, while everyone else moves ahead?" He clenched his fists, the frustration simmering within him.
He thought about his mother's tired hands, the sacrifices she had made to hold their family together. He thought about the empty promise of hard work in a world where opportunity seemed reserved for others. He needed more. He needed freedom. He needed money.
This wasn't a life—it was a slow death, one day at a time. That thought pushed him forward. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, not from doubt, but from the grim determination to break free. He couldn't stay stuck in this cycle. Not anymore.
When he finally arrived, Nadir was waiting, leaning casually against a lamppost, his face barely visible in the shadows. His expression brightened when he saw Ayman approaching.
"You're here," Nadir said, straightening up. "So, are you ready?"
Ayman nodded, his voice firm despite the storm in his heart. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."
They walked together to a quieter corner, where Ayman shared the details of the plan. "We're going to rob a house," he said, keeping his voice low. "It's an easy job. The guy is wealthy. He drives an expensive car, and I've seen him carrying a briefcase. He's definitely hiding something valuable in there."
Nadir's eyes widened with excitement. "A briefcase? Are you serious? This could be big!"
"Yeah," Ayman continued, his tone measured. "If we find money, we're out. We leave tonight. Straight to Italy. But listen carefully—if we don't find any cash, we leave everything as it is. We don't take anything. We can't risk it."
Nadir frowned slightly, his excitement tempered by Ayman's seriousness. "Are you sure about this? What about Farid? He'll come after us if he finds out."
Ayman shook his head. "Farid won't find out about it now. The cops are already looking for him after what happened in the attack we did few days ago. He'll probably end up in jail before he even realizes we're gone to Italy."
"But what if we're wrong?" Nadir pressed. "What if there's nothing there?"
"Then we leave," Ayman said firmly. "No money, no theft, no Italy. We'll stay low until the heat dies down. And I will report to Farid, my alanyse so he can do the robbery instead.But if we find something, it's our chance. We can't let it slip away."
Nadir studied Ayman's face for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I trust you. Let's do this."
The two exchanged a look of determination before heading toward the wealthy man's house. The weight of the night pressed down on them both, but Ayman clung to one thought: this was his chance to escape the life he had always hated. It had to work. Tonight, everything would change—or it wouldn't.
As they walked through the streets, their footsteps can be heard in the silence of the night. Ayman broke the silence, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. "You know, Nadir, I can't stay here anymore. This life, this... this constant struggle, it's killing me. I've been stuck in the same place, doing the same things, and it's like I'm going nowhere. I'm tired of it."
Nadir nodded, his face somber. "I get it, man. I feel the same. I've worked so many jobs—construction, factories, even that mechanic shop. My body's already breaking down, and I'm not even old. My brother? He's in Italy, living good. My cousins, too, all over Europe. They're making something of themselves. They keep telling me life there is different, better. And here... there's just nothing."
Ayman glanced at him, his expression softening. "You'll get there, Nadir. Your brother and cousins will help you. They know what it's like. But me? I don't have anyone there. I'll make my own path. We'll make it together."
Nadir smiled faintly, but his eyes held a glimmer of hope. "Still, I hope one day we'll be like your brother. He's respected here, man. Everyone talks about him. Even Farid—can you believe that? He respects your brother, and you know how much he hates cops. But he always says, 'Your brother is a good man, a real man.' That's something to admire."
Ayman's jaw tightened, his pace quickening. "My brother? Come on, Nadir, no. We'll be better than him. You hear me? Better. We won't just be respected—we'll be rich, powerful. Your brother will help us get started in Italy, and then we'll build something bigger than anything my brother ever had. He can stay here, be the hero cop everyone loves. Good for him."
He paused, his voice rising slightly with the heat of his emotions. "But do you know what it's like, Nadir? To always be compared to him? To never be good enough? Even Farid told me that too and to my face, 'Your brother is a respected cop.' Do you know how that feels? My own brother, always judging me, always looking down on me because I'm not like him. Well, you know what? Let him have his little kingdom here. I'm done trying to fit into a world that doesn't want me."
Ayman stopped for a moment, his eyes burning with conviction as he turned to Nadir. "We'll leave this place. We'll go to Italy. We'll get rich. And then, when we come back, they'll all see. They'll respect us. They'll respect me. Not because I'm someone's brother, but because I built something for myself."
Nadir watched him quietly for a moment before nodding. "You're right. We'll make it. Together."
The two of them continued walking, their determination growing with every step. They both knew tonight would change everything—for better or for worse. But for now, they clung to their shared dream of a life beyond the streets of Tunisia. A life where they could finally be free.
Ayman's mother carried a small plate of cake to his room, her footsteps soft against the floor. She knocked lightly on the door, waiting for a response, but there was none. She opened it slightly, peeking inside, but the room was empty. With a small sigh, she placed the plate on his desk and closed the door gently. Returning to the sitting room, she rejoined Karim and Marwa.
"He's not there," she said, settling into her seat.
Karim glanced up, his expression calm. "He's probably out with his friends or maybe he went to see Farid to settle everything so he can start working tomorrow."
"I hope so," she replied, a hint of worry in her voice. "I just want him to stay focused, work hard, and keep himself in line."
Marwa, her tone sharper than usual, interrupted, "Why would you put him in such a job? Couldn't you find him something better? If you'd asked around in my hometown, they could've found him a decent job, maybe in security or something stable."
Karim shook his head firmly, his voice carrying a mix of authority and conviction. "No, Marwa. Ayman has to learn. He has to know what it's like to struggle, to endure, to feel the weight of earning every meal he eats. This job will teach him discipline and resilience. It's important for his growth."
His mother nodded in agreement. "I have faith in him. Ayman is a good boy. He will succeed. This experience will make him stronger."
Karim leaned back, his tone softening. "I promise, after two or three months, if he does well, I'll get him something better. Something that pays well and suits him. But for now, he needs to understand the value of hard work and perseverance. It'll make him appreciate his future more."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Karim's words settling over them. Ayman's mother smiled faintly, a mix of hope and pride filling her expression. Marwa, though skeptical, said nothing further, her mind occupied with thoughts of Ayman's future.
Karim leaned forward, his voice softening as he turned to Marwa. "You know, Ayman is a good person. He has always been decent, with a kind heart. He takes care of everyone, even those tiny kittens up on the roof. He feeds them every day and looks after them like he's their parent. He really is a good soul."
Marwa nodded, her expression easing. "Yeah, I know. He's always been like that."
Karim sighed, a hint of regret in his tone. "I also want to apologize for his behavior yesterday. He said some bad words, and I promise it won't happen again. Don't worry about our son. He won't follow in the footsteps of a 'loser uncle.'"
Marwa shook her head gently. "It's okay, Karim. It's okay."
Karim's mother, sitting quietly nearby, looked saddened but spoke up with quiet conviction. "Ayman will be better than this, no matter what. He has a good heart, just like you, Karim. Don't worry about him."
Karim nodded in agreement, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You're right. You remember how he couldn't even hurt small animals? He's always been like that."
Marwa rolled her eyes playfully, raising a hand to stop him. "No, don't remind me of that flying cockroach! I don't even want to think about it."
The memory made Karim chuckle. "Oh, come on! You were screaming so much, and Ayman wouldn't let me kill it. He was like, 'No, no, don't kill it! Let's just push it outside!'"
Marwa couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculous scene. "I was losing my mind! That little thing jumped on me, and you two were just arguing about whether to kill it or not!"
Karim grinned. "I wanted to end it right there, but Ayman insisted. We ended up kicking it out of the house like some kind of unwanted guest."
Their laughter filled the room, the tension lifting as they shared the fond memory. Even Karim's mother smiled softly, her sadness replaced by a glimmer of pride.