The gray dawn barely brushed against the palace walls, laying a veil of mist over the suffocating silence of the corridors. Nahia and Amaya walked slowly, suitcases clutched to them, their footsteps echoing in the beat of their own hearts. Amira, just behind, kept her face impassive, but the tension in her jaw betrayed a deep, silent pain.
In front of the palace's massive doors, Amira stopped abruptly. From her djellaba, she pulled out a crumpled envelope and handed it to Nahia with a trembling hand.
— "Promise me…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Promise me you'll only open it once you're on the plane. Not before."
Nahia took the envelope, her throat tight. She lifted her eyes to Amira's and found an immense sadness in them. Amaya looked away, a muffled sob shaking her shoulders.
In a hesitant gesture, Nahia took a small worn phone from her pocket and held it out to Amira.
— "I… I wanted to give this back to you," she murmured, unable to meet her gaze.
But Amira shook her head gently. A faint smile lit her tired face.
— "Keep it. So you can write to me. Just a message when you arrive in Venice. I want to know you're safe. Even a single word."
Silence fell again. In the distance, the faint hum of an engine disturbed the dawn.
Nahia rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out another sealed envelope.
— "Give this to Yasmina… but tomorrow. Not before."
Amira took the envelope with care, as if it were a treasure. She pressed it to her heart.
The driver's car waited discreetly in the morning mist.
Amira opened her arms. Amaya fell into them, broken, clutching the djellaba's fabric like a child torn from a cocoon.
Then it was Nahia's turn. Their embrace was quieter, heavier — like a silent pact. Amira slipped a hand into her hair and whispered:
— "You're much stronger than you think. And I… I will remain here. One way or another."
Nahia breathed slowly, fighting back tears.
The great gate opened. Dawn poured in.
The two sisters got into the car. Amira placed a trembling hand against the window.
— "Call me. Please…"
The car drove off, swallowing the road. Behind them, Amira stood still, alone at the threshold of the silent palace, as if part of herself was leaving with them.
---
The taxi stopped gently in front of the airport. Still pearled with dew, its body seemed suspended in that fragile moment between night and day. The shy sun cast its pale light over the terminal's glass windows.
Nahia got out first. She gave one last look behind her.
No more palace.
No more Amira.
Only an empty road.
Amaya joined her in silence. No words. No need. Everything had already been said — or left unsaid.
The airport was waking slowly. A few travelers, cleaning staff, rare announcements. They passed through security without trouble. Nahia kept the envelope in her inner pocket, feeling it beat against her like a living secret.
They sat in a quiet corner of the boarding hall, facing the wide windows overlooking the runways. Outside, the sky was pale, still. Comforting.
Nahia let her head fall back. Memories came in flashes: Amira in a doorway, a laugh in the kitchen, a hand held tight in a storm.
And Assad.
Their last night. A glance. No promise.
And yet, he was still there. Always.
A silent tear slid down her temple.
Amaya looked away, her eyes red but dry, as if crying would have emptied her completely.
Two hours later, the soft voice of the loudspeakers pulled them from their silence:
— "Immediate boarding for the flight to Milan, gate 3."
Nahia breathed in, stood up, and felt a part of herself detach, forever frozen on that cold seat.
They walked to the gate. To the unknown. To Venice.
---
The engines' rumble wrapped the plane like a cocoon. Twenty minutes had passed since takeoff. Through the porthole, a clear blue sky slid slowly by.
Nahia held the envelope in her hands. Amaya watched her silently, eyes still moist.
— "Are you going to open it?" she murmured.
Nahia nodded.
With delicate fingers, she lifted the flap.
A bank card. And a letter.
She slowly unfolded the paper, breathing in the ink like the scent of a farewell.
Amaya rested her head gently on her shoulder.
Nahia read aloud.
---
My dear Nahia,
My dear Amaya,
If you are reading these words, it means you are finally on your way to your new life.
I write this with a heavy heart, but filled with pride.
At the palace, you worked tirelessly. You never asked me for anything. Yet you would have been right to. You gave me your time, your kindness, your light. You brightened my days with a warmth I thought I had lost forever.
In this envelope, you will find a bank card. It contains not only your salaries, but also all my savings. Thirty years of service put aside "just in case." Today, that 'case'… is you.
I have no husband, no children. My husband died long ago, and I never found the strength to love again. I simply waited for time to pass… until you.
Thank you. For everything.
I love you as if you were my own daughters. Use this money for your dreams, your studies, your desires — or even to buy silly things.
The card is in Nahia's name. The code is 4729. It's an Italian Visa card, valid everywhere. If needed, the number on the back is there. And I have written down an email address to help you in case of trouble.
Keep it safe.
And above all… never forget that I love you.
I am here. Always.
With all my love,
Amira
---
Nahia stayed still for a moment.
Amaya was crying silently against her.
— "She never told us all that…" she whispered.
— "She's been thinking it from the start," Nahia replied, holding the letter to her chest. "She didn't need to say it."
A tender silence wrapped them, lost between sky and clouds.
They were leaving a life behind.
But they were no longer alone.
They carried with them a quiet… but immense love.
And somewhere out there, Italy was waiting for them.
But as they drifted away from the clouds, Nahia felt their greatest journey would not be a geographical one… but an inner one. And that Italy was not an end… but a beginning.