{Back to Reality}
Mary's eyes flew open. She found herself in her room…cold, still, as if nothing had happened.
She moved slowly, slipped off her shoes, and crawled under the blanket, her heart still boiling with emotions too big for her small world.
Then a soft voice broke the silence:
Where do you go every night?
She turned her head. Sawsan was lying on her bed, one eye half-open, curiosity gleaming faintly in it.
Mary hesitated, then smiled faintly, as if holding a secret more precious than words:
Under the tree… just watching the stars.
Sawsan closed her eyes again, as if unconvinced, but didn't press further.
Mary stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, a quiet smile on her lips, feeling as though she had stepped out of a beautiful novel… not just a fleeting game.
And deep in her chest, a silent promise pulsed:
This isn't the end… only the beginning of other stories waiting for me.
***********
The following morning… everyone gathered around Mazen.
His voice was steady, yet in his eyes, there was a flicker of worry he couldn't hide:
"It's been a while since we had an adventure…
I'm sure the system is preparing something big.
We need to be ready… grow stronger… stand as one."
Low murmurs, heavy breaths, faces pale as though life had drained from them… but in the background, something else was moving quietly.
Sawsan leaned closer to Moayyad, her voice barely above a whisper:
"Mary… she's been sneaking out every night.
I don't know where she goes… but she slips away into the darkness."
Moayyad froze, his eyes widening:
"Are you sure?!"
She nodded, jealousy and a sharp, biting curiosity swirling in her gaze.
His footsteps were heavy as he approached Mary, who sat by the window, her back slightly hunched, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She hadn't expected him to come closer… yet her heart began to race, fast and uneven.
He sat beside her, a small space separating them, but it felt like an iron wall. This time, his eyes weren't gentle… they were clouded with suspicion and accusation.
"Tell me… where do you go every night?"
Mary lifted her eyes slowly, a sad smile tugging at her lips despite the ache inside:
"I'm sure Sawsan already told you…"
Moayyad's tone was sharp, every word like a stab:
"So it's true? Where do you go?
Are you connected to the game? What are you hiding?!"
Mary's hands trembled, her breath came unevenly, she shook her head quickly, her voice raspy:
"No… never.
I just… I can't sleep… I go out to watch the moon… to calm my heart a little."
A heavy silence settled between them. He neither believed nor denied her words. Breathing slowly, his eyes still scanned her face as if she were a dark riddle:
"You won't confess…
But remember this… I'll keep watching you."
He rose and left, his footsteps echoing harshly down the corridor.
Mary watched his back as it faded away, her heart shrinking as though being crushed in his hands. The air grew colder, her breath caught in her throat.
She whispered to herself, tears heavy in her eyes:
"How can my heart love someone who never truly sees me… but wounds me with doubt every time?"
Mary looked down at the ground… for the first time, she felt as if this place rejected her, alien to her, as though she were an intruder who didn't belong here.
But it didn't end there…
Moayyad moved closer to Mazen, whispering short words to him, his voice low yet edged like a hidden blade cutting through the silence.
Mazen lifted his gaze toward Mary…
A heavy stare, weighed down with suspicion, filled with unspoken questions and unvoiced accusations.
Mary felt it all….the air thickened, her heart shrank until it was no more than a speck.
Her head lowered on its own, as if she carried sins she had never committed, as if she were guilty in a courtroom without a judge, without justice.
In that moment… she understood the bitter truth:
Even here, in this cursed world…
she would remain alone, with no one to believe her, no hand to hold when she fell.
But Moayyad…
he was different.
Every night,
he sat by the window, his eyes sharp as arrows, unblinking,
watching… tracing every movement.
Would Mary sneak out again?
Was she hiding a secret?
Was she playing another game besides theirs?
And yet, every night,
Mary lay fast asleep, as if her body had finally stolen a brief truce from pain.
Until…
On a still night, the moon tilted halfway, and the air carried a sharp chill…
he saw her move.
Mary rose slowly, her steps cautious, her breaths barely audible.
She opened the door with ghostly silence and walked toward the forest…
as if drifting through a distant dream.
Moayyad snatched his jacket, turning to leave, but a voice stopped him:
"Where are you going?"
Mustafa stood behind him, an eyebrow raised in question.
"Shh, Mary went out… I need to know where she goes."
"Leave her be, Moayyad… maybe she's just running from something that's none of our business."
But Moayyad didn't back down, a strange determination burning in his eyes, like a hunter chasing a secret he refused to let escape. After a tense moment, Mustafa followed him.
In the forest, beneath an ancient tree, Mary sat.
Her head tilted toward the sky, her eyes searching the stars as though waiting for a sign…
a light only she could see.
They approached quietly, watching from a distance.
In that moment, Mary was there… yet not truly there.
Her body sat beneath the tree, but her soul was trapped elsewhere, lost in a longing they could never understand.
"What's she doing?" Mustafa whispered.
"Could she be waiting for someone?" Moayyad muttered sharply under his breath.
Mustafa, his voice calm, replied:
"Or maybe… she's just running from her loneliness, breathing a little under this sky."
Moayyad stayed silent, his words caught in his throat.
He stared at her for a long time, yet the suspicion in his chest was too heavy to fade.
Minutes later, Mary yawned, stood up quietly, and walked back to her room, dragging her feet as if returning from another world.
Moayyad turned, placing a hand on Mustafa's shoulder, muttering with a cold, faint smile:
"Nothing happened tonight… but that doesn't mean I'll give up."
A dark glint flickered in his eyes, as if a shadow of malice was quietly growing inside him.
Mustafa watched him, sighing deeply:
"Poor Mary…"
He lifted his gaze to the sky, searching for a comfort he couldn't find, then lay down in his bed, the echo of worry lingering in his chest until sleep finally claimed him.