Scene 1:
Maryam returned from work with wounded hands and exhausted steps. Her face was drained with fatigue, as if her body had no strength left. When she reached the door, she froze—it was already open.
"How did the door stay open?" she murmured in confusion, a strange uneasiness settling in her chest as she stepped inside.
As soon as she entered, a graceful woman in an elegant outfit appeared before her—her eyes radiated a mother's tenderness.
With a soft, heartwarming voice, the woman spoke: "Maryam, my child, you're here? I've been waiting for you. Come, wash up. I made your favorite apple juice."
It was as if time lost its grip on Maryam. Words escaped her lips: "Mama! I'm so hungry... I'm so tired... I want food made by your hands, Mama."
Her mother smiled gently: "That's why I told you to freshen up. I'll set the table."
Maryam moved toward her room. In the corner, a large sofa stood, and on it sat a man in a refined suit, reading a newspaper through his glasses. Maryam paused and softly called out:
"Baba...?"
After a few moments of silence, the man smiled and replied: "Maryam, you're home? Look, the newspaper says admissions are open for the Science College!"
Just then, a charming young boy entered the room—around 18 or 19, mischief dancing in his eyes and a radiant smile on his lips.
"Come on, Papa!" he laughed loudly.
"What will she do at a science college? If she becomes a doctor, even the patients who could survive will die!"
Everyone burst into laughter.
Her father chuckled and said:
"Stop it, Raheem! She's your elder sister."
"I know, Papa. She's my precious sister!" Raheem winked mischievously.
The house echoed with joy and laughter—a light, a wholeness, a perfect picture.
But the picture didn't last.
Maryam lingered in that happiness for a while and then walked to her room. She went into the washroom, freshened up, and stepped out—
But everything had changed.
The light had dimmed. The laughter was gone. That lively home was now buried within silent walls.
"Mama? Where are you? Baba…?"
Maryam peeked into every room.
"Raheem? Is this some joke? Is it my birthday today… then what kind of surprise is this?"
Her voice began to break, and tears rolled down her cheeks. The kitchen was just as she had left it in the morning. The sofa was empty. The newspaper—gone. The house was silent and abandoned.
Maryam stopped near the window.
"Where did they all go? My mother, my father, my brother Raheem..."
She got lost in those questions—until she jolted awake.
She was in her bed.
It had all been… a dream. A beautiful, deceiving dream. Maryam sat with tears in her eyes.
"I wish it had been real."
"I'm tired... hungry... and maybe even tired of life itself."
---
Scene 2:
The outer door creaked open slowly. A young girl, wearing a long jersey and carrying a few things in her hands, stepped cautiously inside. Her eyes were alert, her face shadowed with concern.
"How did the door stay open? Is Maryam home or already at work? …What if there's a thief inside?"
She muttered to herself.
As she walked toward the kitchen, her eyes landed on a mug.
"This mug... perfect!"
She smiled and picked it up—but the next moment, it slipped and shattered on the floor.
She froze. As if something might awaken from the sound. Then, with fearful steps, she walked toward Maryam's room.
She opened the door.
"Maryam? My sister, what happened? Did someone hurt you? A robber...?"
Maryam, who was sitting on the bed, eyes half-open as if just awakened from a dream, spoke slowly:
"A robber? Ifra, what are you saying?"
Ifra looked confused. "I thought… the house was silent, the door was open, no sounds... I thought something had gone wrong."
Maryam raised her eyes and, with a faint, broken smile, said: "And you broke my mug too... that was the only one I had. Do you even know how expensive things are these days?"
Ifra rolled her eyes playfully and replied, "Oh, sorry! I didn't bring a weapon. Just wanted something sharp—just in case I needed to defend myself!"
Maryam shook her head. "So you're turning into an assassin now?"
Ifra laughed innocently: "Okay okay, enough. Look, I brought something to eat!"
She extended a plastic bag toward Maryam.
Surprised, Maryam asked: "What's in it?"
"Dad brought jalebis last night, so I saved some for you."
Ifra replied gently while fixing the bed.
Maryam held the bag, paused for a moment, and whispered: "Thank you... honestly, I was starving. Thank you Mama, Baba... all of you..."
Ifra stopped. "What are you saying? I don't understand..."
Maryam shook her head and walked toward the kitchen. She opened the fridge—only a chilled water bottle was inside. She took out the jalebis and began eating them with cold water.
Ifra sat on the sofa. After a moment, she chuckled and said: "I think you need to find yourself a soulmate."
Maryam broke off a piece of jalebi, smiled sarcastically, and replied: "Soulmate?"
Then grew serious. "Anyway, forget it. I'm getting late. Gotta get to work."
---
Scene 3:
It was noon. The sun scorched above, and the dusty air made every breath feel like a burden. Maryam stepped into her workplace, face drenched in sweat, her eyes heavy with sleep and her body bearing the scars of daily labor.
At that moment, a middle-aged man wearing an engineering cap growled in front of her:
"Late again?"
His voice wasn't just annoyed—it was belittling.
"You do know how much pressure we're under? Only someone completely swallowed by desperation would pick this kind of job! We're already short on workers. Breaking rocks is still better than licking them, you know that?"
He turned and walked away.
Maryam stood still for a moment. Then suddenly, she ran after him.
"Mr. Raheem! Wait a second!"
Raheem turned back, irritated. "Now what is it?"
Catching her breath, Maryam asked innocently: "What did you mean when you said 'better to lick rocks than to break them'? Is that really a job? If yes, tell me. Maybe it pays, maybe it's easier..."
Raheem stared at her for a moment, then sneered: "Are you joking? It's a saying."
Then added in a low, blunt tone: "The truth is—us poor break the stones, and the rich... they lick them like salt."
Maryam smiled faintly, as if she had found a bitter truth hidden in the sarcasm.
"Well, we eat them too..."
With that, she walked away, carrying the lesson within her exhaustion, and quietly returned to her labor.
---
Scene 4:
An upscale restaurant in the city—lit with dazzling lights, filled with delightful aromas, echoing with laughter. At one corner table, five young men sat, their faces carefree, their words filled with jokes, their eyes full of dreams only the privileged can afford to dream.
Armaan, with curly hair and a cheerful smile, teased: "So Zaheer bhai, when's the wedding?"
Zaheer, proudly nodding, replied: "I've already fallen in love, already proposed... now only the wedding remains!"
Everyone laughed heartily.
But one boy—silent, withdrawn, distant—sat slightly apart. Dressed neatly in a tailored suit, his hair perfectly styled, but his face expressionless. As if he was present, yet not really there.
This was Abaan Mehr.
The sole heir of Mehr Chemical Industries.
Owner of several institutions and scientific departments.
A young man whose wealth astonished the world, but who remained lost in silence.
Zaheer looked toward him, "Abi yaar, you haven't eaten anything. What's wrong?"
Abaan quietly replied, "I'm not hungry. You all carry on."
He picked up his long coat and stood up.
Armaan shook his head, "Man, even with all that money, he drives himself. Sometimes even walks alone. Never laughs, never seems happy, and when love is mentioned, it's like someone mentioned an old wound instead of a memory."
Zaheer chuckled: "And the world is crazy about him... but he doesn't even glance at anyone!"
Armaan turned thoughtful, "Let's see... what kind of girl finds a boy like that? And when will he finally listen to the voice behind all that silence..."
Laughter filled the table once more, but Abaan Mehr had already stepped outside the restaurant.
City lights reflected in his eyes—
But those eyes were travelers of a different darkness.