Life had never spoiled Haytham.He wasn't one of those kids blessed with luxury or calm. No, he belonged to the miserable middle class — that awkward space where everything is just okay, but somehow still completely unbearable.
You know what I mean, right?Wake up. Brush your teeth (so we don't have to pay for your dentist later).Eat breakfast, if your dad isn't rushing off to work.If he is, you'll end up munching your sandwich just before class begins, while your classmates throw you that look — amused, judging.
And, of course, let's not forget the legendary Tiguan.No household in northern Morocco has escaped its presence. One way or another… that car was there.
Anyway — enough boring build-up. Let's move on to something more important.
June 12, 2025:
Haytham tried to smile. Forced it, even.He made sure his face looked cheerful, like a kid who enjoyed life.
But the truth? He'd already passed through the school gate's filter.(That's a metaphor, of course, but think about it: in every place — school, office, street — people change. They filter themselves to fit in.)
You see a guy surrounded by pretty office ladies? He's all charm and laughter.Same guy at a dusty grocery shop in a poor neighbourhood? He looks like he's being tortured in a sweat chamber.
Now imagine Haytham.Not with girls, and not with grocery shops.Just the sweat. Lots of sweat.He was social — too social, maybe—and constantly shocked by how disgusting and chaotic his classmates were.So much so, he eventually planted himself right in front of the teacher's desk.He preferred the hell of learning over the hell of his peers.
That day started with two periods of math.Depressing ones, unlike usual.Then came the scorching summer heat.Break. Then physics.Lunch. And finally… the cherry on top: two periods of biology.
When Haytham finally dragged himself home, he cursed whoever invented school.
The only comfort?It was Tuesday — a sacred day for him.
Why?
It meant watching six episodes of Detective Conan – Season 6.But… nothing good lasts forever.
Barely minutes into the first episode, his mom stormed in and snatched his iPad.
"Go hang the laundry, Haytham!"She called it a request, but it sure didn't sound like one.
"But I just sat down! It's been the worst—"
"Are you raising your voice at your mother? Ya Allah! I gave birth to a son who now disrespects his mother! Should I cry to your father or the kitchen, or to— just GO before I smash your head against the wall, you little—" (BEEP!)
Of course, our poor hero had no choice.He picked up the laundry basket, climbed six floors to the rooftop, and started working.When he finally finished, he sighed deeply.He came back down with the empty basket, only to be greeted by his mother again:
"Go to the store! We need groceries!"
On the way to the corner shop, the TV was on.The news showed Gaza — starving people, bombings,and death.
Haytham nearly threw up. Not from the images alone, but from something deeper.Something strange.
Something… no one saw.Not even him.
But forget that for now.Something new was happening.
A man entered the store, asking the shopkeeper to switch the channel from Al Jazeera to a local news station.
He did.
And then… Haytham froze.
His blood ran cold.
The TV screen showed a scene so horrifying, so personal, he almost passed out.
His father.Murdered.A knife in his neck.And hanging from the blade — a small piece of paper…
(to be continued...)