The neighborhood stretched out like any typical middle-class community, with rows of houses lining both sides of the street. These homes varied in appearance, some more beautiful than others, as each person’s life unfolded according to their own unique circumstances.

Most of the houses were designed with flat roofs, though a few featured multi-story structures. Each home had a front courtyard enclosed by a low wall, and most had a gate that led to it. These courtyards were typically covered with concrete slabs, although one could spot the occasional gap where a slab had been removed, broken, or perhaps worn down over time.

In the middle section of the neighborhood, near the end of the street, a commotion drew attention. A crowd of people had gathered, their gazes fixed on a scene of chaos. Smoke rose into the air, indicating some sort of altercation taking place.

Amid the commotion, two young children, no older than ten, stood facing each other. They were not evenly matched in size, and it was evident that they had been engaged in a heated dispute. One girl, with long hair flowing down her back, was not wearing her hijab, which had been discarded during the quarrel.

“Iman… Iman… it’s the teacher!” panted a girl who had rushed over, her eyes wide with concern. She seemed to have hurried from another part of the neighborhood.

Iman heard the call and redoubled her efforts to settle the dispute before the teacher arrived. It was clear to her that as long as the fight remained unresolved, there would be trouble, and the teacher’s displeasure was something to avoid.

However, as she didn’t manage to defuse the situation in time, the teacher, a dignified man in his fifties wearing traditional white attire with a turban, intervened sternly. He carried a bag and a black plastic bag.

“Go home, all of you! I’ve said it once,” he declared in a stern tone, his gaze fixed on the children.

Iman reluctantly stepped back, her attempts to separate the fighting girls having been in vain. She had not had the chance to inquire about what had gone wrong, as the teacher promptly ushered the children away from the scene and distributed candies to them.

“Let’s head home, my dear,” he said kindly to Iman, gesturing for her to follow him. As they walked together, he continued offering words of comfort, reassuring her that everything would be alright. They approached the door of one of the houses in the row.

The house bore the signs of being used as a school, evident from the large shed with mats spread out. In front of the house, a mango tree stood, a source of blessings for the neighborhood, yielding abundant and delicious fruits.

Inside, the house featured two rooms on the right, a common area, and a master bedroom. The courtyard was spacious, housing a well with cold, refreshing water. The bathroom was a short distance from the kitchen, which was situated farther from the bedrooms. Cleanliness was highly regarded within the household.

As they entered the house, they found a woman sitting on a sofa in the spacious courtyard, dressed in a red gown.

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