Zahra sat staring out of the window, her mind adrift in a sea of worries. The rhythmic clatter of the bus was a faint backdrop to her racing thoughts. Her eyes, usually bright and lively, were now clouded with concern.
"Do you have Facebook?" The question came from the woman seated next to her, jolting Zahra from her reverie.
"No," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leyla, a stranger with a kind face, leaned in closer, her eyes soft with empathy. "What about Viber?" she asked again, her voice gentle yet insistent.
Zahra shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "No," she repeated, the word heavy with exhaustion.
Leyla's expression shifted, concern etching deeper lines across her brow. "My husband... he's been missing for three days," she confessed, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion.
Zahra turned to face Leyla, her own heart aching in response to the woman's plight. Leyla continued, "He has Alzheimer's. I forgot to lock the door that day. I was hoping... maybe someone has seen him." Her voice cracked with a fragile hope.
"I'm so sorry," Zahra murmured, a deep empathy resonating in her chest.
Leyla fumbled with her phone, her hands trembling as she continued, "The police called. They found a body at the terminal. I'm on my way to identify... to see if it's him."
The weight of her words hung in the air, pressing down on both women.
Leyla's phone rang, its shrill tone startling in the quiet bus. Her face blanched as she answered, raising a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, tears spilling over her cheeks.
Zahra's heart clenched with dread as she watched, understanding without words the magnitude of what had just happened.
Zahra reached out, her hand finding Leyla's in a gesture of silent solidarity. They sat together, united in their shared sorrow, as the city continued to pulse around them, indifferent yet ever-present.
