Arash sat in the corner, his eyes fixed on the door. The room was sparse, with only a few pieces of furniture scattered around, each draped in shadows. Leila, his mother, was seated on a chair, her hands resting in her lap, eyes filled with unspoken worry.
"Do you think he'll try to come today?" Arash asked, his voice sharp and filled with disdain.
"He only wants to help, Arash," Leila replied gently, though her voice trembled slightly.
Kaveh took a deep breath, feeling the weight of guilt pressing on his shoulders. He knew his presence was unwelcome, but he couldn't shake the hope that maybe today would be different.
"I just want to see her," he muttered to himself, clutching a bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.
"He thinks he can just come and go as he pleases," Arash spat, pacing the floor restlessly.
Leila watched him, her heart aching. "Arash, please, for your own peace, try to forgive," she pleaded softly.
"Forgive? After everything he did to us?" Arash stopped, his eyes blazing with a mix of pain and fury.
The memory was vivid, the shouting, the anger, the helplessness all rushing back. Arash remembered the coldness of the police station, the humiliation of being treated like a criminal. His father's betrayal was a wound that had never healed.
Kaveh waited, hoping for a sign, any sign, that he could somehow reach his son. He knew he was far from perfect, but he couldn't give up on Arash.
"Maybe tomorrow," he whispered to himself, turning away reluctantly, the flowers left forgotten on the doorstep.
"You are stronger than this anger, Arash," she said, her voice filled with quiet strength.
Arash looked at her, the hardness in his eyes softening just a little. He nodded, the fight within him waning, if only for a moment. Perhaps tomorrow, things could begin to change.
