POV Esther
We've just arrived in Palestine, and my parents' chalet is simply beautiful.
It's a large light-wood chalet, standing right in front of the beach. You can hear the sound of the waves as soon as you get out of the car. There's a big terrace with comfortable armchairs, a glass table, and plants everywhere. The sunlight illuminates the whole place, creating a warm, peaceful atmosphere… as if time slows down here.
We go inside.
Inside, it's even more beautiful.
The living room is spacious and tastefully decorated: light-colored walls, wooden touches, a large beige sofa, white curtains letting the light in. One entire wall is covered with photos of the four of us: Dad, Mom, Mina, and me.
Pictures from my childhood, trips, simple moments. My heart tightens a little.
I keep walking and open a door.
It's my bedroom.
The walls are painted a soft pink. A pretty bed stands in the middle with a beautiful blanket, a vanity near the window, and a small, well-organized desk. Everything is simple yet elegant.
It looks so much like my bedroom back home, and that reassures me.
At that moment, Dad and Mom enter behind me.
Mom:
— Do you like the room?
I nod with a big smile.
Me:
— Yes, I love it. It looks just like my room. How did you do that?
Dad smiles gently.
Dad:
— We made it this way because we knew that one day you would come here. We wanted you to feel at home.
My heart melts.
Me:
— Thank you… I love you so much.
I hug them both.
The rest of the day goes by happily, without any arguments. We laugh, we talk, we enjoy ourselves. It feels good.
---
The next morning
I open my eyes and look at my phone.
6:00 a.m.
So early.
Way too early… and yet, I never wake up this early, and I can't fall back asleep. I don't know why, but I feel like going out, visiting the city, seeing something different.
I get up, take a shower, and dress simply:
a black Nike t-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers.
I grab my Chanel bag and sling it over my shoulder, letting it fall to my hip.
When I'm ready, I sneak out quietly so I don't wake my parents or Mina. I don't inform the guards either. I go out the back and get into the taxi I had ordered.
— Downtown, please.
Once I arrive, I quickly get out, pay the driver, and start walking.
The city is already lively. The streets are full of people, shops are opening, markets are colorful. There are smells of spices, coffee, and warm bread. People talk loudly, laugh, live.
I feel good. Free.
I continue walking when suddenly I hear someone shout:
— Help! Please call an ambulance!
I rush toward the voice.
A crowd has gathered around a woman about forty years old. She's sitting on the ground, struggling to breathe. Beside her, a little girl of about six is crying uncontrollably. Another girl, probably sixteen, is holding the woman's head on her lap.
— Please call an ambulance… she can't breathe…
The scene breaks my heart.
I step forward and kneel beside the woman. I try to take her hand, but the older girl looks at me angrily.
Her:
— What are you doing? Are you a doctor?
Me:
— No, but I can try to help.
She looks at me as if I've said something stupid.
Her (coldly):
— There's no way you're touching my mother.
I take a deep breath.
Me:
— Listen, let me help you, I—
Her:
— No! I forbid you to touch my mother!
She doesn't get to finish because the little girl's sobs interrupt us.
The little girl:
— Lana… sniff… let her help Mom… please…
Lana looks at her little sister, moved. Then she looks back at me, hesitant.
Lana (weakly):
— Do… do you know what to do?
I nod. I tell the little girl not to worry, that her mother will be fine, and I gesture yes with my head.
No, I'm not a doctor, but I often go to the hospital with my mother, and I've observed her a lot.
I gently place my hand on the woman's chest. Her heart is beating very fast.
Me:
— Ma'am, listen to me. You need to calm down. Look at me.
I look up at Lana.
Me:
— Where is her inhaler?
Lana:
— We forgot it at home.
Great… that doesn't help.
Me:
— Okay. Ma'am, breathe calmly. Inhale slowly… exhale gently. Follow my rhythm.
She listens. Little by little, her breathing becomes more regular.
Me:
— It's better now, but we need to take her to the hospital and—
I don't have time to finish when a man steps in.
The man:
— You can take my car.
I stand up.
The man is in his forties, athletic-looking, elegant without trying too hard. His gaze is calm, reassuring. And without knowing why… he reminds me a little of my father. Maybe in his eyes.
Without hesitation, we help the woman up. With the man's help, we settle her into the car. The little girl stays glued to her.
Lana stops in front of me and, without thinking, hugs me.
— Thank you.
I gently pat her back. Then she joins her mother.
The car drives away.
The crowd disperses.
Only the man and I remain.
Me:
— Thank you, sir. Not many people would have done what you did.
He smiles, amused.
Him:
— What are you talking about? You did everything. I just helped at the end.
Me:
— Yes, it was my duty. My father always says that when you have the chance to help someone, you should never hesitate.
He looks at me intensely, as if my words bring back a memory.
Me:
— Sir, are you okay?
He slightly startles.
Him:
— Yes… yes. Are you a doctor?
I smile widely.
Me:
— No, my mother is a doctor. I like a bit of everything, even though she tells me to focus on one thing.
I don't listen.
I like cooking, dancing, technology, sewing, decorating, and—
I stop suddenly, embarrassed. I realize I've been talking too much again.
Me:
— Sorry… I talk too much.
He bursts out laughing.
Him:
— Don't apologize. You remind me of my best friend.
Me:
— Really?
Him:
— Yes… actually, wouldn't you happen to be the daughter of—
My phone rings, interrupting him.
It's Malik.
I apologize and step aside to answer, but the connection is bad. I hang up.
When I turn back… the man is gone.
— Damn…
At the same moment, I receive a message from Mina:
"Esther, come back immediately."
I sigh.
— I'm going to get scolded again…
I take a taxi and head back to the chalet.
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