During the investigation of Ayman, Karim sat in the living room with his wife and mother, sipping tea and sharing laughter. The atmosphere was warm and light, a rare reprieve from the struggles of their daily lives. His mother smiled, her tired eyes glowing as she recounted old stories. Karim’s wife chimed in with jokes, and for a moment, everything felt normal.

Then Karim’s phone buzzed. Once, twice, three times. The persistent ringing shattered the calm, and everyone turned to look at him.

Karim frowned, seeing “Unknown Number” flash on the screen. His heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time this number had called him. He hesitated but eventually stood, muttering, “Excuse me for a moment.”

He walked out of the room, stepping onto the balcony for privacy. The cold evening air brushed against his face as he answered. “Hello? Who is this?”

A familiar voice crackled on the line. “It’s me, Anis.”

Karim’s brows furrowed. “Anis? Wait… Anis, the brother of Farid?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Anis replied hurriedly, his voice low and tense. “Listen, Farid sent Ayman to do a job. To steal from a house. But Ayman got caught. The cops have him now. He’s under arrest.”

Karim froze. The words didn’t make sense. “What the hell are you talking about? Ayman? Stealing? Are you out of your mind? What house?”

Anis didn’t answer. His tone changed, growing sharper, almost threatening. “Go get your brother. He’s in deep trouble. Fix this.” Then the line went dead.

“Wait, wait!” Karim shouted, but the call had already ended. He stared at his phone, his mind racing. He tried calling back, but the number didn’t connect. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair and dialed the only people who could help: his friends in the police force.

“Hello? It’s Karim. Can you check if my younger brother Ayman is under arrest? Please, it’s urgent. I heard he went to rob a house or something.

The officer on the other end paused. “Give me a moment.”

Karim paced the balcony, his thoughts spiraling. After a few agonizing minutes, the officer returned. “Yeah, it seems your brother is under investigation. He’s being held at the station on the north side. You used to work there, and yes, it’s for a house robbery.”

Karim’s chest tightened. “Are you sure? Ayman… a robbery? No, no, this can’t be true.”

“Look, that’s all I know,” the officer replied. “If you want more details, you’ll have to go there yourself.”

Karim hung up, his anger boiling over. What the hell have you done, Ayman?

He stormed back inside, grabbing his jacket. His wife and mother looked at him in surprise.

“Karim, what’s wrong?” his wife asked.

“I’ve got a work mission,” he said quickly, masking his frustration. “It’s urgent. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay, take care,” his mother called as he headed for the door.

Karim didn’t look back. He sprinted down the stairs, his mind racing with questions. He had to get to the station, to his brother, to figure out what had happened. Whatever Ayman had gotten himself into, Karim knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t let his brother face it alone.

Karim burst out of the apartment building, his feet pounding against the stairs as he descended two at a time. His thoughts raced as fast as his legs. What the hell is Ayman doing? Robbing a house? Working with Farid again? After everything we talked about?

By the time he reached the ground floor, his breathing was ragged, though not from exhaustion but from frustration. He pushed open the building’s main door and headed toward his car parked on the narrow street, a quiet neighborhood now rattled by his storming presence.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he slammed the door shut. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. His chest heaved as he tried to make sense of it all. Ayman had been on the verge of turning his life around, and now this.

The key rattled in his shaky hands as he shoved it into the ignition. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, closing his eyes. How could you do this, Ayman? He started the engine, its roar matching the turmoil in his chest.

Just as he was about to pull away, a voice called out behind him. “Mr. Karim! Mr. Karim!”

Karim turned to see Yasmin, a neighbor from down the street, running toward him. She was out of breath, her hair disheveled from a long day at work.

“What is it, Yasmin?” he asked, rolling down the window, impatient but not wanting to be rude.

“I just got back from work,” she said, panting. “And my sister—Salma, you know her—she told me that Ayman gave her his kittens. She said Ayman told her he’d be gone for a few weeks. Is he traveling somewhere? He didn’t even tell me goodbye!” Her voice broke slightly, her disappointment evident.

Karim stared at her, stunned. “What? His kittens? He gave them away? And he said he’s traveling?”

“Yes,” Yasmin replied, frowning. “That’s what my sister said. I haven’t seen him yet, so I thought I’d ask you. Is he going on vacation or something?”

Karim’s mind whirled. What in God’s name is going on? Ayman wouldn’t just give away his kittens. And traveling? No, that doesn’t make sense. He’s been here, hasn’t he?

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He shook his head quickly, trying to reassure her. “No, no, Yasmin, he’s not traveling. He’s probably just around the neighborhood. I’ll call him later and tell him to come back and take his kittens. Don’t worry, okay?”

Yasmin nodded hesitantly, her face still clouded with confusion. “Alright… but tell him I’m upset he didn’t say goodbye.”

“I will,” Karim muttered, already turning his attention back to the road.

As Yasmin stepped away, Karim hit the gas pedal, his frustration mounting. Ayman, what the hell are you doing? Giving away your kittens? Talking about traveling? And now you’re sitting in a police station because of a robbery?

The car sped through the dimly lit streets of Ettdhamen, past rows of whitewashed houses and olive trees. His destination: the nearby police station on the north side of the town, the old police station he worked in years ago. A place he never thought he’d visit for Ayman.

With every turn of the wheel, Karim’s anger boiled hotter, but beneath it all was something else: fear. Fear of what he’d find when he got there, fear of what his brother had truly gotten himself into.

Karim parked his car outside the police station, the building’s familiar facade stirring a wave of emotions. He stepped out, his face tight with frustration, disbelief, and a tinge of shame. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed as he adjusted his jacket and headed inside.

The moment Karim walked through the glass doors, the familiar smell of coffee and worn-out leather chairs greeted him. He paused for a second, taking it all in. This was where he had started his career years ago, before moving on to other assignments. Memories flooded his mind: long shifts, shared jokes with colleagues, and his first interrogation.

“Officer Karim! Is that you? Look who’s back!” a voice called out from the desk.

Karim turned to see Ahmed, one of his old colleagues, grinning at him. Several other officers glanced up, recognizing him immediately.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Karim!” Ahmed continued, walking over to greet him, then hugging him. “What brings you back here in such a rush? brother! It’s been, what, three years? How’s the family? How’s your wife? Your mom? Mrs. Fatma, how is she doing? And… oh, how’s Ayman?”

At the mention of his brother, Karim’s frustration resurfaced. “I heard Ayman is here, so where is he?” he asked sharply, skipping the pleasantries.

Ahmed blinked, surprised at Karim’s tone. “Wait… Ayman? Your younger brother is here? Oh…” He suddenly realized. “You mean the kid we brought in tonight? That’s your brother?”

Karim clenched his fists. “I don’t know what happened, but I need to see him. Now.”

Ahmed frowned and leaned closer. “Karim, are you telling me the boy we picked up was trying to rob a house? The one who’s been talking nonsense? Is your brother?”

Karim stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I don’t care what he said. Just tell me where he is. I will deal with him by myself.

Ahmed sighed. “Alright, alright. He’s in the investigation room. But, uh… there’s something you should know. The French embassy was involved. Actually, they are talking to him right now. Seems like the house belongs to some diplomat or something.”

Karim’s heart sank further. What the hell, Ayman? What have you gotten yourself into?

Ahmed gestured to one of the officers near the desk. “Hey, go tell the team in the investigation room that Karim’s here for the boy. And he will be free when the embassy men are out.”

A few moments later, another officer approached. “Karim, welcome back, man. Didn’t know the kid was your brother. Relax, we’ll get this sorted. Honestly, he didn’t steal anything. Looks like he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Karim let out a shaky breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you. I need to see him.”

The officer nodded. “The French guys just finished their questioning. They’ve left, so we’ll get Ayman out now.”

Karim followed the officer down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. His mind was still racing. How did this happen? He couldn’t decide whether to scold Ayman or embrace him. Maybe both.

The door to the interrogation room creaked open, and two officers stepped in. One of them, a stocky man with a stern face, glanced at Ayman and shook his head. “Well, kid, you’re lucky. Your brother’s here to bail you out.”

Ayman exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. “Thank God he’s here,” he muttered under his breath, sitting back in his chair.

The other officer, a younger man with a softer demeanor, raised his eyebrows as he looked at Ayman. “Wait… You’re Karim’s brother? Seriously? Karim worked here for years! He’s one of the best cops I’ve ever known. Decent, honest, hardworking. And you? This is insane.”

The stocky officer, however, wasn’t as impressed. He sneered at Ayman. “Karim’s brother, huh? What a shame. Your brother was respected here, kid. Everyone admired him, and now… this. You’re a disgrace. You’re nothing like him.”

Ayman’s face burned with anger and humiliation. His fists clenched as he glared at the officer. “I didn’t do anything,” he growled, though the words sounded hollow even to him.

The stocky officer waved dismissively. “Whatever. Just get out of here, kid. Don’t let me see your face around this station again. You’re free to go.”

They handed Ayman his bag, his belongings shoved carelessly inside, and motioned for him to leave. Ayman grabbed it, his movements jerky with frustration. His head was pounding, his mind spiraling. The humiliation of being compared to his brother—the golden cop of the station—was too much to bear.

He stormed out into the hallway, where Karim stood waiting. The moment Karim spotted him, his face contorted with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Ayman! What the hell are you doing here?!” Karim’s voice boomed through the corridor, startling a few officers nearby.

Ayman stopped in his tracks, clutching his bag tightly. He looked up at his brother, his face a mix of anger and shame.

“What are you doing, Ayman?!” Karim shouted again, stepping closer. His voice was raw with emotion, his frustration boiling over. “You have any idea what this looks like? What the hell were you thinking?”

Ayman’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with defiance. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t explain himself. The weight of everything—the accusations, the comparison to his brother, the humiliation—pressed down on him like a crushing wave.

The officers in the background exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. Karim noticed but didn’t care. His focus was solely on Ayman, whose silence only stoked his fury.

“Do you realize how much I’ve done to make sure you had a better life?” Karim continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And now this? This is what you do?”

Ayman swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn’t look his brother in the eye. He couldn’t bear the weight of Karim’s disappointment.

“I didn’t steal anything,” Ayman finally muttered, his voice barely audible.

Karim stepped closer, his glare intense. “Then what were you doing, Ayman? Huh? Explain it to me!”

Ayman couldn’t answer. His anger, his shame, his confusion—they all tangled together, choking him. He shook his head, clutching his bag, and looked away.

Karim sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s go,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still filled with frustration. He turned and began walking toward the exit, leaving Ayman to follow.

Karim stood frozen for a moment, his hand raised mid-air, ready to slap Ayman. His face was red with anger, his frustration reaching its peak. But as he looked closer, his hand faltered. Ayman’s face told a different story—his wide, haunted eyes and trembling lips made it clear he wasn’t present. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in something Karim couldn’t see or understand.

Ayman, silent and dazed, let himself be led out of the station. They walked to the car, Karim practically dragging his younger brother. He opened the passenger door and shoved Ayman inside before slamming it shut.