Fatima returned to her room after a long day of caution and meticulous planning. She locked the door behind her with a heavy click, as if sealing herself into a world that belonged to no one but her. She walked slowly toward the bed and sat on its edge, enveloped in a thick, oppressive silence. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but her mind was a turbulent sea of tangled thoughts and restless anxiety.
In her hand was a small scrap of paper with the meter number. She knew with absolute certainty that this number was the key—a thin thread that would lead her to the person she sought. But for now, it was a ghost: no name, no address, no identity. Trying to link a meter number to a criminal was like searching for a needle in a haystack, especially without official authority or access to the company's private records.
Moments of silence passed, and then... a spark of an idea flashed like lightning in the pitch-black darkness. She remembered a man who passed by the windows every month, carrying a ledger and a pen—the meter reader. His face was never familiar, but he was always there, a shadow seen only when needed.
A faint smile, laced with cunning, touched Fatima's lips. It wasn't a smile of joy, but one of breaking a siege, as if a glimmer of hope had finally forced its way through the cracks of despair. She had found a new thread, and perhaps... a gateway to the first name on her list.
She waited for him until he arrived, exactly as he always did. He was a friendly man, carrying a small notebook and a permanent smile. She approached him with calculated grace.
"Could you do me a small favor?" she asked, her voice soft and polite.
He smiled back. "With pleasure, how can I help?"
She feigned a shy, troubled look. "Actually... there is a young man who has proposed to marry me. He told me he owns a house in this area, and I just wanted to be sure... to know if he's telling the truth or deceiving me. He said it's his family home, but I don't feel comfortable with his words."
She pulled the meter number from her pocket and added, "Could you just tell me the name of the owner of this meter? I want to be certain before he comes to meet my family in Ouezzane..."
The employee checked the number, then smiled again, oblivious to the predator standing before him. "It's my pleasure. I'll check it for you."
A short while later, he returned with a small slip of paper. On it was the full name of the homeowner and a second address. Fatima took it without a word, thanking him only with her eyes. She retreated to her room and locked herself away for three consecutive days.
In that isolation, Fatima did not weep or moan. Instead, she studied the art of vengeance. Since her childhood, she had been obsessed with detective movies, memorizing their scenes and scrutinizing their details. Today, she combined everything she had learned from those films with her knowledge of reality to build her perfect plan.
She had decided to teach those five a lesson they would never forget—to make them drink from the same bitter cup they had forced upon her. And to know exactly where to begin, she chose her first target:
Their leader... the driver of the car.
And she vowed to execute her plan without leaving a single trace behind.
On the third day, Fatima wore an old, torn, and soiled djellaba, looking like a homeless woman who would attract no second glances. She headed toward the address she had obtained. She stood near a trash container not far from the house, hiding and watching in silence.
It wasn't long before Murad stepped out of the door, acting as if nothing had happened. Her heart trembled when she saw him, and a volcano of rage erupted within her. At that moment, she wanted to rush toward him, to scream in his face, to hold him accountable for his crimes... but she held herself back.
Murad passed right in front of her. He looked at her for a brief second, then continued on his way without recognizing her. In that moment, she was certain. It was him. The driver. And this was his lair.
Fatima returned home with steady steps, shedding the garment of weakness and preparing for her first strike... a vengeance without mercy.