"'I cannot accuse anyone. And I cannot rule anyone out.'
'I cannot accuse anyone. And I cannot rule anyone out.'
Suddenly, many images began to flood back into my memory. Images I had previously ignored, but now they appeared entirely different.
My mind drifted back to the birthday party. To that moment when Layan was running among the children, laughing. And to my brother-in-law's wife, who was staring at her in a way that had caught my attention at the time. I remember clearly how she held Layan’s face between her hands and stared at her eyes and eyelashes for a long time. Then, she said in front of everyone:
'Who did she get those eyelashes from?'
Everyone laughed. But I didn't like the tone of the question. Then, she looked back at her own daughter. That scene had remained stuck in my mind for no apparent reason.
I had pushed the thought away at the time. But now, I was no longer able to discard it. On the contrary, it began to grow inside me like a snowball rolling at a frantic speed.
And when I reached home, my husband was waiting for us, full of anxiety."
"He immediately asked about the results of the examination. I told him everything. As soon as I mentioned the possibility that someone might have done something to Layan, his face changed.
He said sharply, 'Stop thinking this way.'
But I couldn't.
Every time I looked at my daughter’s swollen eye, I remembered that question: 'Who did she get those eyelashes from?' And every time I remembered the question, I felt that there was something uncomfortable behind it.
The discussion between my husband and me began to turn into an argument, and then the argument escalated into a real fight. I saw the matter clearly before me, but he refused to even listen. He said I was exaggerating, and I told him he was ignoring the truth. He claimed I was accusing people without proof, and I said his daughter was in pain while everyone was acting as if nothing had happened.
Voices were raised. Then, he stormed out of the house in anger, slamming the door behind him.
I didn't sleep that night. I sat beside Layan, watching her breathe and wiping her tears whenever she woke up from the itching. My head was filled with questions: Where did that object come from? How did it get into her eye? And why did the symptoms start right after the party?
The next morning, something happened that made things even more complicated. I received a call from my brother-in-law’s wife. She had learned that Layan had gone to the ophthalmologist and said she wanted to check on her. But I couldn't take it in good faith. Every word she said provoked me; every attempt to show concern felt like an act.
In the end, I told her she was jealous of my daughter... because my daughter was prettier than her dark-skinned, chubby daughter. I accused her of being the reason for what was happening.
Silence fell on the other end of the line. Then, I heard her crying. But even her crying didn't affect me at that moment.
Two full days later, my phone finally rang. It was the ophthalmologist. He said one sentence that made my heart leap in my chest:
'The test results are in... and I need to see you today.'
The call ended. I held the phone in my hand for several seconds while I felt my heart racing inside my chest. I had been waiting for this moment for days.
The moment of knowing the truth.
The moment of knowing who was responsible for what happened to my daughter."
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