Scene opens with Asrar setting in a sandy patch of garden, a simple stick in her hand. Faint lines in the sand show the remnants of a drawing, now abandoned. She stares blankly ahead, then speaks softly to herself)

Asrar: (Whispering) "If only I can be like them..."

(Her face sadne slightly, her lower lip trembling. She stands up, brushing sand off her dress, and gazes up at the reddening sky. A deep sigh escapes her lips. She glances back down at the ground, scuffing the sand with the toe of her shoes.)

(Elara approaches, her steps quiet on the manicured lawn. She stops a few feet away from Asrar, her voice flat.)

Elara: asrar , it Dinner time.

(Asrar get startled slightly, her eyes widening in surprise She looks at Elara .)

Asrar: Oh. I… I didn't realize it was so late.

Elara :Another time. But don't stay outside too long, you'll catch a cold.

Asrar: (Sighing) Sorry. I just… I lose track of time.

Elara: I understand. It happens. Your father will be expecting you at the table.

(Elara's tone isn't unkind, but it's devoid of warmth. She doesn't offer a smile or a comforting word. She simply stands there, waiting.)

Asrar: (Hesitantly) Is… is he? He usually eats in his room.

Elara: He asked that you join him tonight. Now, come along. It's getting chilly.

(Elara turns and begins to walk back towards the villa, not waiting to see if Asrar follows. Asrar hesitates for a moment, looking back at the darkening sky, then back at the imposing villa looming in the distance. A mix of apprehension and a tiny sliver of hope flickers across her face. She slowly follows Elara, her small footsteps barely making a sound on the grass.

Walking along, her gaze fixed on the floor, a strange yet wonderful feeling bubbled within her – she was about to see her father. A slight blush colored her cheeks as she lifted her eyes, a small smile gracing her lips as she looked at the back of the maid's.

They reached the dining room.

Asrar standing hesitantly just inside the dining room doorway. Elara stands silently a few steps beside her.)

Asrar: (Whispering, almost to herself) I… I don’t know if I should.

She Clutching the doorknob, she hesitated. She opened the door a crack but couldn't bring herself to open it further

(She peeks through the small opening, her eyes widening as she spots Khaled at the head of the table, engrossed in his phone.)

Elara: (Quietly, but firmly) Your father is waiting, Asrar.

(Asrar flinches slightly at Elara's words. Before she can react, Khaled looks up from his phone, his gaze settling on Asrar at the door. His expression is unreadable.)

Asrar: (Startled) Papa…

(She instinctively starts to close the door, but Elara gently places a hand on her shoulder and pushes her forward into the room. Asrar stumbles slightly, her eyes fixed on Khaled.)

Khaled: (His voice is deep and even, devoid of warmth) Come, sit next to me.

(Asrar shuffles towards the table, her small shoes making almost no sound on the polished floor. She reaches the chair and attempts to pull it out, but her small hands struggle with the heavy furniture. She then tries to climb onto the chair, but her legs are too short and she fumbles, nearly losing her balance.)

With a soft, almost silent sigh, Khaled stood. His movements were deliberate as he adjusted her chair, then carefully lifted and settled her into it .His expression remained unreadable

Khaled: (Without emotion) Be careful.

(Asrar finally manages to settle on the chair, though her feet don't reach the floor. She shrinks back, feeling the weight of her perceived clumsiness. She avoids eye contact with her father, staring down at the pristine white tablecloth. A wave of sadness washes over her.)

Then said Asrar: (Looking down, her voice barely audible) Thank you, Papa.

Looking at the table cloth and then she looks at her father, she feels her father is huge and she feels even smaller against the imposing father . She avoids eye contact, her heart pounding in her chest. The silence stretches, broken only by the clinking of silverware as Elara begins to serve the meal. A generous portion of lasagna is placed in front of Asrar.)

(Asrar’s eyes widen. The lasagna is her favorite! A small smile begins to form on her face, chasing away the earlier anxiety. She stares at the cheesy, saucy layers, her mouth watering.)

(She pulls herself back from her reverie, glancing hesitantly at Khaled. He is back on his phone, seemingly oblivious.)

(Asrar reaches for her fork, but her hand is trembling. The fork slips from her grasp and clatters loudly against the porcelain plate. The sound echoes in the silent room.)

(Asrar freezes, her face flushing a deep crimson.

Asrar couldn't hold her tears her tears start falling

Asrar ( Tremblant , Whispering, mortified) I'm sorry, Papa.

Lowering his phone, Khaled finally looked at Asrar. He was taken aback to see her silently weeping, her face flushed and her eyes wide with fear as she stared at him. They remained locked like this for a long moment

Asrar (6 years old, Voice choked with tears): I... I'm trying, Papa. But... but I dropped the fork...

(Asrar sobs harder, burying her face in her hands. Her small body shakes. The lasagna, once a source of excitement, now sits untouched and taunting on the plate.)

Khaled (Internal Monologue): This is ridiculous. Tears over a dropped fork? She needs discipline, not

coddling. But... the look on her face. It's... unsettling.

(Khaled hesitates, looked at her ,he felt everything in his body shaking. he raised his head and started looking around. Elara is watching him with a quiet intensity, her expression unreadable. The pressure mounts.)

Khaled: (Standing abruptly. His voice is clipped and sharp.) Elara, clean this up. Asrar, you can to your room . Go to bed.

(Khaled strides from the dining room, leaving Asrar sobbing and Elara to clear the table. His retreating footsteps echo in the silence.)

Asrar: (Whimpering) But... Papa... I'm still hungry...

(Elara approaches Asrar, kneeling beside her chair. She gently wipes Asrar's tears with a soft napkin.)

Elara: Shhh, habibti (my dear). It's alright. Let's get

you cleaned up. I'll bring you a small bowl of fruit and some milk to your room, okay?

(Elara takes Asrar's hand and leads her from the dining room. She casts a disapproving glance in the direction Khaled disappeared.)

Elara continued walking

Elara walked with a determined stride, lost in thought. She was contemplating Asrar, reflecting on the harshness everyone seemed to direct at her. I've even been harsh myself, hoping to make her stronger, maybe I am doing it the wrong way. I need to be kinder.

Lost in thought, Elara momentarily forgot about the presence of little Asrar beside her.

Asrar was trying to keep up walking with Elara But she couldn't and stumbled.Elara noticed Asrar falling and

bent down and caught her.

Asrar's heart leaped with a jolt, and her face betrayed her fear.

Elara: habibti darling, are you ok?

Asrar : ye yeah ImIm ok

Elara: habibti darling I am sorry are you really ok

Asrar : y yeah I m ok let's continue walking

Elara continued Walking with asrar

Asrar, her small hand clasped in Elara's hand, shuffles along the hallway. Her sobs have quieted to occasional sniffles, but her shoulders still tremble. Elara can feel the residual tension in her grip. The hallway is lined with expensive artwork, but Asrar doesn't even glance at it. She's lost in her own world of hurt .

Elara gently squeeze her hand. Elara: "There, there, habibti. Almost there. Let’s get you into your pajamas, alright?"

Elara lead her into her room, a large space filled with toys that seem barely touched. A grand dollhouse sits in one corner, meticulously furnished, but lifeless.

(Elara has just tucked Asrar into her bed Elara smooths the covers, her touch gentle.)

(Asrar is lying in bed, still sniffling. Elara sits beside her, holding her hand. A small bowl of cut fruit and a glass of milk sit on the bedside table.)

Elara: (Softly) Eat something, habibti. It will make you feel better.

(Asrar shakes her head, tears welling up again.)

Asrar: Papa's angry.

Elara: (Sighing inwardly) Your papa... he just doesn't know how to... how to be a papa. It's not your fault, Asrar. You are a good girl.

(Elara strokes Asrar's hair. She doesn't look at the door, knowing Khaled is probably wallowing in self-pity instead of apologizing to his daughter.)

(It is the next morning. The sun streams in through the window. Asrar is already awake, sitting quietly at the edge of her bed, clutching a small stuffed bear. Elara is in the kitchen, making breakfast. The sounds of sizzling egg and gentle clatter of dishes fill the air.)

Elara (Calling out from the kitchen): Asrar, darling? Are you awake? Breakfast will be ready soon.

(Asrar doesn't reply immediately. She looks down at her bear, then slowly gets off the bed and shuffles toward the kitchen. Her eyes are still a little puffy from crying the night before.)

(Meanwhile, Khaled is still asleep in the master bedroom. He lies on his back, his face etched with a subtle unease,