The Woman Who Was Almost Me

Everything felt slow and heavy, as if the world had lost its color. Dina's days blurred between hospital visits and restless nights. Her heart condition worsened, her body weakened, and the damage from the assault lingered in ways none of us could fully grasp.

Guilt weighed on her, more than anything else. She barely slept, haunted by nightmares that left her shaking. Some nights, she would sit by the window, staring into the darkness, silent. Other times, she would wake up gasping for breath, as if drowning in something invisible.

We tried to be there for her—Laleh, Mom, me—but nothing seemed to reach her completely. The sadness ran too deep, and no words felt enough.

She refused any mental health treatment, agreeing only to the physical operations—both for her heart and the damage left by the assault.

I believed it was because of him. The guilt she carried for not listening to his warnings weighed heavier than anything else. And he had always dismissed psychological treatments as non-scientific. Maybe this was her way of repaying him—following his views now, after having ignored them before, a mistake that led to disaster.

But no surgery could fix the wounds inside her.

I was almost talking to Laleh every day about Dina, searching for anything that might help her.

One day, I shared my concerns, and Laleh immediately came over to our house. She walked straight to Dina's room and then called Aamz on speakerphone. She motioned for silence and said, "Hush... just pay attention."

After two calls, he didn't answer, but on the third, his cold voice came through. Without a greeting, he said: "Sorry, lady. I have no more capacity for your spit."

Laleh was upset, but she managed to say: "Hi."

He responded with irritation: "What? What's next? What game do you want me to play? What should I pretend now, and what should I believe?"

Laleh, refusing to let him dismiss the situation, said: "I've heard that you know a lot about philosophy and mysticism… things like that."

He quickly shot back: "No, you're wrong. I know nothing more than what you can study yourself or find on the internet."

She stopped him before he could shut her down: "What about Dina? What was she attending?"

This seemed to catch his attention at last.

He replied, "So?"

Laleh pressed, "What was that?"

He responded dismissively, "Attend to yourself with your dirty friend, and you'll find out."

At that moment, Dina's tears began to fall slowly, each one carrying the weight of a deep, heart-wrenching pain.

Laleh, trying to keep her composure, asked, "Is that psychology?"

He scoffed, "Are you kidding? No. Psychology is science. But there are too many charlatans out there pretending to be something they're not. True scientific psychology is the only thing you should trust. It's completely separate from that nonsense she was attending."

Laleh thanked him and ended the call.

Turning to Dina, Laleh said, "Look, Dina, he accepts psychological treatment."

In that simple exchange, the genius of Laleh's words worked to convince Dina to consider psychotherapy.

Laleh said, "The other thing is the legal follow-up."

Dina replied, "What? We can't."

Laleh asked, "Why?"

I explained, "If we go down that route, our father will be informed, and we can't anticipate his reaction. Plus, Shahed is the son of a very powerful person. Pursuing this could be really dangerous."

Laleh nodded, "Fine, forget it for now. But we do have something else to follow up on."

I asked, "What is that?"

Laleh replied, "Bring Aamz back to Dina."

Dina cried with a heart-wrenching sob and said, "Impossible."

Laleh reassured her, "No, he will forgive."

Dina shook her head, "Knowing what happened will hurt him too much."

Laleh responded, "We can leave the details for the distant future. He won't fact-check now."

There was a silence in the room, a quiet tension that neither of us knew how to break, but the weight of Laleh's words hung heavy on us all.

Laleh whispered to me as she was leaving, "Check her phone every day. Record her messages and inform me."

I hesitated, "But..."

She interrupted, "It's helping, not interfering."

Her words lingered in my mind as I stood there, uncertain about the fine line between protecting Dina and respecting her privacy. But I knew Laleh was right—this was for Dina's well-being, even if it felt invasive.

While checking her messages, I found something far worse than anything I had anticipated—messages from Shahed. For example:

"You hit me and ran, but I still want you. I will marry you soon when you get better."

"How can you say you hate me? You were always flirting with me, and when I got close, you ran."

There were also unanswered messages from Dina to Aamz.

I immediately told Laleh about them.

Laleh said, "Not good! Not good at all. For now, I have nothing in mind."

She paused for a moment, her frustration clear, before adding, "We'll need to take this carefully. But for now, we need to focus on Dina's health and well-being."

A few days later, when Dina seemed a bit better, the three of us were once again sitting in her room.

Laleh said, "We have multiple problems: first, Aamz is completely cold. Second, marrying Aamz is difficult now, especially with your father involved. Third, we need to put away that dirty guy."

Dina replied, "There's no solution for any of them."

Suddenly, Laleh noticed something through the window. "What's that?" she asked, her voice filled with alarm.

We looked out and saw that the scaffolding in the yard had been repurposed, and Dina's clothes were tied to it, forming a crude noose.

Laleh's face went pale. "Dina, you tried again to…"

She couldn't finish the sentence. Without another word, Laleh left the room and went to speak with my mom. They were gone for a long time.

When Laleh returned later that night, she came back with my father's handcuffs in hand. She looked at Dina with a heavy heart and said, "Sorry, dear Dina. We have no solution, but your father's."

The atmosphere in the room grew tense. Dina, who had been silently staring at the floor, looked up at Laleh with wide, fearful eyes. She didn't say anything, but the pain and defeat in her expression spoke volumes.

Laleh gently placed one of the handcuffs on the table and then used the other to fasten Dina's leg to the bed. The other cuff she placed on Dina's hands. "It's only for nights, honey," Laleh said softly, her voice full of care, yet carrying the weight of the decision. "We're doing this to protect you, Dina. You need rest, and you need to stay safe. We can't let this go on."

Dina's breath hitched, and she shakily said, "You think these... these handcuffs will protect me? From what? From myself?"

Laleh's face softened as she sat beside Dina. "It's not about punishing you. It's about keeping you safe, preventing you from making decisions that could hurt you even more. We need time to heal, Dina. Please, just give it time."

I looked at Dina, torn between the overwhelming sadness and the desire to fix things. She had already been through so much, and now this—more isolation. It felt like every step forward was met with another setback.

Dina didn't respond, but I could see the turmoil in her eyes. She looked at the handcuffs, then at us, and finally let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Maybe... maybe you're right," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Maybe I need to be locked away from everything for a while. Maybe it's the only way I'll stop hurting everyone."

Laleh shook her head. "We don't want you locked away, Dina. We just need to make sure you're safe, and that you heal. You will heal, but it'll take time."

As Laleh left the room, I stood beside Dina, not knowing what to say. How could I offer comfort when it felt like nothing could fix the broken pieces of her soul?

"Don't worry, Dina," I said softly, my voice shaking with emotion. "We'll get through this together. I'll always be here."

Dina looked at me, her eyes empty, but for a moment, there was a flicker of something—a silent promise that maybe, just maybe, she was willing to fight for herself again.

In the early morning, Laleh returned to our home. We saw her hands covered in blood, the cuffs removed, and her leg marked with deep scars from her attempts to break free.

For a moment, Laleh stood frozen, disappointment in her eyes. Then, with a sigh, she retrieved some bonds and started tending to Dina's wounds. "I found a solution," she murmured, almost to herself, as she carefully began to heal the scars.

She placed some soft bonds under the cuffs on Dina's leg to prevent the metal from cutting into her skin again. "If you can just be patient, everything will be solved," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Then, in a more forceful manner, Laleh took Dina's hands, moving them behind her back to limit her movements. She fastened the cuffs tightly. "We need a few days like this, Dina. Just a few days to protect you."

Laleh leaned back, her gaze hardening for a moment. "And this is for the whole day. You didn't listen, and now you need to be a good girl and follow the rules."

Dina said nothing, her eyes downcast, but the weight of Laleh's words seemed to sink in. The air in the room was heavy with the tension of the situation—Dina's quiet rebellion and Laleh's hard love, a strange and unsettling mix of protection and punishment.

Dina's body tensed under the restraints, and for a moment, everything was still.

Laleh left for a moment, only to return shortly with three cups of tea. She sat down and, without wasting time, said, "Now we have a solution. It's a plan."

I broke my silence, still processing her actions. "A plan?" I asked, confused.

"Yes," she replied with determination. "A young, skillful engineer like Aamz can migrate easily to Europe. The sick girl," she glanced at Dina, "will go there for heart surgery, which you desperately need. Surrounded by the relief of a successful operation, suddenly, our Max Cohen will show up and propose.

And your father won't be able to reject it when your mom supports the idea."

Laleh paused, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, before she looked at Dina, who was still restrained. She picked up one of the tea cups and gently brought it to Dina's lips. "Sorry, Hannibal Lecter," she said with a half-smile, a bit of her dark humor breaking through the tension.

She set the cup down, taking another deep breath before continuing, "And after all this, you'll be living abroad—far from Shahed and his father, where they won't have the chance to harm you anymore."

There was a brief silence as the weight of her words settled in the room. The tension hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, we all simply sat there, contemplating the consequences of this plan.

That sounded simple and possible. I said, "I'm in."

Dina hesitated before speaking, her voice faint, "In case he wants to be with me again."

Laleh, with confidence, replied, "He does. I told him last night it was because of your heart attack. You were shocked, and to make him understand or give him space, you acted that way. He'll want to be with you again if you honestly apologize and talk to him face-to-face. I'll arrange it."

I said, "I love you, Laleh. You're amazing."

Dina, still in distress, said, "I'm in too. Now, free me."

Laleh responded firmly, "Sorry, I can't right now, honey. It's what's best for you."

The day passed with Laleh's arrangements for Dina.

Later in the night, Dina said, "Free me, Dorsa. That was a one-time thing."

I asked, "Tell me why you tried it again, and I'll free you."

She replied, "I dreamed of Mahkia. She was dying. My daughter was dying. It was a sign for me..."

I said, "Dreaming about your imaginary daughter is not an excuse. I'll free you and help you get ready. We'll go to Aamz tonight. We'll bring him back. Laleh knows where to find him."

In a park, a young man sat by the river, with a pizza beside him. Two children, looking like laborers, were around him. He was cutting the pizza into pieces, giving one to each child, and taking one for himself.

We were watching from a distance.

When the boys finished their dinner, we sent Dina over to him.

Dina returned an hour later, looking happy.

She said, "The man under radical is in."

She had swapped the boy under radical with the man under radical.