did you know

Leila!" Soraya shouted, her voice raw with anger and disbelief. The carefully controlled calm she had managed to maintain shattered, replaced by a torrent of furious denial. "How dare you say that about David? You're just trying to get away with what you did! He would never do such a thing!"

Her voice rose, her words laced with a desperate plea, a desperate attempt to cling to the version of reality that she desperately needed to believe. "Do you know what? He was at school with me that week. The week before we started school together! How could he have possibly done it? You're lying, Leila! You're a liar!"

Soraya's denial was not simply a refusal to accept Leila's accusation; it was a desperate act of self-preservation. The thought of David being capable of such a heinous crime was too unbearable to contemplate. Her love for him, her unwavering belief in his innocence, blinded her to the possibility that Leila might be telling the truth. The accusation was a threat not only to Leila, but also to Soraya's carefully constructed reality, a reality she desperately needed to protect.

"Do you know the day I got admitted to Harvard?" she demanded, her voice ringing with a mixture of anger and desperation. "David got in too! We went to school together that day. We were on the same train! The same train, Leila! So how could he possibly have done what you're accusing him of?"

She paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and anguish. The memories flooded back, vivid and sharp, a stark contrast to the hazy, uncertain landscape of the present.

"Our parents died the next week," she continued, her voice cracking. "I came home… I remember it all so clearly. How could he have done it? You're lying, Leila! You're a liar!"

Soraya's words hung in the air, a seemingly irrefutable alibi. The vivid detail, the shared memory, the precise timeline—it all pointed to David's innocence. Or did it? The precision of her recollection, the desperate clinging to these details, could also be interpreted as a sign of her own profound unwillingness to accept the possibility of David's guilt.

The investigator, Evan, observed the exchange with a calculating gaze.

The tension in the small interrogation room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Soraya, still reeling from Leila's revelation, was speechless, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her. Evan, his expression unreadable, watched Soraya's reaction with a keen, calculating gaze. Then, Leila spoke, her voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had consumed the room.

Leila planted the seeds of doubt, her words carefully chosen to undermine Soraya's belief in David's innocence. "Did you know," she began, her voice calm and measured, "that when you and David went to Harvard—I mean, when you thought you and David went to Harvard—that David didn't actually go to Harvard?"

Leila paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. Soraya stared at her, her face a mask of disbelief and dawning horror. The carefully constructed alibi, the shared memory of the train journey, the unwavering belief in David's innocence—it all began to crumble under the weight of Leila's carefully chosen words.

"Instead," Leila continued, her voice gaining strength, "he went to get an illegal gun. The gun that was used to shoot our parents. Did you know that he wasn't accepted to Harvard? That he had been lying to you all these years?"

Leila's words were carefully chosen, each one designed to chip away at Soraya's faith in David. She continued, her voice rising slightly in intensity, "Why haven't you met him once at school? Why is he always coming up with excuses about departmental business? Why haven't you seen him since you guys departed to your various departments? Why haven't you met him at all?"

The questions hung in the air, unanswered, yet potent enough to sow seeds of doubt in Soraya's mind.

Leila took a deep breath, a sense of determination hardening her features. "Can someone record everything I have to say?" she asked, her voice unwavering. "It will be a long flashback, and I want it to be recorded."

Mrs. Evans, perched on the edge of the chair, scoffed. "It has a lot of confidence for someone that is about to be charged to court," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Leila didn't respond to the jab. She was focused, her gaze fixed on the investigator, Evan, who nodded, signaling her readiness. "I just want everything I want to say to be recorded," she stated firmly. "I'm starting from the genesis, where it's all began."

Soyara sitted beside Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes, her expression a mix of impatience and disbelief. "Don't waste my time," she muttered. "I have lots of things to do."

"Okay," Leila replied, her tone flat, devoid of any attachment. She was not going to be swayed by Soraya's dismissive attitude. She had come to tell her truth, and she was determined to see it through.

The investigator Evan, her gaze sharp and observant, signaled to her assistant, who began to record. Leila, settling back in her chair, began to weave her story, taking them back to the genesis of a tragedy.

"It all started with the scholarship," she said, her voice measured. "My sister, Soraya, and David, they both applied for the same scholarship – a prestigious one, a full ride to Harvard. They were both brilliant students, both driven by the same ambition. They were rivals, you could say, but… there was a spark between them."

She paused, her gaze drifting to Soraya, who sat rigidly, her eyes fixed on the floor. "They'd spend hours in the library, studying together, arguing over theories, pushing each other to achieve. I admired their connection, their passion. They would talk late into the night, about everything – their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. Even our parents knew they liked each other. "

Leila's voice softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone. "They became friends, closer than friends. They were both so focused on their studies, on proving themselves, on achieving that one dream. They shared a passion for knowledge, a desire to make a difference in the world. They were both so young, so naive. They thought they were invincible."

She paused again, drawing a breath, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. "Then the scholarship announcement came. Soraya's name was on the list. David's wasn't. It was heartbroken for her. While we were all elated."