The Lost Between

Let me begin with my extraordinary story. No one ever believes me when I tell it. They smile, they laugh, and dismiss my words as madness or fantasy. I only hope, dear reader, that you will listen before you judge.

I was, by all appearances, an ordinary woman in her twenties. I followed the expected path-university, a respectable job, and endless ambitions waiting ahead. Yet somewhere along the way, something inside me faded. Passion left me. Hope dimmed. The future became a corridor of closed doors.

Each morning was a battle. I drove my beloved car, *Mimi*, to work and rose to the nineteenth floor, where the Department of Marketing and E-Commerce overlooked the city. At my modest desk, I stared at a page titled *Completed Tasks*, though it held nothing but scattered thoughts, black coffee stains, and unfinished dreams. Only the tea boy ever understood me with a single glance.

Ah, I nearly forgot my name.

I am **Qatra**.

There is no need for my father's name, nor my tribe. I have never believed a person's worth should be measured by ancestry. Some customs are too old, too cruel, and too deeply rooted. I do not know when they will vanish. Perhaps not until the end of days.

Qatra - Riyadh, Saudi Arabia