The operator's soup caused a distance between Hamza and Fatima and destroyed the house

That day, the operator brought Fatemeh the ingredients to make a simple yet nourishing soup. She wasn’t feeling well—her body tired, her spirit worn down—but she chose to take care of herself. With shaky hands, she placed the pot on the stove and prepared a soup whose warm aroma whispered promises of recovery.
She believed that even the smallest acts of self-care could bring healing.
When the soup was ready, Fatemeh didn’t keep it all for herself. She sent a portion to Marzieh—a quiet gesture of kindness, a reminder that compassion still lived in her heart.
Later, Hamzeh came home, hungry and irritable. When he asked for food, Fatemeh calmly said she hadn’t cooked anything and had no soup to serve him.
That simple sentence ignited his anger.
Furious, Hamzeh snapped sarcastically:
“So now you have an operator to bring you food, and you act proud in front of me?”
His words cut deeply. A brief but intense argument followed—words born from exhaustion rather than reason.
Finally, Hamzeh shouted that he would go to his mother’s house to eat and stormed out.
The house fell into silence.
A soup meant for healing
became an excuse for distance.







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