You — approached quietly. Your presence was a contrast to the image of chaos. Dressed in white, the symbol of a new nation embroidered over your heart. Your flag carried the hope of reconciliation — and a brave break from the ways of your brother, Israel.

Palestine didn’t even look at you at first. He only whispered:

— "Did you come to watch me suffer too?"

Your response was a gesture — you sat beside him without a word at first. You simply shared the weight of silence.

— "I’m not here to judge. I’m here to feel. And… to protect those no one protects," your voice came out low, firm, filled with shared pain.

Palestine finally turned his face, surprised. There was something new in his gaze. An unexpected familiarity, a presence that didn’t look at him with pity, but with true solidarity.

— "You’re his sister," he said, bitterly. — "Why… are you here?"

You hesitated, but replied from the heart:

— "Being someone’s sibling doesn’t mean agreeing with everything they do. I was born from the desire for change. For peace. And I see you, Palestine. I see your people’s pain. The unheard screams, the lives lost, the dreams destroyed by bullets that should’ve never been fired..."

Palestine began to tremble. He didn’t know if it was from anger, sadness, or just exhaustion.

You extended your hand. He looked at it. He didn’t take it right away, but he didn’t reject it either.

— "I want to help. Not with weapons. Not with empty speeches. But with action. With human shields, with food, with healing. I want to be a bridge where only walls were built. I want to protect the innocent — Arabs, Jews, Christians, children… everyone."

Palestine lowered his head, and for the first time, cried without hiding it.

You embraced him, tightly. The world might have been at war, but there… two hearts beat for the same dream. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step to change everything.