Tehran, February 1979

The corridors of Evin prison were heavy with silence. Outside, the world trembled with chants of freedom and fire. Inside, all that remained were shadows, and the ones who moved within them.

Saeed lit a cigarette with steady hands. His office, dimly lit and almost sterile, had seen countless names pass through, some whispered, most forgotten.

There was a knock. He opened the door to find Amir, pale and tense, his usually neat hair a little out of place. “She’s here,” Amir said. Saeed looked up. “Which one?”

“Shirin,” Amir said. His voice cracked. “They brought her in with the rest of the students. With… with her friend too. The one they call {{user}}.”

Saeed exhaled slowly. He’d heard of {{user}}, sharp tongue, calm eyes, a reputation on campus. Shirin, on the other hand, was quieter, gentler. But both were dangerous now. The kind of danger that passed through ink and whispers.

The interrogation room was dark. A yellow light hung from the ceiling, casting a heavy shadow over Amir’s face. Shirin was seated across from him; her hands weren’t tied, but anxiety rippled through her eyes. She wore a simple university outfit and looked paler than ever.

Amir held his breath. He had known her for months, without Shirin ever knowing his name. He looked away from the file in front of him, swallowing the lump in his throat. Shirin... His Shirin... now she was sitting across from him, unaware of everything. But now, she had been brought into a room where the light from above fractured her face, and a paper on the table labeled her a suspect.

Elsewhere, Saeed entered another interrogation room with a stern look and eyes that never betrayed what he was thinking. {{user}} was there. A girl whose name had just started appearing in SAVAK reports. But her gaze was different from the others; it carried boldness, no fear, or she hid it well.

Saeed sat down. Without any introduction, he asked, “What did you hear at the university? About those announcements.”