A war survivor lives imprisoned in his own mind, believing he's in a real prison, unaware that his only path to freedom is to confront the truth that his family is no longer alive.

SYNOPSIS:

In the depths of a dark, damp prison cell, OBADA, a man in his thirties, sits exhausted, bound by rusty shackles around his ankles. His sole objective is to break his chains with a small rock, striking the lock with a desperate persistence. The rhythmic tapping is the only sound that breaks the oppressive silence of the cell.

In a parallel narrative, we cut to a sunny family balcony where a father, ABU KHALED, and his wife, UM KHALED, are on a warm video call with their two expatriate sons, KHALED and OMRAN. The conversation revolves around daily life, a father's loving chiding of his sons for their distance, and a mother's expressions of longing. The scene paints a picture of a close-knit Syrian family, held together by love despite the distances of diaspora.

However, as the call progresses, a surreal reality begins to unfold. Suddenly, the image of the eldest son, Khaled, freezes on the screen, transforming from a vibrant live feed into a faded pencil sketch. The same occurs with Omran, and then with the parents. These static, lifeless drawings begin to appear on the wall of Obada's cell, and he stares at them as if they are his only window to a world he has lost.

Obada’s strikes on his shackle become more frantic and urgent until, abruptly, the chains vanish from his ankles. In a shocking reveal, we discover the full truth: Obada was never in a prison. He is in an ordinary room, his clothes are clean, and the "shackle" he was fighting against was nothing more than a bottle he was tapping aimlessly on the floor.

The drawings on the wall have now transformed into real and horrific photographs. They are pictures of his entire family—Abu Khaled, Um Khaled, and his brothers—their faces stained with blood and dust. They were all victims of a bombing that killed them.