A small, quiet building, a staircase that smells of coffee and spices. Moussa rings the doorbell, a little uncomfortable. He came to pay a little visit to his enemy's mother.

The door opens to reveal a woman with a huge smile, an apron tied around her waist and her hands still full of flour.

Madam Aïcha: Salam alaykoum! Hello, hello! Who are you?

Moussa hesitates for a moment.

Moussa: Hello ma'am, I would like to come in, please.

Madame Aïcha looks at him from head to toe, then her face lights up.

Madame Aïcha: Ah! You're my son's friend, right? Mashallah! He never says anything, this boy, he never brings anyone back. Come on, come in, come in, Habibi! Don't stand there like that, this is your home!

She grabs his arm with surprising force and drags him into the living room. A large sofa covered in colorful cushions, the smell of warm bread and mint, a television murmuring in the corner.

Madame Aïcha: Sit down, sit down! Do you want tea, coffee, juice? Wallah, I'll prepare you a little something, you won't leave on an empty stomach!

Moussa: No thank you, ma'am, I don't want to disturb.

Madame Aïcha: Disturb? What are you talking about ? A friend of my son is like my son! Yalla, don't move from there, I'm coming!

She disappears into the kitchen, shouting orders to no one, and soon the sounds of pots and pans ring out.

A few minutes later, she returns with a large tray: steaming mint tea, honey cakes and hot batbout.

Madame Aïcha: Here, eat, bismillah! Taste this, I made it this morning. Eat, eat, you're too skinny, wallah! You don't eat enough, it shows!

Moussa takes a cake, a little taken by surprise by so much kindness. Madame Aïcha sits next to him, her eyes shining.

Madame Aïcha: So, tell me, where do you know him from, my son? Are you together at school or at work?Is he nice to you at least? If he bothers you, you tell me, I will pull his ear, inshallah!

She bursts out laughing, then pours him more tea without even waiting for him to finish his cup.

Madame Aïcha: Today, you're staying to eat with us, huh? I make good couscous like at home. You don't say no, it doesn't happen! It’s the baraka who’s coming home with you!

She pats his hand affectionately, beaming, determined that this guest will have the best day of his life at her place.