In the heart of the Lebanese mountains, where olive trees whisper secrets to the wind and evening lamps flicker in stone courtyards, lived a group of villagers who loved nothing more than storytelling. One night, after supper, the men gathered in the village square, boasting of their cleverness. “Women,” they said with laughter, “may be good at cooking and spinning, but when it comes to wit, no one surpasses a man.” Their wives, listening nearby, exchanged knowing glances. Among them was wise old Zahra, famed for her quick tongue and clever tricks. She smiled quietly and said, “Tomorrow, we shall