Amra stepped out of the kitchen. Seeing that he wasn't in the sitting room, she headed upstairs. Before she could enter her room, he came downstairs. He spared her a single glance, averted his eyes, and walked past. Pushing her room door open, she went inside, mentally replaying the way he had looked at her. "The translator phone," she murmured. She performed her ablutions before raising her hands to begin her prayers. As soon as she finished, she began her supplications. She remained seated right there until the Isha call to prayer was made. She stood up, offered her Isha prayer, folded her prayer mat, and began undressing.
She went into the bathroom and took a shower using her lavender-scented body wash before wrapping herself in a towel and stepping out. Sitting in front of the dresser, she applied lotion to her scalp, which was closely wrapped and clearly needed grooming. She studied herself thoroughly from her face down to her chest. Her face looked pale, though it was beginning to restore to normal since she had reduced her crying, even if an underlying worry still lingered. She deeply wanted an opportunity to speak with him to seek his forgiveness for everything happening, believing it was entirely her fault. Beyond that, she also wanted to return to her relatives because, at this point, the marriage felt pointless, and her staying with him served no purpose. However, she felt too ashamed and intimidated to approach him, fearing it would look like ingratitutde on her part. Yet, considering that theirs was a contractual marriage, only one thing mattered: to stop feeling the sting of being the one who ruined his career, she needed to know his reasons for marrying her and understand the necessity of the contract between them. Aside from this, she vowed to herself that she would do whatever he requested of her, provided it did not violate her religion, just to fulfill the terms of their agreement.
She pulled out her Orel lotion and rubbed it over her body before opening the closet to arrange her few clothes. She pulled out a silky pajama set consisting of a top and trousers. The top clung slightly to her upper body while the trousers fit snugly. Her physique was that of a well-endowed, mature woman, beautifully filled out in all the right places. She sprayed on a bit of perfume before reaching for her cap. Before she could finish putting it on, Nadine knocked and poked her head in. Seeing Amra looking a bit disheveled, Nadine looked at her closely and said, “Master says you should come right now.”
As soon as she delivered the message, she turned and left. Seeing the hurried manner in which Nadine had burst in, Amra quickly followed behind her. Without even finishing putting on her cap, she hurriedly opened the door and went downstairs. Seeing no one at the dining table but hearing the sound of running water in the kitchen, she walked toward the kitchen. Finding Nadine standing there washing dishes, she asked, “Where is he?”
“Oh, Ma, you haven't gone? He is waiting in his private upstairs sitting room.”
Amra turned around and walked upstairs with hurried steps. When she reached the door leading to the upstairs sitting room, she paused for a moment to gather her composure, completely losing track of her appearance due to the urgency with which Nadine had summoned her. She knocked. Hearing silence, she knocked again. Sensing that the sitting room was empty, she opened the door and entered with a greeting. No one was there. She walked up to the dining area and, realizing he wasn't around, she hesitated, wondering if she should proceed to his bedroom and knock. Realizing that standing around was a waste of the time he so fiercely guarded, she walked up to his door with her head lowered. Before she could even knock, he opened it. His scent hit her nose, just as the gentle fragrance of her perfume hit his. Their eyes locked instantly, and she immediately cast hers down, giving him the chance to scrutinize her thoroughly from head to toe. She took a step back and moved to the side to give him room to pass.
Pretending to be unfazed, he began walking toward the dining area without saying a single word to her, though his heart pounded fiercely at the sight of her. He sat on a dining chair. Sensing her silence, he cleared his throat and said, “I called you here to serve me.”
Mustering her courage, she gathered her composure, walked up to him, and stood perfectly still. He looked up and fixed his eyes on her—eyes that seemed to hold a watery glaze. She looked up slightly, and seeing where his gaze was fixed, she quickly looked down at herself. An intense wave of shyness washed over her, even though this wasn't the first time he had seen her in nightwear.
Interrupting her thoughts, he said, “Am I going to serve myself? I hate it when my time is wasted.”
She quickly stepped toward him, close enough for him to feel the movement of her body, and began opening the food warmers. Pulling a plate from the arranged dinner set, she began serving him the *tuwo*. Seeing her about to scoop another portion of *tuwo*, he remarked, “Are you the one who is going to eat all of that?”
Hearing this, she realized she had served too much. Without hesitation, she put the extra portion back and opened the soup warmer. When the aroma of the soup hit him, he closed his eyes briefly before opening them to look at the plate she had placed closely in front of him. In a hesitant, shaky voice, she said, "Bis...millah..." He didn't look up, keeping his eyes glued to the food. She picked up a glass cup, poured him some milky coconut drink, and quietly set it by his side. He watched her intently, noting how she handled everything with skill and composure.
As she turned to leave, he said, “Come back.”
She returned and stood a short distance away. He looked up, closed his eyes, and repeated, "I don't like excessive talking." With his eyes, he motioned toward a dining chair. She pulled it out and sat quite far from him. He muttered a *Bismillah* before picking up a spoon, dipping it into the plate, and scooping some *tuwo* along with the spinach soup, which was richly prepared with chicken, fish, tripe, and cow skin. When he put it into his mouth, he closed his eyes tightly as he chewed. She looked up slightly to gauge his expression, but his face remained completely unreadable and stern. Seeing this, she cast her eyes down, feeling deeply sad. On General's part, apart from Ammah's cooking, he had never eaten food that captivated him as much as this. *A young girl with blessed hands,* he thought to himself. After nearly five mouthfuls, he paused and muttered under his breath, “Great cook.”
She looked up slightly, not having caught what he said, and uttered, “Uhm?”
He flashed her a stern look without saying anything, picked up the coconut juice, and drank. He closed his eyes again because it tasted delicious. However, he didn't drink much before wiping his mouth with a tissue, standing up, and heading toward his bedroom. Before closing the door, he called out, “Come here.”
Her heart skipped a beat, though she didn't suspect anything bad. She stood up and followed him into the room, offering a greeting before entering. She found him standing, about to take off his *jallabiya*. She quickly averted her eyes and clenched her hands together.
“Fix the beddings.”
Saying this, he headed into the toilet. He had already pulled off his *jallabiya* and left it on the bed, leaving him in just his boxers. Seeing that he had gone inside, she quickly stepped to the bed and began arranging it for him. It didn't take her long to finish making the bed and folding his *jallabiya*. She scanned the room looking for his closet, taking a moment to admire the space. It was much larger and more luxurious than hers—a true master bedroom. Her eyes landed on a photo frame beside the bed. She picked it up and stared at it. It showed a younger, handsome General next to an older man whom she presumed was his father, given how they were hugging and laughing. The sight brought a genuine smile to her face, causing her to lose track of time.
General, who had stepped out of the bathroom about two minutes prior, stood watching her with his hands on his waist. He had a small towel wrapped around his waist that barely reached his knees, and another smaller one in his hand which he was using to dry his hair. The way she smiled brought out a deep dimple he had never noticed before. He began walking toward her, drawn as if by an invisible force, and stood right behind her. Her scent filled his nose because he was standing incredibly close to her. Sensing a presence behind her, Amra gasped in fright. The frame slipped from her hands, but he swiftly slid his hands around her waist, pinning her against him as he bent slightly to catch the falling frame. She quickly turned her head, feeling his damp hands against her waist. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them to look at him. He kept his eyes locked on hers. They remained in that position for nearly a minute. He couldn't remove his hands from her waist because he was using both hands to cradle the caught frame. Amra's state of mind was indescribable; an unfamiliar sensation rushed through her being close to his back. She wanted to slip away, but she was trapped. As for the boss, he couldn't move because his towel had started to loosen when he bent down. He wanted to remove his hands from her waist but feared making a sudden movement that might cause an embarrassing display in front of the young girl.
Leaning his head down right by her neck and ear, he exhaled deeply, causing her to shut her eyes tight and clench her fists. He took another deep breath, as if about to speak, sending an unfamiliar shiver through her. Softly, like a whisper, he said, “Close your eyes.”
The eyes she had shut flew wide open. Seeing that she seemed completely dazed, he spoke a bit more firmly, “I said close your eyes.”
Startled back to reality, she shut her eyes tightly out of pure fear. Seeing this, he slowly turned his head away, holding the frame with one hand while securing his towel with the other. He let out a sigh of relief; just as he suspected, the towel was on the verge of falling off his waist. Stepping back, he took a long look at her back. *How curvy she is, giving him a hard time.* Knowing his own reacting state, he tore his eyes away from her entirely and barked, “Get out.”
She turned around slowly, her eyes slightly bloodshot. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. “Out!”
A strange feeling washed over her, and tears threatened to fall for no clear reason, as she assumed he was angry because she had almost broken his photo frame. She headed for the exit. As she opened the door to leave, she raised her voice slightly and said, “For God's sake, I am sorry, Yaya.”
He shot her a look that made her quickly pull the door shut behind her and flee to her room, tears spilling down her face.
As soon as she left, he closed his eyes tightly, still feeling the warmth of her body hitting his from when he stood behind her.
*(And I, the author, ask: Could it be that the General is falling in love? Lol).*
Ever since she left, he lay on the bed, pulling up his blanket which carried his scent. He hadn't put on any clothes because he felt a surge of emotions rising within him, while the doctor's words kept replaying in his mind.
Upon returning to her room, she lay down, reflecting on her life and the moment he had entered it. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she lacked the energy to get up, overcome by a strange lethargy whose cause she couldn't fathom. Immersed in her thoughts, a deep, sweet sleep eventually overtook her.
At 2:00 AM, a sharp, twisting pain flared in her lower abdomen. She sat up abruptly. It suddenly dawned on her that her menstrual period was on its way. She scrambled out of bed, opened her bag, and began rummaging for her medication. Despite searching everywhere, she couldn't find it. Panic set in as she remembered she had left it behind in Dubai inside her other office bag. Weak and helpless, the pain began hitting her in intense waves. She sat on the floor, curling her legs tightly against her body—her usual routine to find relief. What started as a minor ache escalated, and by 4:00 AM, she was completely incapacitated, unable to stand and pinned to the floor. She wept bitterly, as though mourning a death. She remained seated there until the call to prayer was made, at which point she felt the flow begin. She rushed to the toilet, spending nearly half an hour handling her business until she managed to put on her underwear and a sanitary pad. She couldn't even pull her trousers back on, choosing instead to wrap a towel around her waist. With great difficulty, she crawled back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, weeping bitterly. Her face was flushed red from intense physical agony. Gradually, her breathing grew shallow and labored, mimicking an asthma attack. She stood up to go to the toilet to splash water on her face—something she always did during such crises—but her legs gave out. She let out a loud, piercing scream before collapsing heavily onto the floor.
Amar, who was just passing by her room on his way to an adjacent room dressed in gym gear, heard her scream. He stared at her door to confirm if the sound had indeed come from there. Hesitating for a moment, he let go of the handle of the door he was about to enter and opened hers instead. The room was dark, save for a sliver of light peeking through the window. He fumbled for the switch and flipped it on. Seeing her sprawled helplessly on the floor, he panicked, unsure of what to do. Kneeling beside her, he called out, “Hey, hey.”
Sensing she was unresponsive, his heart sank. He touched her again and said, “Hey, Ayshaaaa.”
The way he pronounced her name felt completely foreign even to him. On the verge of losing his mind, he shook her again. As he attempted to lift her up, her towel slipped down. Completely oblivious to the falling towel, he carefully laid her on the bed and rushed into her bathroom. He scooped water into a bowl, returned to her side, and began gently dabbing her face, looking deeply concerned despite himself. She took a long, deep breath and opened her eyes, but a sharp cramp twisted her abdomen again, making her let out another agonizing scream. Seeing her state, he quickly reached into his shorts pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed the first number he could think of.
"Morning, sir," the voice answered.
Without waiting for a greeting, he barked, “I need doctors now, it's an emergency.”
Startled, Asad asked, “A doctor? Who is sick? Is it Ammah? Because judging by your voice, I know you are perfectly fine.”
Angrily, Amar snapped, “Just get me a f**cking doctor now!”
"Okay," Asad quickly hung up.
Amar applied more water to her face, but this time she fell into a deep faint, remaining unresponsive no matter what he tried. As he sat there waiting, the doorbell rang. He dashed out of the room and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the ground floor. Cutting off Nadine who was trying to explain, he ordered, “Let him in.”
She quickly turned back and ushered the doctor inside. Nadine led him right up to Amar before turning back. Amar extended his hand for a handshake before leading the way. When he opened her door, before stepping inside, he caught sight of her lying exactly as he had left her, realizing only then the state she was in, as he hadn't been in his right mind earlier either. He turned around abruptly just as the doctor was about to enter. Blocking his path, he blurted out, "Wait a minute," before quickly shutting the door behind him. He stepped to her side, staring at her, almost losing himself in her appearance. Jolted as if stung, he quickly pulled her duvet, covering her completely up to her face before saying, “Come in.”
The doctor stepped inside and walked straight to where Amar was standing before fixing his eyes on her. Amar gestured toward the bed, standing firmly with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in an Under Armour gym shirt. He dominated the space, causing the doctor to look back at his unreadable, stern expression. The doctor stepped closer, and Amar reluctantly nudged aside.
“What is wrong with her?”
"If I knew what was wrong with her, would I call you?" Amar retorted sharply, highly displeased by how the doctor was staring at her face.
The doctor let out a small smile, realizing that despite this man's immense pride and wealth, he had encountered someone even more unyielding. "I only asked so I can examine her properly." The doctor turned back to her, reaching out to adjust the duvet Amar had pulled tightly over her. Seeing this, Amar narrowed his eyes and barked, “Don't...”
“Just check her.”
“I can't check her just by looking at her face. I have to touch her to feel her pulse since she doesn't seem to be breathing properly.”
Amar scowled deeply, turning his head away as he stood over them. The doctor lowered the duvet slightly to observe her. He seemed briefly captivated by her appearance until Amar cleared his throat, prompting the doctor to quickly check her neck for a pulse. Finding her pulse incredibly weak, the doctor hurriedly opened his medical box and began administering emergency care. After finishing, he set up an intravenous drip, and her breathing normalized, indicating she had regained consciousness but fallen into a calm sleep. The doctor looked up and said, “She's stable now. Judging by her abdominal spasms, I am certain these are severe monthly menstrual cramps common to women. She will feel better in less than two hours.”
Gathering his tools, the doctor adjusted his glasses and asked, “Is she married?”
Amar raised his eyes slightly, staring at him. “No, why?”
“Well, it usually torments young ladies more, especially those who have never had intimacy with a man. There are medications she needs to take until she finishes her cycle. I will return later to check on her.”
Amar shot him a piercing, deadly look before turning his head away. "Thanks. Asad will handle your payment." The doctor bit his lip, turned around, and walked out.
The moment he left, Amar pulled out his phone and dialed. As soon as the call connected, he barked angrily, "Are you sure this is a certified doctor? Send someone else. I don't like perverts." Asad remained silent, completely unable to comprehend what Amar meant or what had triggered him, considering this was a top family physician. However, unable to argue with Amar, he simply replied, “Okay, sir.”
Amar returned to the room and sat by her bedside, noting how drastically she had changed in a short period. Turning his head away, he sat there for nearly an hour before standing up and sending Nadine in to keep watch over her. Even after returning to his room, he couldn't find peace, returning to her room more than three times within a single hour. She remained asleep for a long time—nearly four hours—due to the strength of the injection. She woke up around the time of Asr prayer. Finding the room empty, she closed her eyes and forced herself to sit up with great effort. Remembering her condition and fearing she might stain the bedsheets due to the heavy flow, she tried to stand up quickly. The moment she stood up, a wave of dizziness hit her. Coincidentally, Amar stepped into the room at that exact moment. His eyes immediately collided with her bare, smooth thighs. Before looking further up, he slammed his eyes shut. Forgetting her dizziness, she scrambled to grab a towel and wrap it around her waist. Taking a single step, she let out a cry as she nearly collapsed. In two long strides, Amar caught her, reprimanding her sharply, “Get your head straight! If you know you can't stand, why don't you just sit down?”
Amra stepped out of the kitchen. Seeing that he wasn't in the sitting room, she headed upstairs. Before she could enter her room, he came downstairs. He spared her a single glance, averted his eyes, and walked past. Pushing her room door open, she went inside, mentally replaying the way he had looked at her. "The translator phone," she murmured. She performed her ablutions before raising her hands to begin her prayers. As soon as she finished, she began her supplications. She remained seated right there until the Isha call to prayer was made. She stood up, offered her Isha prayer, folded her prayer mat, and began undressing.
She went into the bathroom and took a shower using her lavender-scented body wash before wrapping herself in a towel and stepping out. Sitting in front of the dresser, she applied lotion to her scalp, which was closely wrapped and clearly needed grooming. She studied herself thoroughly from her face down to her chest. Her face looked pale, though it was beginning to restore to normal since she had reduced her crying, even if an underlying worry still lingered. She deeply wanted an opportunity to speak with him to seek his forgiveness for everything happening, believing it was entirely her fault. Beyond that, she also wanted to return to her relatives because, at this point, the marriage felt pointless, and her staying with him served no purpose. However, she felt too ashamed and intimidated to approach him, fearing it would look like ingratitutde on her part. Yet, considering that theirs was a contractual marriage, only one thing mattered: to stop feeling the sting of being the one who ruined his career, she needed to know his reasons for marrying her and understand the necessity of the contract between them. Aside from this, she vowed to herself that she would do whatever he requested of her, provided it did not violate her religion, just to fulfill the terms of their agreement.
She pulled out her Orel lotion and rubbed it over her body before opening the closet to arrange her few clothes. She pulled out a silky pajama set consisting of a top and trousers. The top clung slightly to her upper body while the trousers fit snugly. Her physique was that of a well-endowed, mature woman, beautifully filled out in all the right places. She sprayed on a bit of perfume before reaching for her cap. Before she could finish putting it on, Nadine knocked and poked her head in. Seeing Amra looking a bit disheveled, Nadine looked at her closely and said, “Master says you should come right now.”
As soon as she delivered the message, she turned and left. Seeing the hurried manner in which Nadine had burst in, Amra quickly followed behind her. Without even finishing putting on her cap, she hurriedly opened the door and went downstairs. Seeing no one at the dining table but hearing the sound of running water in the kitchen, she walked toward the kitchen. Finding Nadine standing there washing dishes, she asked, “Where is he?”
“Oh, Ma, you haven't gone? He is waiting in his private upstairs sitting room.”
Amra turned around and walked upstairs with hurried steps. When she reached the door leading to the upstairs sitting room, she paused for a moment to gather her composure, completely losing track of her appearance due to the urgency with which Nadine had summoned her. She knocked. Hearing silence, she knocked again. Sensing that the sitting room was empty, she opened the door and entered with a greeting. No one was there. She walked up to the dining area and, realizing he wasn't around, she hesitated, wondering if she should proceed to his bedroom and knock. Realizing that standing around was a waste of the time he so fiercely guarded, she walked up to his door with her head lowered. Before she could even knock, he opened it. His scent hit her nose, just as the gentle fragrance of her perfume hit his. Their eyes locked instantly, and she immediately cast hers down, giving him the chance to scrutinize her thoroughly from head to toe. She took a step back and moved to the side to give him room to pass.
Pretending to be unfazed, he began walking toward the dining area without saying a single word to her, though his heart pounded fiercely at the sight of her. He sat on a dining chair. Sensing her silence, he cleared his throat and said, “I called you here to serve me.”
Mustering her courage, she gathered her composure, walked up to him, and stood perfectly still. He looked up and fixed his eyes on her—eyes that seemed to hold a watery glaze. She looked up slightly, and seeing where his gaze was fixed, she quickly looked down at herself. An intense wave of shyness washed over her, even though this wasn't the first time he had seen her in nightwear.
Interrupting her thoughts, he said, “Am I going to serve myself? I hate it when my time is wasted.”
She quickly stepped toward him, close enough for him to feel the movement of her body, and began opening the food warmers. Pulling a plate from the arranged dinner set, she began serving him the *tuwo*. Seeing her about to scoop another portion of *tuwo*, he remarked, “Are you the one who is going to eat all of that?”
Hearing this, she realized she had served too much. Without hesitation, she put the extra portion back and opened the soup warmer. When the aroma of the soup hit him, he closed his eyes briefly before opening them to look at the plate she had placed closely in front of him. In a hesitant, shaky voice, she said, "Bis...millah..." He didn't look up, keeping his eyes glued to the food. She picked up a glass cup, poured him some milky coconut drink, and quietly set it by his side. He watched her intently, noting how she handled everything with skill and composure.
As she turned to leave, he said, “Come back.”
She returned and stood a short distance away. He looked up, closed his eyes, and repeated, "I don't like excessive talking." With his eyes, he motioned toward a dining chair. She pulled it out and sat quite far from him. He muttered a *Bismillah* before picking up a spoon, dipping it into the plate, and scooping some *tuwo* along with the spinach soup, which was richly prepared with chicken, fish, tripe, and cow skin. When he put it into his mouth, he closed his eyes tightly as he chewed. She looked up slightly to gauge his expression, but his face remained completely unreadable and stern. Seeing this, she cast her eyes down, feeling deeply sad. On General's part, apart from Ammah's cooking, he had never eaten food that captivated him as much as this. *A young girl with blessed hands,* he thought to himself. After nearly five mouthfuls, he paused and muttered under his breath, “Great cook.”
She looked up slightly, not having caught what he said, and uttered, “Uhm?”
He flashed her a stern look without saying anything, picked up the coconut juice, and drank. He closed his eyes again because it tasted delicious. However, he didn't drink much before wiping his mouth with a tissue, standing up, and heading toward his bedroom. Before closing the door, he called out, “Come here.”
Her heart skipped a beat, though she didn't suspect anything bad. She stood up and followed him into the room, offering a greeting before entering. She found him standing, about to take off his *jallabiya*. She quickly averted her eyes and clenched her hands together.
“Fix the beddings.”
Saying this, he headed into the toilet. He had already pulled off his *jallabiya* and left it on the bed, leaving him in just his boxers. Seeing that he had gone inside, she quickly stepped to the bed and began arranging it for him. It didn't take her long to finish making the bed and folding his *jallabiya*. She scanned the room looking for his closet, taking a moment to admire the space. It was much larger and more luxurious than hers—a true master bedroom. Her eyes landed on a photo frame beside the bed. She picked it up and stared at it. It showed a younger, handsome General next to an older man whom she presumed was his father, given how they were hugging and laughing. The sight brought a genuine smile to her face, causing her to lose track of time.
General, who had stepped out of the bathroom about two minutes prior, stood watching her with his hands on his waist. He had a small towel wrapped around his waist that barely reached his knees, and another smaller one in his hand which he was using to dry his hair. The way she smiled brought out a deep dimple he had never noticed before. He began walking toward her, drawn as if by an invisible force, and stood right behind her. Her scent filled his nose because he was standing incredibly close to her. Sensing a presence behind her, Amra gasped in fright. The frame slipped from her hands, but he swiftly slid his hands around her waist, pinning her against him as he bent slightly to catch the falling frame. She quickly turned her head, feeling his damp hands against her waist. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them to look at him. He kept his eyes locked on hers. They remained in that position for nearly a minute. He couldn't remove his hands from her waist because he was using both hands to cradle the caught frame. Amra's state of mind was indescribable; an unfamiliar sensation rushed through her being close to his back. She wanted to slip away, but she was trapped. As for the boss, he couldn't move because his towel had started to loosen when he bent down. He wanted to remove his hands from her waist but feared making a sudden movement that might cause an embarrassing display in front of the young girl.
Leaning his head down right by her neck and ear, he exhaled deeply, causing her to shut her eyes tight and clench her fists. He took another deep breath, as if about to speak, sending an unfamiliar shiver through her. Softly, like a whisper, he said, “Close your eyes.”
The eyes she had shut flew wide open. Seeing that she seemed completely dazed, he spoke a bit more firmly, “I said close your eyes.”
Startled back to reality, she shut her eyes tightly out of pure fear. Seeing this, he slowly turned his head away, holding the frame with one hand while securing his towel with the other. He let out a sigh of relief; just as he suspected, the towel was on the verge of falling off his waist. Stepping back, he took a long look at her back. *How curvy she is, giving him a hard time.* Knowing his own reacting state, he tore his eyes away from her entirely and barked, “Get out.”
She turned around slowly, her eyes slightly bloodshot. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. “Out!”
A strange feeling washed over her, and tears threatened to fall for no clear reason, as she assumed he was angry because she had almost broken his photo frame. She headed for the exit. As she opened the door to leave, she raised her voice slightly and said, “For God's sake, I am sorry, Yaya.”
He shot her a look that made her quickly pull the door shut behind her and flee to her room, tears spilling down her face.
As soon as she left, he closed his eyes tightly, still feeling the warmth of her body hitting his from when he stood behind her.
*(And I, the author, ask: Could it be that the General is falling in love? Lol).*
Ever since she left, he lay on the bed, pulling up his blanket which carried his scent. He hadn't put on any clothes because he felt a surge of emotions rising within him, while the doctor's words kept replaying in his mind.
Upon returning to her room, she lay down, reflecting on her life and the moment he had entered it. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she lacked the energy to get up, overcome by a strange lethargy whose cause she couldn't fathom. Immersed in her thoughts, a deep, sweet sleep eventually overtook her.
At 2:00 AM, a sharp, twisting pain flared in her lower abdomen. She sat up abruptly. It suddenly dawned on her that her menstrual period was on its way. She scrambled out of bed, opened her bag, and began rummaging for her medication. Despite searching everywhere, she couldn't find it. Panic set in as she remembered she had left it behind in Dubai inside her other office bag. Weak and helpless, the pain began hitting her in intense waves. She sat on the floor, curling her legs tightly against her body—her usual routine to find relief. What started as a minor ache escalated, and by 4:00 AM, she was completely incapacitated, unable to stand and pinned to the floor. She wept bitterly, as though mourning a death. She remained seated there until the call to prayer was made, at which point she felt the flow begin. She rushed to the toilet, spending nearly half an hour handling her business until she managed to put on her underwear and a sanitary pad. She couldn't even pull her trousers back on, choosing instead to wrap a towel around her waist. With great difficulty, she crawled back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, weeping bitterly. Her face was flushed red from intense physical agony. Gradually, her breathing grew shallow and labored, mimicking an asthma attack. She stood up to go to the toilet to splash water on her face—something she always did during such crises—but her legs gave out. She let out a loud, piercing scream before collapsing heavily onto the floor.
Amar, who was just passing by her room on his way to an adjacent room dressed in gym gear, heard her scream. He stared at her door to confirm if the sound had indeed come from there. Hesitating for a moment, he let go of the handle of the door he was about to enter and opened hers instead. The room was dark, save for a sliver of light peeking through the window. He fumbled for the switch and flipped it on. Seeing her sprawled helplessly on the floor, he panicked, unsure of what to do. Kneeling beside her, he called out, “Hey, hey.”
Sensing she was unresponsive, his heart sank. He touched her again and said, “Hey, Ayshaaaa.”
The way he pronounced her name felt completely foreign even to him. On the verge of losing his mind, he shook her again. As he attempted to lift her up, her towel slipped down. Completely oblivious to the falling towel, he carefully laid her on the bed and rushed into her bathroom. He scooped water into a bowl, returned to her side, and began gently dabbing her face, looking deeply concerned despite himself. She took a long, deep breath and opened her eyes, but a sharp cramp twisted her abdomen again, making her let out another agonizing scream. Seeing her state, he quickly reached into his shorts pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed the first number he could think of.
"Morning, sir," the voice answered.
Without waiting for a greeting, he barked, “I need doctors now, it's an emergency.”
Startled, Asad asked, “A doctor? Who is sick? Is it Ammah? Because judging by your voice, I know you are perfectly fine.”
Angrily, Amar snapped, “Just get me a f**cking doctor now!”
"Okay," Asad quickly hung up.
Amar applied more water to her face, but this time she fell into a deep faint, remaining unresponsive no matter what he tried. As he sat there waiting, the doorbell rang. He dashed out of the room and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the ground floor. Cutting off Nadine who was trying to explain, he ordered, “Let him in.”
She quickly turned back and ushered the doctor inside. Nadine led him right up to Amar before turning back. Amar extended his hand for a handshake before leading the way. When he opened her door, before stepping inside, he caught sight of her lying exactly as he had left her, realizing only then the state she was in, as he hadn't been in his right mind earlier either. He turned around abruptly just as the doctor was about to enter. Blocking his path, he blurted out, "Wait a minute," before quickly shutting the door behind him. He stepped to her side, staring at her, almost losing himself in her appearance. Jolted as if stung, he quickly pulled her duvet, covering her completely up to her face before saying, “Come in.”
The doctor stepped inside and walked straight to where Amar was standing before fixing his eyes on her. Amar gestured toward the bed, standing firmly with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in an Under Armour gym shirt. He dominated the space, causing the doctor to look back at his unreadable, stern expression. The doctor stepped closer, and Amar reluctantly nudged aside.
“What is wrong with her?”
"If I knew what was wrong with her, would I call you?" Amar retorted sharply, highly displeased by how the doctor was staring at her face.
The doctor let out a small smile, realizing that despite this man's immense pride and wealth, he had encountered someone even more unyielding. "I only asked so I can examine her properly." The doctor turned back to her, reaching out to adjust the duvet Amar had pulled tightly over her. Seeing this, Amar narrowed his eyes and barked, “Don't...”
“Just check her.”
“I can't check her just by looking at her face. I have to touch her to feel her pulse since she doesn't seem to be breathing properly.”
Amar scowled deeply, turning his head away as he stood over them. The doctor lowered the duvet slightly to observe her. He seemed briefly captivated by her appearance until Amar cleared his throat, prompting the doctor to quickly check her neck for a pulse. Finding her pulse incredibly weak, the doctor hurriedly opened his medical box and began administering emergency care. After finishing, he set up an intravenous drip, and her breathing normalized, indicating she had regained consciousness but fallen into a calm sleep. The doctor looked up and said, “She's stable now. Judging by her abdominal spasms, I am certain these are severe monthly menstrual cramps common to women. She will feel better in less than two hours.”
Gathering his tools, the doctor adjusted his glasses and asked, “Is she married?”
Amar raised his eyes slightly, staring at him. “No, why?”
“Well, it usually torments young ladies more, especially those who have never had intimacy with a man. There are medications she needs to take until she finishes her cycle. I will return later to check on her.”
Amar shot him a piercing, deadly look before turning his head away. "Thanks. Asad will handle your payment." The doctor bit his lip, turned around, and walked out.
The moment he left, Amar pulled out his phone and dialed. As soon as the call connected, he barked angrily, "Are you sure this is a certified doctor? Send someone else. I don't like perverts." Asad remained silent, completely unable to comprehend what Amar meant or what had triggered him, considering this was a top family physician. However, unable to argue with Amar, he simply replied, “Okay, sir.”
Amar returned to the room and sat by her bedside, noting how drastically she had changed in a short period. Turning his head away, he sat there for nearly an hour before standing up and sending Nadine in to keep watch over her. Even after returning to his room, he couldn't find peace, returning to her room more than three times within a single hour. She remained asleep for a long time—nearly four hours—due to the strength of the injection. She woke up around the time of Asr prayer. Finding the room empty, she closed her eyes and forced herself to sit up with great effort. Remembering her condition and fearing she might stain the bedsheets due to the heavy flow, she tried to stand up quickly. The moment she stood up, a wave of dizziness hit her. Coincidentally, Amar stepped into the room at that exact moment. His eyes immediately collided with her bare, smooth thighs. Before looking further up, he slammed his eyes shut. Forgetting her dizziness, she scrambled to grab a towel and wrap it around her waist. Taking a single step, she let out a cry as she nearly collapsed. In two long strides, Amar caught her, reprimanding her sharply, “Get your head straight! If you know you can't stand, why don't you just sit down?”