delves into the tumultuous world of the protagonist, whose seemingly idyllic life is shattered by the sudden arrival of a mysterious letter from her past. As she grapples with the venomous words penned by her old acquaintance, Hafsa, the protagonist...
The smell of pancakes wafted in, sweet and inviting, mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee. Mohammed was no longer next to me and his absence left a void, a reminder of the intimacy we had shared and the guilt still weighing heavily on my heart.
My body ached with passionate anguish. Every muscle was sore and fatigued, as if they had been twisted and stretched to their limits.
I stretched slowly, savoring the warmth of the bed and the comforting smell of breakfast. Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wrapped myself in a robe, and made my way to the kitchen.
There he was.
Mohammed stood in the kitchen, fresh from the shower, his dark curly hair still damp and glistening. Despite the baggy trackie he wore, his athletic build was evident, the fabric draping loosely over his toned muscles. His beard framed a chiseled jawline, adding to his rugged handsomeness. His dark eyes, full of warmth and depth, locked onto mine with a familiar, comforting intensity. The fresh scent of his sandalwood shampoo mixed with the natural musk of his skin, creating an intoxicating aroma that made my heart flutter.
''Morning'' he said
he flashed me his boyish smile as if he was a constant reminder of what a terrible girlfriend I was last night. As much as I wanted to enjoy the view, guilt kept pecking at my brain like a persistent woodpecker almost as if....it wanted me to tell him the real thoughts I was having last night...
His face began to contort with perplexity...
He says with a concerned tone ''are you okay...i know last night was a bit-''?
''No No.... just lost in thought it's not that deep don't worry'' I reply with false reassurance
But Mohammed knows me....probably sometimes more than I know myself which makes it harder to hide my feelings behind words that mean the opposite to what I'm ACTUALLY feeling.
''Okay?...well today I've got a shift so i wont be back till late is that fine''? he responds with reluctance
I should have been sad about this, about the prospect of spending the evening alone. But instead, as his words hung in the air, my mind traveled to the depths of deception. While Mohammed was away, my thoughts wandered to Diego, a forbidden fantasy that seemed to beckon me with every passing moment.
As I watched him, my heart heavy with the weight of my deceit, I couldn't help but imagine Diego's dark eyes, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. The guilt gnawed at me, but the allure of the forbidden was too strong to resist.
"Okay," I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil within me. "I understand. Go ahead, have a good shift."
But even as the words left my lips, my mind was already drifting, consumed by thoughts of Diego and the tangled web of deception that had ensnared me.
As Mohammed flashed me a cute smile, a pang of guilt shot through me, momentarily overshadowing the anticipation of his departure. His kiss on my head felt warm and comforting, a fleeting moment of affection amidst the brewing storm of deception.
With his business folder in hand, he left, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. I remained behind, alone in the quiet of the kitchen, surrounded by the remnants of his care—a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee, left untouched, sitting isolated on the table.
With a resigned sigh, I leaned forward and picked up the fork, my resolve momentarily faltering in the face of the tantalizing aroma wafting from the plate of pancakes. As I took my first bite, the warm, fluffy texture melted in my mouth, the sweetness of the syrup mingling with the rich flavor of the pancakes.
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