𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

chapter 8

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"Tears come from the heart and not from the eyes."

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Aamirah’s eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy and disoriented. The familiar cold of the rain and the harshness of the pavement were replaced by a cocoon of warmth and softness.

As she blinked away the disorientation, the lavishness of her surroundings began to take shape. She was in a grand, elegantly furnished room, bathed in a warm, golden glow from a crystal chandelier hanging above.

The bed she lay in was enormous, with a canopy of rich, draped fabric that seemed to envelop her in its luxurious embrace.

The sheets and blankets were plush, their softness almost overwhelming in contrast to the cold rain-soaked clothes she remembered.

She was now wrapped in a plush robe, its fabric soft and comforting against her skin. The transition from the stormy street to this opulent space felt surreal.

Pushing herself up, Aamirah surveyed the room with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. The walls were adorned with ornate tapestries and exquisite artwork, and the floor was covered with an intricately patterned carpet that added to the room’s grandeur.

To one side, a large fireplace crackled softly, its warmth radiating through the room and adding to the overall sense of comfort.

Her head was still heavy with the remnants of confusion and fear from when she had lost consciousness. She tried to piece together the events leading up to her waking in such a place.

She remembered the accident, the oppressive rain, and the growing sense of despair that had overwhelmed her. Her heart had felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice, and then everything had gone dark.

Now, here she was, in a setting that seemed more like a dream than reality.

On a small table beside her bed lay a glass of water and a neatly folded note. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the note, her fingers brushing against the delicate, heavy paper.

Unfolding it, she read the words carefully: “You’re safe here. Rest and recover. Help will be available if needed.”

The note offered little in terms of answers, but it did provide a sliver of reassurance.

Her mind raced with questions: Who had brought her here? Why? And where exactly was she? The opulence of the room suggested someone with considerable means, but beyond that, she had no idea.

Currently she needed to get out of here, she has to go to the hospital, her sister is alone, her mother is weak, her baba is in dire need of treatment and here she is laying on a luxurious bed.

As she tried to stand, her legs felt weak and unsteady. She took a moment to steady herself, her hands gripping the edge of the bed for support.

She moved to the window, pulling aside the heavy drapes to peer outside. The rain was still falling, but the storm seemed distant now, the heavy clouds a gray blanket over the city.

The sound of a soft knock on the door startled her. A well-dressed servant entered, their demeanor calm and professional. They offered a polite smile and asked if there was anything she needed.

Aamirah’s voice was barely more than a whisper as she asked for more information about where she was and who had taken her in.

The servant responded with gentle assurance, explaining that she was in a private residence owned by a Al syeds.