UNENDING

34- Roussillon

-ASIYA-

I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the silk of my pink Versace set. It was delicate, luxurious, the kind of outfit that made me feel like I could conquer the world—or at least, like I belonged in it. I paired it with white Oran sandals, simple diamond studs, and a few rings and bracelets. I always kept my jewelry minimal, just enough to catch the light but not so much that it felt like a burden. Tonight, we were going to dinner after a day of exploring Roussillon, and I wanted to look good. No, I wanted to look perfect.

Makeup wasn't really my thing. I'd never quite mastered the art of it, so I stuck with what I knew: a swipe of lip gloss, a little eyeliner to define my eyes. It was enough to make me feel polished without crossing into territory I wasn't comfortable with. Once I was satisfied with my look, I grabbed my bag and headed out to meet Al-Qasim in the living room of our suite. I could hear his voice before I saw him, a low murmur that usually brought me comfort. But something in his tone made me hesitate. I paused just outside the door, about to turn back and give him privacy, when his next words froze me in place.

"I am not divorcing Asiya. Nothing you say or do will make me change my mind, Mother, so please just stop this madness."

The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once. My heart pounded in my chest, and for a moment, I thought I might faint. I took a step back, as quietly as I could, retreating into the room like a ghost. My mind was racing. Divorce? His mother wanted him to divorce me? How had it come to this? Sure, I knew she didn't like me, but I never imagined she would go this far.

I paced the room, trying to calm myself. He had said he wouldn't do it, that nothing she could say would make him change his mind. I clung to that, repeating it over and over in my head. He wouldn't abandon me. He wouldn't. But still, the doubt lingered. His mother was a powerful force in his life, and I couldn't shake the fear that she might eventually wear him down. That she might convince him that I wasn't good enough for him, that I wasn't the right choice.

I felt my chest tighten, the tears threatening to spill over. No, I couldn't let him see me like this. I couldn't let him know that I knew. It would ruin everything. Ruin this beautiful trip, the balance we'd finally found. I took a deep breath, swallowing my tears, and forced a smile onto my face just as he walked in.

He was smiling, his eyes bright and warm. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice as calm as ever, as if nothing was wrong.

I nodded, slipping my phone into my bag and taking his hand. It felt so natural, so comforting, that for a moment, I almost believed everything was okay. We left the suite and stepped out into the vibrant colors of Roussillon, the red and gold landscapes of the ochre quarries and cliffs surrounding us like a painting come to life.

The town was beautiful, more than I had imagined. We strolled through the village center, stopping at art galleries and shops, picking up little trinkets here and there. Al-Qasim was in high spirits, snapping pictures of me against the striking backdrop of the cliffs, laughing as I posed playfully. It was easy to get lost in the beauty of it all, to forget the conversation I had overheard.

I let myself be swept up in the day, savoring every moment, every smile, every touch of his hand. We sampled snacks from street vendors, the flavors of the region bursting on my tongue, and wandered through narrow, winding streets that seemed to belong to another time.

As the day began to fade into evening, we made our way to La Grappe de Raisin for dinner. The restaurant was cozy and intimate, the kind of place where the food was as much a work of art as the scenery outside. We settled into our seats, scanning the menu, the quiet between us feeling comfortable—at least at first.