Her Awakening

Chapter 32: Awakening to 29!

I woke up on December 27th with a rush of excitement—the kind that fluttered in my chest like it hadn't in years. It was my birthday—our birthday—and Jalal would be landing any minute now. I glanced at my phone, re-reading his last message from the night before: **"Can't wait to see you, Princess. Gonna be a wild one tomorrow 😏."**

I smiled, rolling over in bed, stretching in the quiet of the early morning. The winter chill pressed against the window, but inside, I felt a warmth bubbling up. I couldn't believe I was turning twenty-nine today. Twenty-nine felt different, like I should be more grown-up, yet here I was, still figuring things out. Jalal was turning 35, and we'd laughed about how "old" we were getting on the phone last night. We joked about how we hadn't done half the things we thought we'd do by this point. Somewhere in that conversation, I confessed there were experiences I'd missed—clubbing, weed, wild adventures in my twenties. Strict parents, the pressure to be the perfect daughter—it all held me back.

Jalal, in his usual spontaneous way, had immediately decided that was about to change. "You've never been clubbing? Princess, we're fixing that tomorrow. You and me. Dancing, drinking until we can't walk, the whole deal. I'm taking you out. No going home until you've had the wild night you deserve."

Ridiculous, spontaneous, and so us—and I loved him for it.

I spent the morning with the kids and my parents. They came over later in the day, with my mom preparing a big birthday breakfast for me. We sat together, eating, laughing, and sharing stories. At one point, my dad got emotional, telling me how proud he was despite the rocky patches between us lately. We hugged it out, and I could feel the love, even in the midst of all our differences. After breakfast, we cut the cake, and for a moment, everything felt simple, joyful, just like it used to be.

By the afternoon, I hinted at my plans for the evening. I could tell they were curious—wondering if there was someone new in my life—but they didn't push. We'd established those boundaries, and I was grateful for it. They packed the kids' bags for a week, waved goodbye, and left me alone with a day full of possibilities.

With the apartment now quiet, it hit me—I had no idea what to wear. It wasn't like I was a regular at clubs. When was the last time I'd bought something sexy enough to go dancing in? I hadn't worn anything remotely wild in years.

In desperation, I FaceTimed my younger cousin Ava, hoping for fashion help. She answered on the second ring, her face scrunched up, clearly half-asleep.

"Happy birthday, cuzzy! What are you doing calling me so early?" Her voice was groggy but curious.

"It's afternoon, Ava," I said, rolling my eyes. "I need help. My new man is taking me out clubbing tonight, and I have no idea what to wear. Emergency fashion crisis."

Her sleepy eyes lit up instantly. "Wait—you? Clubbing? Divorce looks *good* on you! And that hair! Okay, okay. First thing's first. You need to wear something that makes you feel sexy. The sluttier, the better."

I groaned. "I have nothing even close to that."

"Raid your closet, girl, and send me options. I'm not letting you go out in something 'mom chic.' You're the birthday girl. You need to turn heads tonight."

I scrambled to pull out a few dresses I had tucked away, holding each up to the camera. Ava's eyes gleamed when she saw the red one. "That red dress? Sis, that'll have you pregnant again by the end of the night!"

Laughing, I shook my head. "God forbid. Let me enjoy my freedom a little bit first. Green it is."

"The green? No way, too safe. You've got to wear the red. Your new man is going to be sweating all night."

After more back-and-forth banter and hysterical laughter, I finally settled on the red dress.

By the time Jalal arrived, I was ready. I slipped into the backless red bodycon dress, paired it with strappy heels that made my legs look impossibly long, and kept my makeup simple yet sultry, with a bold red lip. As I stood in front of the mirror, I felt a tiny flicker of doubt—was this too much? But before I could second-guess myself, there was a knock at the door.

When I opened it, Jalal stood there grinning, his arms full of gifts, a balloon poking out from behind his shoulder. But when his eyes landed on me, his smile faltered, replaced by something deeper—admiration, and hunger. "Wow... Princess," he murmured, his voice warm, teasing, but with an edge of desire. "Wow, and the hair? When did you do this?"

Blushing, I stepped aside to let him in. "Last week. Wanted to surprise you. Do you like it?"

He stepped closer, cupping my face in his hands before pressing a kiss to my forehead and lips. "You look beautiful. That dress is... sinful."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Thank you, babe. And you look very handsome—still not a day over 35." We laughed at our shared inside joke. "Happy birthday."

After setting the gifts down, Jalal handed me a birthday card with a bow on it. "Open them later. For now, I just want to look at you." His gaze swept over me as he turned me around, admiring the back of my dress. "We don't have to go out tonight," he suggested with a playful smirk.

But I wasn't about to let him derail our plans. "Nice try," I teased, handing him his gifts.

His face lit up when he saw the leather wallet, running his fingers over the embossed initials. But it was the photo book that made him pause, his eyes softening as he thumbed through the pages filled with memories and handwritten poems I had penned for him beneath each picture. The watch, engraved with our initials, completed the set.

"This is... wow, babe. Thank you." He kissed me again, lingering longer this time. I could feel the warmth between us growing.

The night was everything Jalal had promised. He'd booked us a private section at the club, giving us space away from the swaying crowd. The music was loud, the bass thumping beneath our feet as lights flickered through the room. We started with drinks—I opted for a fruity cocktail, while Jalal went with his classic whiskey on the rocks. After our first sip, he pulled me straight onto the dance floor.

At first, I felt awkward, unsure of how to move to the heavy beats of house music. "Don't overthink it, just move," he whispered into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as he turned me around so my back pressed against his chest. We danced, our bodies swaying in sync, his hands guiding me. I felt weightless, the alcohol taking the edge off, the music carrying me into a blissful, carefree state.

"Ever done shots before?" he asked, shouting over the music.

I shook my head, and within minutes, Jalal had ordered a round for us—four shots. He demonstrated, tossing one back easily, though he winced slightly. "Only because I love you. I'm way too old for this," he joked.

I followed his lead, coughing immediately as the sharp burn hit my throat. Jalal laughed, patting my back as I struggled to recover. "Good girl," he teased, and I blushed at the compliment.

The night blurred into a series of laughter, dancing, and reckless abandon. At one point, Jalal ordered shisha to our booth. I'd never tried it before, but he coached me through it, the strawberry-scented smoke swirling between us as we blew it into each other's mouths like teenagers in love.

By the time we left the club, we were both ridiculously drunk, stumbling into a taxi, laughing and leaning on each other. But the party wasn't over yet.

Back at Jalal's house, the music kept playing. We stumbled around his living room, laughing hysterically as I teased him with a half-hearted strip tease, swaying my hips and struggling to unzip my dress without falling over. Jalal sat back on the couch, eyes gleaming with amusement as I finally stripped down to my lace underwear.

"You're terrible at this," he teased, pulling me onto his lap, kissing my neck. "But you're also the sexiest woman alive, so I'm not complaining."

In the soft light of his living room, the laughter melted into something more intimate, more tender. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to his bedroom where the wildness of the night unfolded into wilder adventures in the bedroom.

Twenty-nine had never felt so good.