5

She answered him in a soft voice that escaped her despite herself:

“Good morning, Uncle…”

And there, she swallowed the bitter lump that had formed in her throat at the memory of that word—the word she despised more than anything in the world, even more than Nader himself. She wished she could erase it from the alphabet forever, but in the end, she forced herself to say it, as though she were dragging bitterness from her throat rather than uttering a mere word.

“Good morning, Uncle Murad… I wasn’t doing anything. I simply didn’t notice you.”

He glanced at the time on his phone, then stepped down one stair and playfully pinched her cheek, treating her like one of the children in the house rather than a nineteen-year-old young woman.

“All right, beautiful. Come on. The sermon is almost over, and don’t forget to pray too.”

He walked away quickly, taking the remaining steps in hurried strides before she could even answer him.

“All right, my dear,” she murmured to herself.

Her steps slowed behind him, as though she were afraid to cross the distance between them—as though coming any closer might betray her eyes, which knew nothing but stealing silent glances at him.

She watched him with a longing that threatened to overwhelm her.

His broad back. Those strong, straight shoulders that spoke of a man carrying the weight of his days upon them. They seemed even more pronounced beneath the loose white galabeya he had chosen for Friday prayers. It reflected a simpler, more carefree version of him, one that only intensified the rugged allure that shattered her heart whenever she looked at him.

The white against his body was more than a mere color; it was a halo surrounding him, lending him an air of solemnity that seemed to belong to another world.

The folds of the galabeya fell softly over his shoulders, accentuating the masculine lines of his frame, as though they had merged with his very presence to announce a man who embodied masculinity in its purest, most unpretentious form.

His confident footsteps had a rhythm of their own, making a faint sound against the floor, as though every step carved a mark into the ground—and an even deeper one into her heart, which had known no peace since the day she came to know him.

It was astonishing how he could bring together two completely different worlds.

When he was a businessman, dressed in his impeccably tailored suit, authority seemed to be an inherent part of him. His elegant suit, enhanced by its silver buttons and a tie perfectly coordinated with the colors of his attire, reflected a man who commanded attention wherever he went. A man who spoke the language of numbers and plans, a man of such stature that everyone around him felt they were standing before a leader who was not to be underestimated.

Those moments stole her heart every time.

Yet she had never realized that her heart would become even more defenseless when she saw him like this—in that simplicity that belonged to the world of the old neighborhood.

In that white galabeya, he looked handsome enough to frighten her for the sake of her little heart, as though his simplicity added a radiance that no luxurious clothes could ever achieve.

Her mind drifted back to all the times she had seen him dressed differently, but she realized now that this simplicity was the one that affected her most.

She followed the graceful flow of the fabric over his body as though it were a carefully painted portrait, watching how the movement of his body beneath it revealed a masculine strength that needed no proof.

The shape of his shoulders. The slight curve of his back whenever he spoke to someone or leaned down to fix something. Even the way he stood, as though the ground beneath his feet belonged to him alone.

How could such tiny details become so devastating?

She suddenly realized that she was standing there, frozen in place, while he continued moving ahead, completely unaware of everything happening inside her.

Warmth crept into her face, not because of the sunlight filtering into the alley, but because of her thoughts.

How could the sight of a man’s back beneath a simple galabeya stir such an overwhelming amount of longing and passion?

She tried to gather the scattered pieces of herself, but those details showed her no mercy…

She felt as though she were drowning in a sea of emotions, a sea from which only the steps that kept her at a safe distance from him could save her.

Yet, deep down, she knew that no matter how hard she tried, that distance would never protect her from his effect on her—an effect that stretched across time and space, keeping her heart captive to him, always and forever.

❈-❈-❈