NELLIE AND NAOMI のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 129

The Next MorningThe following morning, Adel and Nelly stepped out of the chalet carrying their bags, heading toward the car. Adel stood at the rear of the vehicle, opened the trunk, and placed his suitcase inside. He reached for Nelly’s bag and set it beside his, then closed the trunk and walked to the driver’s door. He opened it, got into the car, sat behind the wheel, and shut the door. Nelly took the seat beside him.Saad emerged from the chalet carrying the baby in her arms and handed the child to Nelly. Nelly received the baby with a smile and said,“Thank you, Saad.”“Goodbye,” Saad replied.Nelly closed the car door. Adel said,“Goodbye, Saad.”The car pulled away, leaving the resort behind—leaving behind moments of joy, memories heavy with betrayal, and leaving Saad as well, who stood smiling, behaving as though nothing at all weighed upon her.Saad turned toward the chalet door, opened it, and went inside. She paused for a few seconds at the threshold, watching the car as it

Jenny entered the room, followed by Yasser and the doctor.Adham, standing beside Naomi, said softly,“Everything will be all right.”He leaned down, drew close to Naomi’s head, and kissed her on the forehead.Yasser and Jenny stepped out and closed the door, while the doctor moved closer to Naomi.“Good evening, Mr. Adham,” the doctor said.“Good evening, Doctor,” Adham replied, and they shook hands.The doctor approached Naomi, sat beside her, opened his bag, took out his stethoscope, and began examining her.Adham stood watching the doctor and Naomi, anxiety etched deeply into his features. He prayed the doctor would find a cure for Naomi. Every passing moment of the examination created a new spark of hope within him. Silence and anticipation filled the room—no sound but the restless beating of Adham’s heart, racing against the ticking of the clock. The doctor returned his instruments to the bag and stood up. As he did, the door opened and another doctor entered.The first doctor st

The Next MorningThe following morning, Adham and Naomi left the palace. Adham wore a sleek black suit, and Naomi wore an elegant, understated dress. Yasser sat behind the wheel of the car. He quickly stepped out, opened the back door, and Adham silently got in. Yasser then opened the door on the other side, and Naomi entered, also without speaking a word. Yasser closed the doors.Jana emerged from the palace carrying a travel bag. Yasser went to the back of the car, opened the trunk, took the bag from Jana, placed it inside, and closed it. He then walked to the driver’s door, got in, started the engine, and drove away from the palace. Jana stood there, watching the car, as if silently bidding Naomi farewell, before turning and reentering the palace.Meanwhile, Sarah came out of her room holding the crying child in her arms. She smiled, and Jana approached her. She stood in front of Sarah, gently playing with the child until he calmed down. Jana said softly, “It’s as if he senses his m

A New Morning in Paris — The Doctor Who Makes No Promises of MiraclesMeeting Dr. Laurent DuboisThe white corridor of the Parisian clinic felt longer than it should have—or at least that was how it seemed to Naomi.Her steps were slow, her hand tightly entwined with Adham’s, as if she feared this place might swallow her the moment she let go.They stopped before a glass door bearing a name engraved in calm, restrained letters:Dr. Laurent DuboisThe door opened to a man in his late fifties. His gray hair was neatly arranged, his glasses thin-framed, his features unmarked by false warmth. He did not resemble doctors who sell hope, but rather those who confront truth without embellishment.“Madame Naomi.Monsieur Adham,”he said quietly, extending his hand.Adham shook it. Naomi offered only a faint smile.They entered the office. The doctor sat behind his desk without attempting any comforting pretense.He spoke directly:“I will not promise you a miracle… but I promise you honesty.”

Evening descended over Paris with deliberate slowness,and the Seine flowed as it always had—indifferent to human sorrow, to their ages, their colors, their identities—a silent witness only to the emotions of lovers along its banks.They sat by the river, Naomi and Adham, close to the water,far from the noise,as if the city itself had decided to grant them more time for farewell,as if time had paused to gift them a few minutes of pure love.They remained silent, watching the trembling reflections of light on the river’s surface.Naomi pulled her coat tighter around her frail body.Then suddenly she spoke, her eyes fixed on the waters of the Seine,without turning toward him:“Adham… I’m not afraid of death.I’m afraid of leaving you.I love you so much.I’m afraid for you after I’m gone—as if I were leaving behind a child, alone after my death.”He nodded in silence.He turned toward her, his gaze taut, his heart racing ahead of his words, and said:“I can’t imagine my life with