Soroush and Ms. Mohebbi

The Stormy Night in the Next Unit (Soroush's Perspective)

The rain started softly in the early evening, a melancholic autumn rain accompanied by a cold wind. Around nine o'clock at night, I, Soroush, a twenty-four-year-old writer of average height and slender build, was sitting at my small wooden desk, my fingers barely gliding across the keyboard. My new story wasn't progressing; it was as if the stormy weather had carried away my inspiration. But the real reason for my unease wasn't the writing, but the distant rumble of thunder that grew closer with each passing moment. Since childhood, I had been afraid of storms, a deep and subconscious fear that gripped my entire being with every loud sound from the sky. My heart pounded, and a feeling of insecurity, like a cold shadow, crept through me.

The intensity of the rain and wind increased moment by moment. The windows howled, and the sound of tree branches hitting the glass was like a series of knocks on the door of my cage of fear. A flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the sky, and the deafening roar of thunder was so close that my whole body trembled. In that small, silent apartment, the feeling of loneliness and helplessness weighed on my chest like a heavy blanket. Unbidden, unpleasant childhood memories flooded my mind – hiding under the bed and shivering with fear in the darkness. I couldn't take it anymore. Anxiety, like a cold claw, tightened around my throat, and my breath grew shallow. I paced aimlessly around the room, like a trapped bird, unsure where to seek refuge.

Suddenly, the image of Mrs. Mohebbi, the kind neighbor from the next unit, flashed into my mind. Mrs. Samira Mohebbi, a middle-aged woman of tall stature and ample build, who always greeted me with a warm and sincere smile. Her presence always exuded a sense of security and calm. On a sudden impulse, born out of desperation, I went to my apartment door and opened it. I walked through the dark and silent hallway and stood in front of Mrs. Mohebbi's door, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Hesitantly, I raised my hand and pressed the doorbell. The moments of waiting stretched out like an eternity, and the sound of the storm outside amplified my fear with each passing second.

Finally, the door opened with a soft sound, and Mrs. Mohebbi appeared in the doorway, the traces of sleep still visible on her face. A soft light from inside her apartment spilled into the hallway. Seeing her in a thin bikini, her pregnant belly clearly visible, I was slightly taken aback and embarrassed. In a voice that I tried to keep from trembling, I said, "Hello, Mrs. Mohebbi. I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour."

Mrs. Mohebbi replied with the same warm and calming smile as always, "Hello, Soroush jan. What's wrong, dear? Why are you here so late? Are you alright? You're soaking wet!" For a moment, I was silent, then said with embarrassment, "Actually... um... well... actually..." My gaze darted away from her kind face. She asked with patience and understanding, "Is there something you need, Soroush jan? Don't worry, feel free to tell me." I took a deep breath and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Ah... yes." "Well, what do you need, dear? Tell me," her voice was warm and sincere. I hesitated again and said with even more embarrassment, "Um... actually... I'm scared." Mrs. Mohebbi looked into my eyes with a kind and understanding gaze and asked in a calm and reassuring voice, "Are you scared, Soroush jan? You're afraid of the storm, aren't you?" My cheeks flushed, and with my head bowed, I replied softly, "Yes."

Mrs. Mohebbi gave a comforting smile and extended her hand towards me. "Come in, dear, come in. I'm alone too. Let's stay together until the storm passes." With gratitude, I took her hand and stepped into her warm and bright apartment. The heavy sound of rain and the rumble of thunder echoed from outside, but her presence eased my fear slightly. Holding my hand, Mrs. Mohebbi led me to the living room. I noticed that all the windows were open, and the curtains were swaying wildly in the wind. The scent of damp earth and fresh rain filled the air. We sat on the sofa that was directly facing the window. Mrs. Mohebbi offered me a cold soda. My hands were icy, and she noticed. When she asked what was wrong, I could barely bring myself to say that I was afraid of loud noises. She said with a comforting smile and a motherly tone, "Come sit on my lap, dear. You'll be warmer and more comfortable this way." I was hesitant at first and said I was fine there, but she gently took my arm and said, "Don't be silly! Come here, just like when you were little and afraid of the dark, you'd come to me." She shifted slightly and gestured to her lap. With ****, I got up and sat gently on her lap. The warm and soft feel of her legs eased some of the tension in my body.

Her right hand gently rested on my soaked back, and she stroked it softly, trying to calm me. Her left hand rested on her pregnant belly, and she said with a kind smile, looking into my worried eyes, "Look how beautiful the storm is, Soroush jan? These sounds, these lights... it's all so amazing." My voice still trembling slightly, I asked, "Aren't you scared? These sounds are so frightening." Mrs. Mohebbi replied with a heartwarming laugh, "No, dear, why would I be scared? I'm in my home, a safe place. There's nothing to fear. It's just a powerful display of nature. Think of it as a loud guest." Then she gestured to her belly and said she was seven months pregnant and asked me to place my hand on it. I felt a gentle warmth beneath my trembling fingers. "It's warm," I said with surprise. She laughed and said there was a little creature moving inside. Then she said she had been reading stories to the baby before I came and suggested I rest my head on her chest so she could tell a story to both of us. The steady beat of her kind heart and the soothing tone of her voice gradually chased away my fear.

The storm continued with all its might. After a while, Mrs. Mohebbi noticed I was soaked and suggested a warm shower. Although I was embarrassed, I felt I needed the warmth of the water. She took me in her arms, and we went to the bathroom. Still holding me, she took off my wet clothes. She also removed her bra, and we stood under the warm shower. I felt a pleasant sense of calm. The warm water washed away the tension from my body. I was worried that she might be tired in her condition, but she laughed and said I was very light and this was good practice for holding her baby. When she playfully pinched my nose and said I was frowning, I felt a little embarrassed. I said that it was true I was scared, but I was a man. She laughed and said that's why I was in her arms, and with a playful tone, she looked down at my lower body and said it was very small. When I suggested getting down, I heard the loud sound of wind and rain again, and I got scared and asked to stay there. She laughed and said it turned out there was no safer place than her embrace. While we were under the shower, she noticed my gaze and asked gently if I wanted "mama." She said with a kind tone that we would have some after we got out. I felt a strange mix of calm, embarrassment, and gratitude. That stormy night, I had found an unexpected refuge for my fear.

The Stormy Night in the Next Unit (Samira's Perspective)

I loved storms; the roar of the sky, the untamed power of nature, always stirred a sense of liberation and awe within me. I had opened all the windows to let the sharp scent of rain-soaked earth and the coolness of the droplets that kissed my face fill every cell of my being. I sat on the living room sofa, watching with delight the wild dance of the tree branches in the wind and the rhythmic drumming of rain against the glass, my hand resting on my rounded belly. Seven months – it was starting to feel heavy, but the sensation of life growing inside me made all the discomfort sweet.

Around nine o'clock at night, the doorbell rang, breaking the pleasant silence of my home. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Who could it be at this stormy hour? I cautiously went to the door and looked through the peephole. Soroush! Our young, quiet writer neighbor. His face was pale, and raindrops glistened like tiny pearls on his wet hair. A cold shadow of worry fell over my heart.

I opened the door and asked in a voice I tried to keep gentle and calm, "Mr. Soroush? So late... has something happened? You're completely soaked!"

Before he could answer, a deafening clap of thunder echoed through the air, and Soroush, involuntarily, clung to me like a frightened child. His whole body was trembling, and I felt his icy, shaking hands gripping my shoulders. I understood. He was scared. I had heard him mention his fear of storms in passing a few times.

Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around his shivering form and guided him into my warm home. "Come in, dear... don't be afraid... it's safe here. Hurry up before you catch a cold." I could feel how cold and wet his clothes were. I led him to the living room and sat him down on the sofa, sitting beside him and taking his hand.

"What's wrong, my dear Soroush? You're so frightened?" I asked in a soft, caressing voice. He could barely bring himself to say that he was afraid of loud noises and that he was alone. My heart ached for him. This delicate young man, so **** against the fury of nature. A maternal instinct surged within me.

I squeezed his hand and said, "Come sit on my lap, dear. You'll be warmer and more comfortable this way." He was hesitant at first and said he was fine there, but I gently took his arm and said, "Don't be silly! Come here, just like when you were little and afraid of the dark, you'd come to me." I shifted slightly and gestured to my lap. With ****, he got up and sat gently on my lap. I could feel the warmth of his body even through his wet clothes, and the trembling in his small frame eased

[slightly.

My

](http://slightly.My) right hand gently rested on his soaked back, and I stroked it softly, trying to soothe him. My left hand instinctively rested on my rounded belly, and I looked into his worried eyes with a kind smile and said, "Look how beautiful the rain is, Soroush jan? These sounds, these lights... it's all a kind of show!"

His voice still trembling slightly, he asked if I wasn't scared. I chuckled and said, "No, dear! I'm in my home, a safe and sound place. There's nothing to fear. It's just a bit loud, that's all." Then I gestured to my belly and said, "This little one is listening too! Seven months along. Come, put your hand here, can you feel it?" When he felt the gentle movements of the baby beneath his trembling fingers, his eyes widened. "It's warm!" he said with surprise. I laughed and said, "My sweetie! There's a little one wiggling inside!" Then I said in a more intimate tone, "I was reading him stories before you came. Come, rest your head on my chest, so both of you can hear a nice story."

The storm continued with all its might. After a while, I noticed his clothes were completely soaked, and he must have been cold. With affection, I suggested a warm shower. Although he was a little embarrassed, I felt he needed the warmth. I took him in my arms, and we went to the bathroom. Still holding him, I took off his wet clothes. I also removed my thin bikini top, and we stood under the warm shower. The warm water felt comforting. "Are you alright, dear? Are you warm now?" I asked gently. He nodded, saying it felt very good. I was worried I might get tired, but he was very light. "My quiet little boy! This is also good practice for holding the baby!" I said playfully and gently pinched the tip of his nose. "Look at that frown for his auntie! Don't you like being in my arms?" He said with a bit of embarrassment that he was just scared of the storm. I laughed and said, "So that's why you came to my arms, right?" Then I looked down at his lower body with a teasing smile and said, "You're still such a little boy!" When he got embarrassed and wanted to get down, I said, "Alright, sweetie, you're all washed now. Go into the living room, and I'll bring you a towel." But as soon as he heard the sound of the wind and rain again, he said with fear, "No, please... I'm fine here... with you..." and instinctively snuggled closer to me. I chuckled and said, "Bless your fear! See? There's no safer place than Auntie's embrace!" While we were under the shower, my gaze involuntarily fell to my breasts, and I asked gently, "Do you want some 'mama,' sweetie?" and said softly, "Alright, dear, stay under the shower a little longer to get nice and warm, then we'll go." A strange maternal feeling had awakened within me. I wanted to hold this delicate young man in my arms until morning and chase away all his fears. This stormy night had filled my heart with a deep affection and a peculiar sense of motherhood. I felt that in those moments, Soroush was more than just a neighbor; he was like a child in need of love and security, and I wanted to give him that feeling with all my being. Those sudden embraces, those unintended touches, all took place in a context of fear and need, and as a woman and a human being, I couldn't remain indifferent to that need. My pregnancy had also strengthened this maternal and caring instinct within me, and Soroush had unknowingly become the recipient of that feeling. In those moments, he had transformed into a frightened child in need of shelter, and I wanted to provide that safe haven for him with all my heart. His trembling voice, his fearful gaze, all tugged at my heart and awakened a deep sense of care and protection. This wasn't just a stormy night; it was a moment where the boundaries of neighborliness blurred, and a deep human connection was formed.