The Connection Is Reliable Now

Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft clatter of porcelain as Samira poured tea and handed David a cup.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice sounding reserved. He seemed cautious. Tense. His fingers gripped the saucer more tightly than necessary.

“I hope the connection is reliable now. If there are still any problems, I can check it right away.”

Samira smiled to herself. David still seemed to think it was just an internet problem. He didn’t understand what connection was really important to her tonight.

“Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

“You sounded... worried on the phone. I assumed you needed urgent help.”

She could see and hear how he was struggling with his words. He seemed to sense that something else had been the reason for her call. But he couldn't—or didn't want to—analyze it. And certainly not say it out loud.

She sat down opposite him. The fabric of her kameez—too light, too thin—brushed against her body, her arms, her legs. The hem slid up over her knees. Her skin tingled everywhere. Her fine hairs stood on end.

With every breath, she felt her breasts pushing against the fabric. Unfamiliar. New. Confusing. Arousing? She didn't dare look down to see if anything inappropriate was visible. Her cup jingled softly because her hand was shaking. She placed it on the rest of the chair.

They filled the silence by sipping their tea. The intense aroma of mint filled the air. The bitterness of the black tea was softened by the sweetness of the sugar.

The router hummed quietly in the background. Samira thought the pounding of her heart was louder. She almost feared that David could hear it. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to calm herself through sheer willpower.

David shifted restlessly in his seat. He cleared his throat and set his cup down on the side table with a clink.

“By the way, I found a socket.”

She looked at him blankly. David bubbled over. He spoke too fast, as if he wanted to cover up a certain nervousness.

"You probably remember that I cleaned the contacts of the old socket because I thought there were no more spare parts for this type. I searched our warehouse anyway. And sure enough, there was one lying around, still in its original packaging. If you want, I can come by in the next few days and replace it. You know, in the bedroom."

Bedroom. The only word Samira had understood. It rang like a thunderclap in her head. A wake-up call that drove her to action.

She stood up before she could change her mind. Then she hesitated. The echo of the word grew fainter. Bedroom. A few more heartbeats, then she could ignore it.

She reached out her hand. And, barely audible: “Come.”