Confidant

The journey down the hallway seemed longer than before. Samira's heart was beating in her throat. David trailed behind her a few steps. She wasn't sure if he guessed what she was up to.

When she reached the bedroom, she opened the door but didn't cross the threshold. With one hand on the doorframe, she turned around. Out of habit, she lowered her eyes and realized that this no longer felt right. I don't have to bow down just because I'm a woman and he's a man. She looked up at her guest openly. She no longer saw him as a stranger. No, now he was a confidant. A person, perhaps the only person in the world, to whom she could reveal what was going on inside her.

Her thoughts were in chaos. She had nothing to guide her or hold on to. Nothing had prepared her for such a situation. And yet she knew one thing for sure: she wanted more out of her life than just being the invisible wife and housewife who disappeared behind her husband. She wanted to be seen.

“I had never brought anyone into this room before you came to check a connection,” she simply voiced the thoughts that came to her mind. "And then you made that connection just by scraping away the coating from old contacts. I didn't know something like that was possible. You removed obstacles that I didn't even know that they existed."

David tilted his head to one side. She could tell from his expression that he understood: she was no longer talking about Internet access.

Now she didn't hesitate any longer and crossed the threshold. The air smelled sweetly of roses, everything was fresh and clean, almost pristine. David took a deep breath as he entered the room after her.

Samira stepped to the window, pushed the curtains aside with one hand, and looked out at the city at night. A seemingly endless sea of lights stretched out before her eyes, swallowing the horizon. She could no longer perceive any boundaries.

The edge of the bed slightly sagged as she sat down on it. She watched as David took a few steps back to give her space and not intrude on her. In his gaze, which he did not avert from her for a second, there was no desire, but something almost like the reverence with which one regards a sanctuary.

“Is this what you really want?” His voice sounded grave.

Is this what I really want? she repeated in her mind, already knowing the answer. She didn't say it out loud, only her large dark eyes said: Please don't judge me.

He shook his head gently, as if he had read her thoughts.

Slowly, eerily calm, absolutely sure of herself, she placed her slender fingers on the buttons of her kamiz. One by one, she undid them. Like a blossom opening wider and wider. She felt like a desert flower that had been petrified in dryness for a long time and, moistened by a surprising, invigorating rain shower, could not help but bloom.

Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Otherwise, she sat still. Only her hands twitched, wanting to gather the fabric, to cover her unveiled body again.

“You are beautiful.” Honest, admiring.

The corners of Samira's mouth lifted, a smile like the promise of dawn.

She stretched out her hands, the gesture expressing both invitation and dedication.

David came closer, leaned toward her, and tenderly caressed her cheek. A first tentative kiss. Together they sank down. The world disappeared into mist.