The moment they stepped back into the apartment, the scent of their abandoned mamoul cookies was a cruel reminder that their work was far from over. Zaid dropped the shopping bags filled with his "perfect" new clothes, hoping to collapse on the sofa, but his mother was already tying her hair back with a determined look.
"Okay, the fun is over," she announced, handing him a bucket filled with cleaning supplies. "The guest room first. While I go check under your bed."
Zaid groaned. "Mama, the guests won't check for dust under my bed."
"They will feel the cleanliness in the air," she retorted, pushing him toward the hallway. "And after that, we need to wipe down the top of the door frames and the inside of the cabinets."
"Who is going to check the top of the door frame?" he pleaded, his v
