For three long, agonizing days, I've imprisoned myself in my home office, cutting myself off from the outside world. The cacophony of life carries on beyond these walls. Samila, the woman who has ignited a firestorm of emotions within me, moves about the house. Her presence is unmistakable, marked by the ethereal fragrance that clings to her like a cloak of enchantment. Every breath I take fills my senses with her delicious, heavenly scent. It's maddening.
In retrospect, my decision to remain hidden was a terrible idea, an act of self-inflicted torture. I ponder the alternatives I had – the option to occupy my time at the office or tend to matters at the plantation – anything to escape this torment. But no, I've chosen to lock myself in, avoiding her with every fiber of my being. I've per
