"Owned by the Devil in White"
1075 Words
Morning broke cold, but inside Salima, a storm was boiling.
She was lying on the bed, playing with her necklace between her fingers, her mind drowning in the place she had sworn to forget. That bastard and what he did—she would never forgive. He fooled her, made her believe in things that never existed, made her trust lies wrapped in charm.
She sighed heavily, leaning her head forward, trying to escape the flood of thoughts chasing her. But suddenly…
“Brrrng… Brrrng…”
Her phone rang.
She exhaled and lazily reached for it. “Hello?”
“Salima! Where have you been hiding?”
Her aunt’s voice.
She sat up instinctively, raising her brows, confused by the sudden call.
— “Aunty? How are you?”
— “I’m fine, but tell me, is there somewhere you can stay away from your house?”
Salima laughed lightly.
Salima: “I’m trying…”
Fayrouz: “Don’t try anything. Go get ready. I want you to come over. Catch the first train, I’ll be waiting.”
Her brows furrowed.
Salima: “Come to you? Is something wrong?”
Her aunt paused, then said in a strange tone:
Fayrouz: “Do you remember Abdelghafour?”
Salima: “Abdelghafour?!”
She spaced out for a moment, then it hit her—
Salima: “The blue-eyed guy?”
Fayrouz: “Yes! That’s him. You remember.”
Salima tried to process the conversation, but her aunt’s words were making her dizzy.
— “Sweetheart, you’re single, beautiful—no way you're not catching every eye. Abdelghafour is serious!”
Salima rolled her eyes and chuckled:
— “Are you serious, aunty? Come on… he’s Amazigh! Not that I’m judging, but... do you even remember what he was like when we were kids?”
Her aunt burst into laughter.
— “What more do you want? He’ll bring you honey—real honey! And much more.”
Salima laughed, but deep down, her mind was spinning. Abdelghafour?! She’d heard a lot about him but never had a clear picture. Still, maybe this was her chance to get away from the mess.
She paused. Her mind raced, and a strange feeling bloomed inside her. She had tried for so long to forget the past. But this? This was different. Maybe this is the escape I’ve been waiting for.
Her aunt’s words echoed: “One decision can change everything.”
Maybe Abdelghafour was the way out—even if her heart still hesitated.
She got up, washed her sleepy, swollen face and red eyes, which ironically made her even prettier. She wore a white dress that reached mid-thigh, white sandals, tied her hair in a high ponytail, sprayed her favorite peach perfume, and packed a small bag that clearly said: “I won’t be gone for long.”
---
Meanwhile, across the street…
He stood by the window, shirtless, watching her door. He didn’t know why his legs moved when he heard her say over the phone:
Salima: “Aunty, I said I’ll think about it. We’re not even engaged yet.”
That was all it took.
He flew down the stairs, opened the door, and stood right in front of her.
She looked up—his hair falling over his face, those gypsy eyes burning into hers. Her gaze fell to his bare chest, inked with a massive snake wrapping around his right arm and shoulder.
Salima raised a questioning brow.
The man: “You’re getting married?!”
Salima: “What’s it to you?!”
He stepped in—his hand suddenly behind her head, pulling her closer by her ponytail.
The man: “You need to understand something. You. Are. Mine. Even the air you breathe belongs to me.”
Salima: “You’re insane! Let go of me, you psycho!!”
He pulled her hard, scooping her and her bag up effortlessly, slammed the door, and headed to his car.
Salima: “Let me go! You crazy jerk! Where are you taking me?!”
The man: “Shut up or I’ll shut you up myself.”
Salima: “Oh yeah? Show me what you’re gonna do—go on!”
He threw her into the car, locked it, tossed her bag in the trunk, and got in beside her. She turned away, crying quietly, resting her head on the window until she fell asleep. A shadow of a smile played on his lips.
He drove to the airport, parked under a luxurious villa, carried her and her bag inside.
Angela: “Hello Mr. Rafay.”
Rafay: “Is my room ready?”
Angela: “Yes, sir.”
He entered his room, placed her on the bed, and went to shower.
She woke up and quickly realized she wasn’t in her house.
Salima: “Where the hell—?!”
She jumped up, eyes wide, and gasped as he walked out shirtless, fresh from the shower.
Rafay: “Sleeping Beauty woke up?”
His tone was teasing, borderline mocking.
Salima: “You’re insane! I’m not staying here with a psychopath like you!”
Rafay: “Oh, you’re staying. Dream on if you think otherwise.”
She leapt from the bed, but he grabbed her midair, pulling her to his lap. She screamed from the impact.
She tried to escape toward the door—it was locked.
Rafay, voice low and dangerous: “Let’s see who can save you now.”
Salima: “You are out of your damn mind.”
He grabbed her hair again.
Rafay: “You want me to rip the truth out of you? TALK!”
Salima: “Psycho or not, I’m not yours!”
His palm struck her mouth lightly—just enough.
Rafay: “Watch your mouth.”
He tossed her on the bed, brought out some papers.
Rafay: “Sign.”
She read them, mouth agape.
Salima: “YOU ARE CRAZY! You want me to marry you? Are you drunk?! High?!”
Rafay: “You’re the drug that’s got me like this. Sign.”
Salima: “There’s NO WAY! What reason would I ever have to marry someone like you?! You w***e around with every trashy girl in town—”
Rafay: “How about I give you a reason—right now?”
He climbed over her. She struggled.
Salima: “OKAY OKAY! I’ll marry you!”
He leaned in close, whispering: “That’s more like it. You’re so hot when you obey.”
- Writer
