Chapter 3 - Episode 1_ "Naomi and Anas, love and affection begin like this."
1126 Words
– The Beginning of Attraction
Ghadeh, the stepmother, treated her with a cruelty sharp enough to bruise the soul—no kind word, no gentle gesture, not even the slightest attempt to embrace Naomi, who was already living on the margins of endless losses.
As for her father, Sameh, he was nothing more than a faded presence—passing by his daughter like a shadow sliding across a wall, offering neither protection nor anger nor warmth… only a silence that wounded more than it shielded.
That particular night was no ordinary night;
it was the night something shifted inside Naomi.
She felt utterly alone…
No father, no mother, no embrace, no hand reaching for hers.
Even her tears had no shoulder to fall on.
She did not think of Anas much that night; exhaustion was stronger than every emotion.
---
The next day, at exactly one in the afternoon, a soft knock echoed on the door, as though coming from a distant world. Naomi rose slowly, weary, the traces of sleeplessness and worry still clinging to her eyes. She yawned, stretched her arms lazily, and walked with the unsteady lightness of someone emerging from a heavy sleep that cured nothing of the heart.
She opened the door…
And found Anas standing there, holding a bouquet of red roses, a small smile on his lips—part embarrassment, part longing.
In a gentle voice he said,
“Good afternoon, Naomi… how are you feeling today?”
She took the bouquet from his hands and murmured softly,
“Thank you…”
She lifted the flowers to her face to breathe in their scent…
but suddenly froze when she noticed small calming pills tucked discreetly between the petals.
She raised her head and looked at him for a long moment—a look whose meaning she herself could not fully grasp—before she said quietly,
“Come in…”
She stepped aside, letting him in, then closed the door behind him.
Anas stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit or how to begin. His nervousness was unmistakable. Naomi gestured toward the chair:
“Come… sit.”
He sat in the living room, giving her a moment of silence.
Meanwhile, she went to her room.
She stood before the mirror for a breath; her eyes half-asleep, her hair scattered, her clothes unfit for receiving anyone. She placed the roses on the small table, removed the pills and set them aside, then inhaled deeply.
She combed her hair carefully.
Changed into something simple yet elegant.
Sprayed a touch of perfume along her neck…
and then stepped out.
When she sat across from him, Anas looked at her with an unfiltered gaze—a gaze of admiration… or perhaps something just a little deeper.
In a low voice he asked,
“What happened last night? You looked really exhausted…”
His voice felt like a hand gently resting on her shoulder.
Feeling a rare sense of genuine concern, she told him what Sameh and Ghadeh had done, and how cruel the night had been. As she spoke, Anas’s expression shifted—concern sharpening into anger—before he said:
“I’m here… anytime you need me, you’ll find me. And I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His words were simple, yet they sank into her heart like warm light.
He left shortly after, leaving behind a comforting silence.
Naomi sat alone, thinking…
Thinking of Anas… of his care… of the way he made her feel seen, important, protected.
Admiration began to slip softly into her chest…
And her heart, without her noticing, began to move toward him—slowly, gently—drawn by something she could no longer deny.
- The Birth of Love-
The days weighed heavily on Naomi, burdened by something she could not carry, something that clutched at her chest. She lived alone in the house that felt smaller with each passing night, wandering through its walls like a spirit searching for shelter.
Her days offered nothing new… only endless solitude, and pain that reminded her of Samah’s harshness and Ghada’s cold heart.
She would wake, eat a little, remain silent for long stretches, then return to her bed, waiting for another day that would mirror the one before.
Yet… something different began to seep slowly into her mind. A name. Anas.
Each day, without intending to, he claimed a small corner of her thoughts—his quiet manner, his subtle attentions, his presence softening the weight of her silence.
---
One day, Samah decided to visit Naomi.
He entered the house formally, carrying nothing, offering no gift, no warm word. He sat for a few minutes, speaking sharply, as if she were a stranger unworthy of either anger or tenderness.
He showed no concern for her, no apology for the nights he had left her alone, then departed as he came… cold, hard, leaving no trace but his absence.
Naomi stood still for long moments after he left, as though the door he had closed had also shut her heart. Then she walked heavily to her room.
Her gaze fell upon the bouquet of flowers Anas had brought her days ago… now wilted, yet their fragrance lingered. She held them close to her nose, inhaling the last of their warm scent. There was something in that bouquet she had clung to… perhaps because it had been the only gentle touch in her recent days.
---
Minutes later, a soft knock echoed on her door.
She opened it… and found Anas standing there, as if he had arrived at the exact moment she needed him most.
He stepped in and sat, and Naomi still held the faded flowers in her hand. She began to speak in a broken voice about Samah’s visit, about the cruel words that had left her deeper in pain than before.
Anas listened with full attention; his eyes never left her face, and when he spoke, his voice carried a hint of restrained anger… wrapped in clear tenderness.
With every word Naomi spoke, something new was forming between them. It was no longer mere sympathy or friendship… it was closeness, a connection taking shape like two threads intertwining without their conscious realization.
In that moment, Anas revealed something he had never shown before: care that went beyond reason, lingering looks, a tone imbued with open affection.
And Naomi… she reciprocated. Her gaze changed, her voice grew warmer whenever she spoke his name.
Yet… there was a silent, unspoken barrier between them, a mystery neither dared to breach, as if announcing love before it had fully blossomed might shatter the moment.
They sat together, their conversation light and calm… but beneath the surface, what stirred between them was far deeper than words could capture.
- Writer
