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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Fortress Lovrijenac, Dubrovnik – 4th June 2018
IT'S LIKE A FATAL STAB to the guts to look at him again, smirking, normal like he has never wronged anyone. Her self-respect has been rammed over by a bulldozer when she accepted the bottle of cold water from him.
She's been too thirsty. Her sole option has been to shatter her dignity and accept the aid.
Tears filled her eyes. She hid them by wearing her cheap sunglasses. She had bought it at a half price shop as it looked cute except she's been avoiding wearing it because of the wealthy fellow travelers.
It's a scorching day in the crowded city. Her breath came short winded. Throat parched and sultry air moved over her dry tongue. Her footsteps turned lethargic. Drops of sweat trickled down her back.
With one bigger gulp, the bottle is emptied. She threw it in a bin and followed her brothers still slower compared to their large strides. Though she'd wish nothing more than to take off her tennis shoes, sat at the pier and soak her feet in the clear water.
To reach the giant stone fortress, they have to walk round the harbor and climbed stairs. It sits high on a hill overlooking the sea. A group of two walking the opposite direction claimed in their loud conversation that it was built for the defense of western Dubrovnik from sea attack.
Slowing her gasps, she took one step at a time on the cobble staircase. Her brothers and Hayat were a minimum of ten steps ahead of her while Emraan is behind. His shadow would often be projected beside.
A little higher is a sparse forest with engaged benches. Disappointed, she continued her ascent.
The fiery sun shone with all might against the arctic blue sky. The exposed part of her one shoulder has changed color. It's inessential to say that there will be an irregular oval on her skin now.
Stupid off shoulder top, Myra rolled her eyes. She should have stick with plain white or black T-shirt. They are always a classic and can be embellished with simple jewelry.
A sudden scream burst out of her mouth when something brushed against her legs. She slapped her palm over her mouth, glaring at her brothers who had turned at once. Then they smiled.
"It's just a cat," Zaynoul announced, hiding his laughter.
But Myra's heart raced faster and loud gasps for air came out of her burning throat as Emraan's firm hand rested on her clothed shoulder. Universe has sent a mischievous déjà vu at her. Last time it was a cold day in a wintery Paris. She said 'merci,' an easy French word, standing for thank you. He had figured her exhaustion and carried her in his arms, climbing all those stairs at Montmartre.
She's once been quite shy under his gaze.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
Annoyed, Myra whirled and faced him. He pulled his hand back, gazing at her. There are many things she wished to lash out at him. Curse, profanity, slap him across the face, grabbed his collar and threaten him; the list is endless. Nonetheless she composed her muddled mind with a long deep breath.
