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❝Angels don't lie, but you do. If I'm a devil, what are you?❞
When Burq loses his memory in an accident and doesn't remember his own wife anymore, Leyla finds it a chance to escape her beastly husband and pretends to be his friend...
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The dawn has barely cracked when sleep leaves him. He opens his eyes slowly, feeling as if he's floating in the air. This must be the drugs, he thinks.
His gaze collides with the darkness of the hospital room and instantly his heartbeat picks speed. He pushes up himself urgently and groans at the pain piercing his bones and skin, making him fall back down.
"Burq?"
Her voice sounds as if coming from a distant memory, yet it feels near. It soothes the ache in his vein. He's not alone.
"Leyla?"
She appears beside him and touches his forearm lightly. He can barely trace her figure. "I'm here."
"It's so dark," he points out, sounding almost scared. He shushes his heart. "Can you turn on a lamp?"
"Of course."
She goes to turn on one in the corner, the dim golden glow illuminating little but enough. He looks at her, finally able to see her.
She's standing near a prayer mat lying beside the wall. Burq frowns at her.
"What are you doing?" he asks, regretting his question right away. It's clear she was praying. "I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly, "for disturbing you."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I was done anyways."
He watches her pick up the prayer mat and loosens her headscarf. It's only them in the room, and he notices how she's easy around him— guarded with her words, but not with her body. This brings queries to his mind.
He then thinks: when was the last time he prayed?
"The doctor told me you were in pain last evening and they had to sedate you," she speaks, interrupting his thoughts. "How are you feeling now?"
"Better," he replies. "Does it mean I still can't go home?"
The possibility worries him. This room always feels like closing in on him. He wants escape.
"We'll know today after getting your reports," Leyla tells him, coming to sit on the chair beside him. The scarf slips down her head, resting on her shoulders, and the stray strands of her hair come forward to graze her cheeks. Burq blinks.
"When did you come?"
"Late in the evening."
"My butler told me you had to leave for work."
Something glimmers in her orbs. "You asked him for me?"
Burq refrains from scoffing. This woman was thinking too high of herself.
