The Gaze of Curiosity
For once, Abdullah grew bold. Driven by sheer curiosity, he stole a glance at the face of that rebellious woman, and what he beheld was a vision of Arabian beauty that dazzled the eyes.
She was bronzed, with a countenance as radiant as the sun, eyes lined with natural kohl, and a slender frame that exuded an overwhelming femininity. Neither tall nor short, she stood in perfect proportion—a belle in her rejection, in her response, and in every passing moment. Her beauty was that authentic Arabian grace born of the Hijaz; a sun-kissed complexion and a swaying elegance that no other woman on this planet could rival.
I cannot say for certain: was Abdullah truly captivated by her beauty? Or was it the age-old curse of craving what we cannot possess? Regardless, in that moment, Abdullah felt she embodied the very image of the beloved he had always dreamed of.
The Glowing Screen
One afternoon, while Abdullah was finishing his breakfast in the teachers' lounge, he hurried back to his classroom to tackle some overdue paperwork. Minutes later, he realized his phone was missing.
He rushed back to the lounge and found his phone screen lit up, as if someone had just been tampering with it. To the left, he saw Rowan standing there, her face flushed crimson with a guilt that suggested she had just been caught in an act. Abdullah reclaimed his phone without a word, but the scene haunted him. Why was the screen active? Why did she blush? Was she spying? Was she trying to steal it? The questions swirled, unanswered.
The Midnight Call
Days later, at eight in the evening on his way to the gym, Abdullah's phone rang—an unknown number. He answered, and a soft, feminine voice drifted through the line:
"Good evening... How are you, Abdullah?"
Startled and trembling—for he was a man unversed in such feminine shocks—he stammered, "I'm fine, welcome... but who is this?"
She let out a flirtatious laugh. "I won't tell you. You have to guess."
Her laughter eased his tension but paralyzed his thoughts. He excused himself, claiming the street noise made it hard to recognize the voice. It was a perfect out, sparing Rowan any embarrassment. She quickly replied:
"It's Rowan, your colleague. I wanted to ask you something important, but since you're busy, let it be for later."
But she wasn't looking for a brief chat; she was looking for an opening. The opportunity had arrived on a silver platter. "No, it's no trouble," he replied, but she insisted: "Could you just call me when you're back home?"
Abdullah was stunned. How could a woman so boldly ask a man to call her? Yet, the way she phrased it—respecting his time and his workout—made it seem perfectly logical. He agreed, his heart soaring.
The Transformation
That night, Rowan became his unintended trainer. Her voice cut his workout from ninety minutes to thirty. Her laughter robbed the "ascetic worshiper" of his reason.
He raced home, sat on his bed, took a deep breath, and dialed. No answer. He tried again ten minutes later. Silence. His conscience began to sting: Stop bothering her. Why are you calling a woman in her own home repeatedly, even if she asked you to?
He surrendered to his guilt and lay back, seeing nothing but her image. Had he been too late? Was she angry? How could he fail a woman's first request? Just as he began rehearsing his apology for the next morning, the phone rang. It was the "Rose" whose fragrance filled his thoughts.
Rowan apologized; she had simply been having dinner. At that moment, Abdullah was the happiest man on earth. All guilt evaporated.
"I thought you'd gone to sleep," he joked.
"No, I was just eating," she laughed.
She took the lead in the conversation, steering him where she wished. The call ended with a request: she wanted a specific template he used in his work so she could model hers after it.
The Search and The Encounter
Abdullah lunged at his desk like a SWAT team raiding a hideout. He spared no drawer. Papers and files were scattered across the floor as he demanded they reveal their contents. Finally, he found it.
He didn't know when he fell asleep or how he woke up; his only reality was Rowan. He dressed with meticulous care. Today, he wasn't just a teacher; he was the chivalrous knight responding to a princess's distress call.
He arrived early, clutching the papers, watching the clock until 7:45 AM—their designated meeting time. He walked into the lounge as if walking into a Valentine's celebration, his eyes gleaming with longing. He had perfumed himself with his finest scent and rehearsed his greeting a thousand times.
He entered. She was waiting.
He offered the greeting, intending to be eloquent, to perhaps slip in a word of flirtation he had practiced in his dreams. But the moment his eyes met hers, the words vanished. The "lover" within him retreated into silence.
All he managed to mutter was: "These are the papers you asked for. Here you go."
Rowan replied with a single, flat word: "Fine."
Silence fell between them. Abdullah stood there, frozen, unable to find a single letter to speak. She matched his silence with her own. Finally, he repeated his greeting as a sign of departure and walked away—ending his very first "romantic" date in a state of quiet bewilderment.