At one point, he leaned back in his chair and asked, “Do you ever feel like people fall in love with an idea of you instead of the person you actually are?”
The question caught me off guard.
I laughed nervously. “That’s a strange thing to ask someone you’ve just met.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “But you look like someone who knows what I’m talking about.”
For a moment, I wondered whether he could somehow see through me.
I changed the subject, but his words stayed with me.
As the evening progressed, the attraction between us became difficult to ignore. We continued talking long after I had intended to leave.
There was something dangerously comforting about being with a stranger who knew nothing about my family or the reputation I had spent my life protecting.
He knew me only as Nour.
And I allowed myself to enjoy the feeling.
The night eventually became more intimate than I had planned. I made choices that belonged to me alone, without pretending they were something else.
