It's a crazy idea of mine...
A sharp taste, stinging, burning, and bitter as well... yet... inspiring....
My thoughts are crowded with it all the time, revolving endlessly around its characters...
So what kind of taste will it be for you?
Don't Force Me to Love You 💕
BY Issam Dlifa
Who among us doesn't dream of finding the love they wish for? And who among us doesn't search for it? When we dream of love, we imagine a beautiful pink world where we live happily, our hearts soaring in its sky, surrounded by words of romance and longing...
But is that really the reality of lovers? Does every heart that falls in love find someone who returns the same feelings? And is love alone enough for us to live in peace, comfort, and happiness? Or are there other priorities...?
Of course, once we come down from that pink dream world into our real world, we find a huge difference. We are met with a very bitter reality...
This time, our story, no matter how much imagination it contains, also carries a lot of reality. Its characters represent me, represent you, and represent so many girls. It speaks about many things we try to close our eyes to... but for how long? How long can we keep pretending to forget?
Read between the lines, and pay close attention... maybe you will find your own problem there, and its solution too.
Don't force me to love you when you know with certainty
that you do not know how to return love with love.
Don't force me to love you let me be the one to choose.
Let me be the lady of the decision.
If your heart is a paradise, I will gladly find my way to it,
and if you are fire, then I seek refuge in God from you, I do not love fire.
Don't force me to love you, and be truthful in your promises.
Let me choose, for perhaps you may be the one I choose.
Don't force me to love you...
instead, compel my heart, for it is the true master of the decision...
Don't force me into the hell of your bed,
for that is not your decision to make.
Don't force me to love you...
and let me say at the top of my voice:
this is the man my heart has chosen.
She sat in her room, listening to the violent thunder and lightning outside, sounds she feared more than anything, sounds she simply could not bear. She felt hemmed in, smothered, as though the walls were closing around her, and her heart beat so hard it felt ready to burst.
Winter, in all its length and weight, had always terrified her. She could never understand how some people claimed to find comfort in that season, while she wished the whole year could be spring. Perhaps it was because she herself had been born in spring. Even her nature resembled it: gentle and balanced, though at times she could flare up, just as even spring carries its own sudden dust storms now and then. Such is the nature of the weather, and such is the nature of human beings.
That night, she was spending it alone at home. There was a wedding on her mother's side of the family, and her father had gone to take her there, since the celebration was outside the city and he would never allow her to travel by herself.
Then she heard the front door, as if someone were opening it and shutting it again. In that instant, her whole body went rigid. Yet despite the dread rising inside her, and despite the certainty that something about this was not right, there was still a hidden strength in her. She lowered her feet to the floor, slipped them into her slippers, stood up, and moved forward little by little. Just as she was about to reach the door, the call to the dawn prayer rose into the air.
It was as though all the other sounds vanished at once. She exhaled slowly and looked toward the window. The lightning still flashed across the sky, but the adhan eased her fear and gave her a measure of calm.
She knocked on the door and slid the iron bolt into place, hoping to quiet at least some of the fear stirred by the thoughts racing through her mind. But just as she turned her head toward the window, she caught sight of a masked figure passing beside the door and peering in through the glass.
In a single terrified motion, she shut her eyes. When she opened them again, there was nothing there. Gone as quickly as a grain of salt dissolving in water. She told herself she must have imagined it, or that the storm had unsettled her. Perhaps they were only illusions, conjured by a mind worn out from thinking too much.
But... how could all this be fear? When has Mohra ever been afraid or intimidated by anyone? But then again, anyone in her place would be terrified.Midnight... darkness... the wind whipping through the trees, making that eerie sound... plus the lightning and thunder that have terrified her since she was a child. All of this, and then seeing someone watching her from outside, of course she'd be scared!She sought refuge from the devil several times and recited Ayat al-Kursi, trying to calm that overwhelming sense of fear.
She read it over and over, once, twice, three times, until she began to feel a bit better. But her curiosity wouldn't let her stop thinking about the person she saw, even if it was just an illusion or a figment of her imagination. His face wasn't clear; she only saw his thick black beard and his massive frame. She forced her eyes open, trying to drive his image from her mind, but it was no use. That's how it is for people who overthink everything the big things, the small things, even the simplest details.She spent the rest of the night struggling to get through it, and only managed to fall asleep with great difficulty as morning approached. As soon as she woke up, she went straight to get dressed. she wore tight leather pants with a black turtleneck and layered a denim jacket over them. She grabbed her bag and headed straight to the kitchen. She thought her father would arrive early, but he was late. She made her breakfast without waiting for him, ate, and left his portion covered for him on the kitchen table before heading out. She was scrolling through her phone when she received a call from her mother.
Mohra: "Hey, Drissia... you're really checking up on me, huh?"
Drissia (The Mother): "Good morning, my daughter. It's my fault for not teaching you proper manners.
"Mohra: (Laughing softly as she signaled for a taxi) "Hahaha, good morning, my dear mother. So, tell me... how's the weather over there?"
Drissia: "Oh, the weather is beautiful. You can't get enough of the countryside air... honestly, it's so fresh."
Mohra: (Giving the taxi driver the address) "Well, enjoy yourself then, ma'am. It seems my father has really settled in there. Yesterday you told me he'd be back in the morning."
Drissia: " Your father is on his way... Listen, God bless you, if you get back early, make him some lunch and take it to his workplace. I know him he'll just settle for whatever is available."
Mohra: "Ooh, look at all this love! You just want to make sure he's taken care of..."
(She changed her tone) "Listen to me, Drissia. Your husband is my father, and I respect him dearly, but don't push it. If you want to make sure he's looked after, then stay by his side and give us some peace!"
Drissia: (Letting out her usual shout) "Oh, so we're equals now, are we? The student has become the master! I really want to know did I actually give birth to you, or did you just appear out of nowhere to haunt me, girl?"
Mohra: (She laughed so loudly that the taxi driver turned to look at her) "Drissia, for heaven's sake, I'm your daughter, I swear! If you stay away from your husband too long, you might just find me taking your place as his favorite lady, mark my words!"
She hung up, laughing at the string of insults she heard in response; her mother hadn't left a single thing unsaid. This was how it always was between her and Drissia, constant back and forth banter. Being an only child, she was the apple of her parents' eye, spoiled and acting like the "boss" of the house.When she arrived at the university, she found her friend Habiba at the gate, pacing back and forth like a restless spirit.
Mohra: (She paid the taxi driver, thanked him, then hopped out and waved) "Al Jazeera!"
Habiba: (Waving and jumping in place) "Hurry up, hurry! I've got some fresh news for you!"
Mohra: (Looking around her) "Quiet down, you're making a scene! Seriously, lower your voice..."
Habiba: (Grabbing her hand and squeezing it) "Listen up! Our new professor... that son of a... turns out he's married! My sister, he's a top-tier womanizer."
Mohra: (Laughing and narrowing her eyes at her) "Did you meet him yesterday, you little stray dog?"
Habiba: (Rolling her eyes and crossing her arms) "I just went to get some info, sister... honestly!"
Mohra: (Nudging her) "Mmm, 'get some info'... yeah, right. You live for gossip, that's why I call you 'Al Jazeera', you never miss a thing, always on top of it."
Habiba: (With mock innocence) "The news just finds its way to me..."
Mohra: (Raising her eyebrows) "Oh, really? Hahaha, as if I don't know you. Come on then, give me the scoop."
Habiba: (Sighing and acting heartbroken) "He broke my heart, may he get what's coming to him! And here I was, hoping to pass this year through him... but then he tells me to come over to his house. Can you believe it?"
Mohra: (Giving her a look of pure disdain) "His house? That son of a... wants to have his cake and eat it too? Unbelievable..."
Habiba: (Pouting) "And it turns out he's married, ma'am, playing around behind his wife's back."
Mohra: (Speaking softly and narrowing her eyes) "Well, I won't stand for my friend's heart being broken by some low life womanizer. I'll show him what us Soussia girls are capable of..."
Habiba: (Her eyes widening) "What are you planning to do, my dear friend?"
Mohra: (With a broad smile) "Nothing much... are we just going to let him walk the earth spreading corruption? Follow me."
Habiba: (Rolling up her sleeves) "Right behind you! I always love doing a good deed."
Mohra: (Smiling with mock innocence) "Well then, may our good deeds be accepted..."
From there, they headed straight to the lecture hall. They had a two hour session with the professor they were just talking about. As the lecture ended and people began to leave, Mohra signaled Habiba to head out too. Mohra stayed behind all by herself, putting on an act and looking at him with the kind of longing glances that could knock a bird off a wall. He was clearly enjoying it; even though he had packed his things, he stayed put, waiting to see what she would do with those looks she was giving him, especially since she was sitting right at the front, in clear view, and he knew exactly what those glances meant. Once all the students had left, she picked up her register and her bag and walked toward him with a confident, swaying stride. She stood before him, and he looked at her with eyes that were both laughing and wandering. This had been his way with girls since the day he started working at their university, moving from one to another. Even though he was married, he still had plenty of energy. he was still young and quite handsome, and he was full of himself, especially seeing how the girls reacted to him. So many of them were infatuated and falling for him... and she, too, decided to show him that if she started acting sweet and charming, he wouldn't know what hit him, especially since she was striking and had a captivating beauty. She leaned in closer and began to flutter her eyelashes slowly, striking him right in the heart.
Mohra: "Hello..."
The Professor: (Raising his eyebrows and scanning her thoroughly from head to toe with a look of pure admiration) "Hello there."
Mohra: (Smiling at him seductively and extending her hand to shake his) "I'm Mohra El Abdi."
The Professor: (Nodding his head) "Welcome, Mademoiselle. So, did you manage to catch much of the lecture?"
Mohra: (Softening her gaze slowly) "Honestly, I wanted to thank you... every word that comes out of your mouth goes straight into our minds. You have such a wonderful way of explaining things."
The Professor: (Settling into his seat, clearly pleased) "God bless you, my lady. If only all the students were as lovely as you, the university would be a much cleaner place."
Mohra: (She placed her register on his desk, directly over his phone, and leaned in, smiling and playfully twirling a lock of her hair) "And if only all the professors were like you... so handsome! Hahaha, half the university is falling for you."
The Professor: (Laughing until the dimples showed on the sides of his mouth) "And the other half?"
Mohra: (Giving him a flirtatious laugh) "The other half are the guys! Hahaha."
The Professor: (Pulling his business card from his tracksuit pocket) "This is my business card." (He took a pen and wrote his number on the back) "This is my private number... very few people have it. Just so you know you've already found a place in my heart."
Mohra: (Biting her lip as she took the card from him) "Haha, if only you knew how much you've entered my heart too... anyway, I have to go now. We'll be in touch." (She made a phone gesture with her hand)
As soon as she turned her back, her expression completely changed. She hurried out and met Habiba, waving the professor's phone in the air.
Mohra: "Look, I got you his phone!"
Habiba: (Her eyes widening as she slapped her thigh) "No way! This isn't what we agreed on!"
Mohra: (Giving her a look of disdain) "Oh, so I'm the bad one now for trying to get justice for you?" (She opened the phone easily... no passcode, nothing) "Hahaha, oh my god, look! He doesn't even have a passcode on it."
Habiba: "Wait, he probably has another phone. This one might be the one he leaves without a code just so his wife thinks he's being faithful... 'Look, honey, I have nothing to hide.' He's playing a dangerous game."
Mohra: "Get your phone out... save her number... hurry up, you idiot!"
Habiba: (Fumbling with her phone, her hands shaking) "Damn it, why did it have to freeze now? God help me with your antics, Mohra... when are you ever going to stop this?"
Mohra: "Are you seriously losing it right now? What's wrong with you? Just hurry up so we can get this over with!"
Habiba: (Wailing and slapping her thighs in panic) "Oh no, the cameras! The cameras, you idiot!"
Mohra ignored her. She went straight into the phone and saved the professor's wife's number, it was saved as "WIFE" in bold letters. She saved it and tucked the phone into her pocket, then handed the other one to Habiba with a smile.
Mohra: "Now, take it back to his office and tell him he left it in the lecture hall."
Habiba: (Her eyes widening) "And have him come straight for me if anything goes wrong later?"
Mohra: "You know what... just go put it on the desk in the lecture hall and come back. No one will see, no one will hear, and even if it gets stolen, it's not our problem. He has another phone anyway, he can use that one, hahaha!"
Habiba: "He does, that son of a... he keeps it in the car's glove box."
Mohra: "Anyway, take it and go quickly, then come back so we can see what to do next. I really enjoy dealing with this type of man..."
Habiba: (Snatching it from her) "May your grave be in a thorny place, sister, with no one to pray for you and everyone who passes by spitting on it!"
Mohra: (Slapping her shoulder) "Hahaha! And I suppose you'll be buried with the holy saints?"
Habiba: (Putting her hands on her hips and smiling foolishly) "No, sister, I want to be buried right in the middle. I love a good crowd!"
Mohra: "Are you going to go, or should I bury you right here in this crowd?"
He had fallen right into her hands, and no one could save him now. She had a particular way of making life miserable for these unfaithful married men. She sat there waiting until she saw Habiba returning with the rest of their group. She quickly hid her phone when she saw Habiba signaling her, because what happened between her and Habiba stayed between them. Even though they were all friends, they weren't close enough to share everything. Secrets were strictly for her and Habiba, even if they shared some minor things with the others.
Mahjouba: (Walking toward Mohra with a sway) "Why aren't you answering on WhatsApp, you little brat?"
Mohra: "You're making a scene, stop it!"
(They greeted each other with kisses on the cheek)
Karima: (Looking at Habiba) "I'd kill for a cigarette right now, honestly, my head feels like a rotten egg."
Mohra: (Rolling her eyes at her) "Forget about cigarettes. It's just a disease. I barely managed to get Habiba to quit, and now you're starting too? I don't have the energy for you addicts anymore."
Karima: (Scratching her head) "Alright, 'Mother,' whatever makes you happy."
Habiba: (Looking at someone entering the university gate) "Girls... look at that one! Oh my god, I've got the full report on him. He's the new heartthrob around here."
Mohra: (Holding her head) "They didn't call you 'Al Jazeera' for nothing... you already got the guy's file?!"
Mahjouba: (Staring at him) "Good heavens, look at that beauty! I love this guy already... should I go talk to him?"
Mohra: (Grabbing her hand and making her sit down) "Have some self-respect, you desperate girl! Just because someone walks by..." (She mimics her, deepening her voice) "'Should I go talk to him?' Just charging in like a lightning bolt, God help us."
Karima: "Hahaha, stay grounded, my dear, stay grounded."
Mahjouba: (Crossing her arms) "Sometimes I feel like you're my mother. Loosen up a bit, friend!"
Habiba: (Giving them a look) "I see you all treating her with such respect or whatever! If you only knew the messes this one gets into, your hearts would ache, ladies. Let me stay quiet, since I'm the only one who knows her dark disasters."
Mohra: (Glaring at her so she wouldn't expose her, then quickly changing the subject) "Girls, I miss our hangouts. It's been a while since we planned something...?"
Mahjouba: (Getting up with excitement, jumping and dancing on her own, she lives for fun and parties) "I'm ready at any moment!"
Mohra: (Pulling her back by her hand) "You're making a scene in front of everyone, you disaster!"
Habiba: "Alright then, the next gathering is at my place!" (She looked at Mahjouba) "Mahjouba, my dear, bring your darbuka (goblet drum) with you, don't you dare forget it!"
Mahjouba: "Is that something I could ever forget? Hahaha, my darbuka is a must!"
Mohra: "I don't know how I'm going to manage to bring mine from home..."
Karima: (Raising her hand) "Great! Then the snacks are on me... I live right next to you anyway."
Habiba: "A little from you, a little from me, hahaha!"
Karima: "And hopefully, the next celebration will be my wedding! God willing, I won't even need to hire professional performers with friends like you around."
Mahjouba: "Leave all of that to me... the spirit of a shikha (traditional dancer/singer) runs in my blood. Me and this 'deaf' shikha here..." (She pulled Mohra toward her) "No one plays the darbuka like us! Hahaha. As for the singing voice, she's got it all."
Mohra: (Playfully making a hand gesture to ward off the evil eye) "Five fingers in your face for my beautiful voice!" (She looked at Karima) "So, have you decided on the wedding date yet?"
Karima: "Probably next month... he says he's in a hurry, the lady says."
Habiba: "The rascal just wants to taste the 'sweets' already... hahaha!"
Karima: (Getting up and swaying with pride) "I'm all sweetness from head to toe, sister no wonder he's in such a rush!"
Mohra: "Oh, look at all that sass, my lord! Hahaha." (She pulled Habiba along) "Anyway, we'll figure out the plan for this evening on WhatsApp. I'm going to go prepare lunch for my dad and take it to his work."
Mahjouba: (Waving to them) "Okay, go in God's peace."
Mohra: (Dragging Habiba like a piece of luggage) "Come on! You were about to expose us back there. Instead of a brain, you've got a cheap piece of cheese in your head. Honestly!"
Habiba: "Oh my god, what's wrong with me? I'm going to lose it before you do. Fine, give it a rest, don't start nagging again. Just tell me, what are you going to do about the professor?"
Mohra: (Looking at her with a smile) "Nothing much... I'm just going to call his wife. That's all."
Habiba: "I'm just afraid you'll get caught."
Mohra: (Tilting her mouth to the side) "Is this the first time? Hahaha, forget about it."
They walked along, holding hands and chatting until they reached Habiba's neighborhood. For a moment, Mohra thought she caught a glimpse of someone with the same build as the person she saw last night. It looked just like him. She blinked and looked again, but no one was there. She stood there staring, swallowing hard. Habiba noticed her dazed state and asked what was wrong.
Mohra: (Looking at her) "Oh, nothing... nothing. Anyway, I'm going now, okay?"
Habiba: (Greeting her with a kiss on the cheek) "Okay, dear. Take care."
Mohra waved and hurried off to get home quickly. She took a shortcut through some narrow alleys. She wanted to walk, but then she felt footsteps following her at the same pace. She glanced around but saw no one. She swallowed hard, remembering the previous night and the fear she felt. She saw an alley leading to the main street and decided to change her route, better a crowded place than an empty one. Just as she was about to turn the corner, she slammed into someone's body. He felt solid and broad; her head hit his chest, which felt as hard as iron.Her eyes rolled back as she stepped back and looked at him. She swallowed hard and spoke with difficulty because the person in front of her suddenly terrified her.
Mohra: "Are you following me?"
He gave her a look that made her heart stop, she couldn't say another word. He tilted his mouth to the side, shook his head, and continued on his way, humming a Rai song in a deep, gravelly voice that wasn't meant for singing at all."I am the miserable one, and you are the cause... I will never recover from you..."He continued on his way, humming, leaving her standing there confused. He hadn't even answered her question. She bolted toward the main street, not looking left or right, because the area she was in was empty, tucked between traditional houses. She took a taxi straight home, swearing she'd never go through those alleys again, especially during the afternoon lull when the streets are deserted. As for him... he stood at a distance, watching her until she got into the taxi and left. He tilted his lip to the side, revealing the laugh lines around his mouth. He turned back, humming to himself in a low, deep voice. He held a cigarette between his fingers, taking a puff every now and then. Anyone who passed by greeted him; he would either nod boredly without speaking or just wave with two fingers. He threw the cigarette down and crushed it with his foot, then wiped his hand and continued his song."Beauty belongs to its owners... be patient, my heart, be patient..."As soon as she got home, the first thing she did was make lunch. Once it was ready, she flew to her father's company where he worked. She was always quick with her chores fast at everything. Usually, a girl who talks fast and a lot is quick at everything else too. This speed was something Drissia had taught her so she wouldn't get stuck. Even though she was an only child, her mother didn't spoil her too much. She always said her father's spoiling was enough and she didn't need to add to it. A person needs to be tough to handle life. Of course, she was kind to her, but like any Moroccan mother, her fear for her daughter made her act tough. She always kept in mind that one day Mohra would have her own home, and she didn't want her to go there lazy or spoiled. she wanted her to be a capable woman. This was the strength she instilled in Mohra by being firm with her since childhood, teaching her housework, cooking, and everything else until she became a capable woman. Naturally, she didn't forget her education, as she always told her that her studies were what would truly benefit her. Even if she got married and had a home, if she wasn't educated, aware, and working, her husband himself would look down on her and always see her as small in his eyes. She ran into the company before her father's break was over. She burst into his office, panting and breathing loudly. As soon as he saw her in that state, he jumped up from his seat, grabbed a bottle of water, poured it into a glass, and went to her. He put his hand on her back, his eyes full of fear and concern.
Idris: "God guide you, my daughter, slow down! What's wrong? Who's chasing you? Did someone scare you? What happened?"
Mohra: (Drinking from the glass and handing it back, her chest still heaving) "No... no one scared me. I just came running."
Idris: (Sighing with exhaustion) "God guide you, girl... why are you like this? Where's the fire?"
Mohra: (Catching her breath) "I just wanted to bring you your food on time, Dad."
Idris: (Tapping her head gently) "There's no rush for something good, my daughter. God guide you, that's all. Those who rushed are already dead."
Mohra: "Hahaha, and I'm still very much alive!"
Idris: (Shaking his head with exhaustion) "I always tell you, slow down. A little patience is good, Mohra... it will serve you well in life."
Mohra: (Taking his hands and leading him to his seat) "Now it's time to eat, Mr. Idris, not time for lectures. Come on, Bismillah. Drissia has been on my case since morning, if you leave anything from your lunch, I'll have to tell her."
Idris: (Shaking his head and laughing) "Hahaha... God bless you both."
Mohra: (Looking around the office) "I'd love to work in this company, Dad. When will I finally feel important and have my own office?" (She sighed) "This damn studying just won't end."
Idris: (Rolling up his sleeves to eat) "Just put a little of that brain of yours into it and it'll be over. This is your last year, you've got nothing left until you graduate. But please, drop the mischief and the wildness in you, God bless you."
Mohra: (Looking at him with mock innocence) "It'll be fine, God willing... Dad... I need to ask you something..."
Idris: (Looking up at her) "I knew this lunch wasn't going to be free."
Mohra: (Laughing softly) "No, I don't want money, hahaha. You know I hang out with the girls every now and then... and this time we're meeting at Habiba's. I might even stay the night there."
Idris: (Looking at her with narrowed eyes) "If Drissia hears this, she won't be happy, and you'll hear it from her again."
Mohra: (With a pleading look) "Oh, come on, Mr. Idris... who's going to tell her? Aren't we each other's secret keepers?"
Idris: (Shaking his head no) "Staying the night is out of the question, Mohra. Don't make me regret it."
Mohra: (Starting to pout) "Dad, for heaven's sake, I'm an adult! Besides, Habiba always stays over at our place, and her parents never say anything to her."
Idris: (Sharply) "Those are her parents, that's their business. Me and your mother, no. There's no discussion about this. If you want to go have fun with your friends as usual, you're welcome to. Go and spend some time, and I'll come pick you up at night. But that's it."
Mohra: (Crossing her arms) "Is that your final word?"
Idris: (Closing the lunch box) "And there's no other. If I'm being nice to you, don't take advantage of me. I'm lenient, yes, but I know when to be firm. If I let you go to your friends, it's only because I trust you and I know how I raised you. But the day I hear any news that isn't right, you'll see a side of me you've never seen before, I'm telling you."
Mohra: (Her eyes widening) "Now how did we get to all this talk, Mr. Idris?"
Idris: (Speaking with a warning tone) "Just so you keep my words in mind."
Mohra: (Shrugging her shoulders) "Fine, I was just asking your opinion... and you made me regret it."
Idris: "I don't have daughters who stay out at night... you'll stay in one house after your father's house, and that's your husband's house."
Mohra: (Sighing) "Fine, fine. I'm going now."
Idris: (Glaring at her) "Come here."
Mohra: (Lowering her head and clasping her hands) "Yes... what did I forget?"
Idris: (Reaching into his pocket, taking out his wallet, and pulling out two hundred dirhams) "Here, take this in case you need anything."
Mohra: (Smiling and taking it from him, leaning in to hug him lovingly) "May I never be without you... my kind father."
Idris: (Nodding and patting her arm) "God bless you... and may He bring you a decent man who will take over the burden of your madness from me."
(She laughed as she walked out)"Pray for me to get a decent job, what man? Just give me your blessing, that's all, hahaha!"
Idris: (Calling out loudly) "You've had my blessing since the day you were born!"
As soon as she stepped out of her father's office, she closed the door, straightened her posture and her clothes, tucked the two hundred dirhams into her pocket, and walked away with quick steps. As she was leaving the hallway, she slammed into a massive, solid, and hard body. She looked up and muttered angrily:"What is wrong with me today? Everywhere I turn, I'm slamming into walls!"She heard a deep, masculine chuckle, which made her immediately look up to see who it was. At first, she couldn't help but think of the person she saw earlier, his features were hard to forget. But as soon as she saw him, she sighed with relief because it wasn't him. It was someone else."Take it easy, the world isn't going anywhere..."He spoke after staring at her for a while, scanning her up and down, letting her process it. She shook her head and met him with a cold look."First of all, you walked into me! Second, they say time is like a sword... I'm the one who's going to fly, not time!"She smiled at him, closing and opening her eyes, leaving him with a wide grin."Are you Haj Idris's daughter?"
Mohra: (Smiling coldly) "Yes... Mohra, daughter of Idris. That's me. And who are you?"
He laughed at the way she spoke and the expressions she made while talking, even if they were unintentional. That was just her nature, talking fast and a lot.
"I'm the owner of all this 'goodness' you see in front of you. Your father is a fine man..."
Mohra: (Her eyes widening) "You're the owner of the company? Oh... excuse me... I talk too much... sorry, haha! But how did you know Idris is my father?"
He laughed and ran his hand over his beard. He looked at her for a long time and spoke in his deep voice."From the picture hanging in his office."Just as she was about to answer him, she heard his phone ringing. He picked it up, answered, and said just one sentence: "I'm coming." He hung up, looked back at her, and extended his hand with a smile."Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle...?"
Mohra: (Extending her hand, smiling and happy to have met the owner of the company personally) "Mohra... haha... I just told you, you forgot already."He shook his head no, placed his other hand over hers, and said:"Don't mind me... a hundred things on my mind, and only one head."
Mohra: (Smiling and waving her hand) "Well, put them in your head one by one... don't try to fit all hundred at once when you only have one head!"
He gallantly made way for her to pass. He followed her with his eyes as she walked away until she disappeared from sight, then muttered under his breath:"A name that fits... a purebred mare... we'll meet again. And not just once..."He tilted his lip down, smiling at this encounter that pleased him, and headed to his office with her laugh, her words, and her movements on his mind.[In another place]In a luxurious Moroccan salon, a woman in the prime of her life was sitting. She was wearing a silk djellaba in a soft light blue with yellow embroidery. Her feet, which were swinging in the air, were in yellow belghas (traditional slippers). Her posture was aristocratic, even though she was a daughter of a popular neighborhood. But she was raised on elegance and refinement. She was raised by a true Fassi woman... even though she was from Rabat, and her father was from Rabat through and through, even if they were of modest means. But her mother brought with her the prestige and refinement of the great families of Fez. However, she chose to live a simple life with someone who wasn't from her family or her high social standing a "stranger," as they say. But the prestige remained in her, and she raised her daughter to be like her proud and dignified. She weighed every word she spoke.She looked years younger than her age. Her skin was like milk, and her figure was still fit and attractive. She wasn't veiled; her hair was down, showing off her beauty. She seemed kind and sweet, the kind of person who could heal a wound just by being there. she wouldn't even look at a stranger or argue with anyone... except with her daughter, who was turning her hair gray and driving her crazy, along with her father who spoiled her beyond measure. She and her daughter were constantly bickering like rivals, bringing out the worst in each other.
Drissia: (Sitting with her legs crossed) "Well, Lady Atiqa, I've missed you, honestly!"
Atiqa: "May you find only goodness and gain, my dear. If only you knew... the worries of the world have taken us. We've become people who don't even ask about each other, everyone is stuck in their own home."
Drissia: (Picking up her glass of tea and taking a sip) "Well, what can you do? That's life... and that's how it is. So, tell me, is there any news? How's the family and everyone, near and far? Sister, I've missed people, honestly."
Atiqa: (Nodding her head) "They've missed you too, my sister. Since the day you got married..." (She rolled her eyes) "...to that Soussia man, you haven't been around us. You don't come to see us anymore. I don't know what happened to make you finally come to my son's wedding."
Drissia: (Setting the glass down) "To be honest, Idris is a wonderful man, Atiqa. But sister, the jealousy he has makes me stay in my place... he gets angry and shouts and leaves me, disappearing for two or three days. But poor man, he has a good heart, and God bless his home, he's never let me want for anything."
Atiqa: (Making a face) "See? If you had married my brother, Moulay Abdelqader, you'd be living in prestige and status now. But you stood in your mother's throat and said, 'It's Idris or no one.' You left my poor brother miserable because of you, and he even left the country."
Drissia: (Sighing and lowering her legs) "God guide you, Atiqa. You only go where God has written for you. And if your brother was meant for me, we'd be married now. They say marriages are made in heaven. Besides, with Mr. Idris, I have my prestige and status, and whatever I ask for, he says 'welcome' and 'it's my pleasure.'"
Atiqa: (Giving her a look) "Mmm, clearly, like that house you only just managed to buy after all this time."