I woke up with a headache.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unrecognizable room.

The walls were painted a dark grey, everything else matched in black.

This was definitely not my kind of place.

I hate darkness because I’m scared of it.

I hate everything—and everyone—that scares me.

I looked around for a few minutes, then rubbed my hands together nervously.

I didn’t know where I was, or what was going to happen.

Am I captured? I asked myself.

Then I remembered those rough yet gentle hands.

That reminded me of the injured man… and the terrifying one who pointed a gun at me.

The thought hit me: What if he rapes me? What if he sells me?

I didn’t want to be anyone’s prisoner.

What if he kills me?

What will happen to Sana and Julie then?

I won’t be able to protect them now that I’ve been captured by someone who could do anything. Or perhaps I am not captured just here...

Curling up, I hugged my legs tight to my chest, burying my head between my knees... Still hazy.

Tears came, and I cried without knowing what else to do.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

I looked up at the sound.

I didn’t even bother wiping my tears—I was too scared.

A moment later, he walked in and shut the door behind him, not even glancing in my direction at first.

My breath quickened. My heart raced.

I was frozen with fear.

A small hiccup escaped, and then he looked at me.

His eyes were cold, but I thought I saw them soften for a second when he took in my state.

He slowly walked toward me.

I couldn’t look away.

I tried to control my crying, and somehow it worked—though my body still locked up as he came closer.

He stopped right in front of me, his face only inches from mine.

He raised his hand, about to place it on my cheek.

I flinched, scrambling to the other side of the bed, but he stopped me.

“Stop,” he said angrily, staring at me.

I froze in place.

He tried to reach for me again, but just like before, I flinched and backed away.

His hand balled into a fist.

Then he stepped forward and tried to touch my hijab-covered head.

“Y-You c-can’t—” I stuttered.

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at me skeptically.

“Y-You can’t touch me. You a-are not…” I forced myself to say it properly so he would understand.

He just stood there, his hand still suspended in midair.

The silence was unbearable.

Gathering a little courage, I looked at him directly—then hiccuped again.

He clenched his raised hand into a fist and finally walked away.

Before leaving, he stopped at the door and said:

“I’ll ask my dad, once he wakes up, about what you just said. Then I’ll decide what to do with you. But remember—you’ve stepped into my business, and you’re not going anywhere. Not without my permission... And it is for your own safety..”

He banged the door shut and locked it.

My eyes filled again, and I cried for hours.

Two Hours Later

I was still sitting on the bed, staring at the door. My tears had dried, but the fear remained.

Then—click.

The lock turned.

My heart leapt into my throat.

But instead of him… a small child, no more than three or four years old, wandered inside.

My heart slowed. How did she even open the lock?

I wondered how she even reached the door, until I noticed a tub on the floor—she must have climbed on it.

She looked at me with big, wide, impossibly beautiful eyes full of wonder.

I crouched down in front of her. My heart melted. An urge to hug her overwhelmed me, but I held back—I didn’t want to scare her.

“Daddy left,” she said in her tiny, soft voice.

It took me a moment to process what she said.

“Daddy?” I asked, confused.

“Hmmm Daddy locked you here,” she replied while playing with my hair.

My eyes widened. She was talking about him.

And suddenly, I realized what I should’ve seen earlier—she looked kind of like him. Almost.

She started crying suddenly, and I panicked.

I scooped her up into my arms, hugging her tight.

“Where’s Mommy, princess?” I asked gently while walking toward the door.

“I don’t have one,” she said.

Her words stunned me into silence.

But I swallowed and whispered:

“Okay, baby girl, stop crying. I’ll make you some milk—if you show me where the kitchen is. Okay? Are the two of us alone?”

She looked at me and nodded, grinning ear to ear.

Her smile brought one to my face too.

She guided me with her little hands, pointing the way.

At the kitchen, I considered setting her down, but she clung to me, refusing to let go.

So, balancing her on one arm, I made her a bottle.

With the milk ready, I carried her back out, settling onto a sofa with her snug against me.

I held her close, gave her the bottle, and waited until she finished and her little belly calmed.

Then I lay her beside me, tucking her between me and the back of the sofa.

Not long after, she drifted to sleep.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I followed her into peaceful dreams.