A soft sliver of morning sun cut across Hamza’s eyes, pulling him from a deep, contented sleep. He blinked, the heavy velvet curtains doing little to block the insistent Valencia light. Rolling over, he found Aya nestled beside him, her face buried in the pillows, a tangle of dark hair fanned out. A smile touched his lips. His wife. The word hummed in his chest, a warm, resonant truth.
He reached out, his hand hovering over the gentle curve of her hip before pulling back. He wanted to touch, to pull her closer, but a quiet stillness in her posture gave him pause. Her brow was furrowed, a faint crease visible even through her hair. He watched her for a long moment, the quiet hum of the villa around them a stark contrast to the thrumming life he felt inside.
Her eyes fluttered open, dark lashes lifting slowly. They met his, a flicker of surprise, then something else, a faint wince. She tried to shift, a small gasp escaping her lips. Her hand went to her lower back, then unconsciously, to a more intimate place.
“صباح الخير، حبيبتي,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and tenderness. “What’s wrong?”
She managed a weak smile, but her eyes held a definite accusation. “صباح النور يا حمزة.” Her voice was a little rough. “Everything. My back, my… everything.” She didn’t elaborate, but her meaning was clear. Her cheeks bloomed with a sudden, vivid flush.
He chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. “Oh? And what did I do?” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Last night, you seemed rather… enthusiastic.”
Her flush deepened, spreading down her neck. She pushed gently at his chest, a futile gesture. “You were… an animal.” She pouted, her lips trembling slightly with suppressed laughter, though her eyes still held that touch of discomfort. “The professor couldn’t control his passion, could he? Too much… enthusiasm.”
His laughter broke free then, loud and uninhibited. Her childish scowl only made her more adorable. He loved this new version of her, unguarded and playful. He loved the new version of himself too, unburdened by the pre-wedding jitters. “Is that what this is? My fault?” He ran a finger along her jawline. “I thought you enjoyed it.”
“I did,” she admitted in a tiny voice, almost a whisper, then quickly added, “But I can barely move now. My muscles feel like they’ve run a marathon.” She tried to sit up, but a sharp wince stopped her, her hand clutching the sheets. “I wanted to shower. I can’t even get out of bed.”
He propped himself up on an elbow, looking at her with mock seriousness. “Well, what would you like me to do, my queen? Shall I summon a team of trained professionals to carry you to your royal bath?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Or perhaps, I could offer my humble, albeit passionate, services?”
She rolled her eyes, but a genuine smile finally broke through. “Just help me. You owe me.” She made to sit up again, groaning softly. He reached for her, his strong arm circling her waist, pulling her gently against him. Her body was soft and warm, a perfect fit against his. He kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you, habibti. Anything.”
---
After a leisurely, if somewhat clumsy, breakfast that Hamza insisted on bringing to bed, Aya finally managed to get dressed, albeit slowly. He watched her from the chaise lounge, pretending to read a book, but his eyes kept flicking to her. The way her hips swayed, the gentle curve of her back as she reached for a shirt. Married life was glorious.
His phone vibrated on the side table, pulling his gaze away. It was a notification from his university group chat, but it reminded him of the other, more pressing matter. He picked up the phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Youssef’s name. He hadn’t reached out yesterday, swept up in the whirlwind of arrival and their first night.
He pressed call. It rang twice, then went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Youssef,” Hamza said, keeping his voice light, though a knot tightened in his stomach. “It’s Hamza. Hope you’re doing well. Just landed back in Valencia. Give me a call when you get a chance, I wanted to ask you about something. Nothing urgent, just… catching up.” He ended the call, knowing it was a lie. It was urgent. Very urgent.
He glanced at Aya, who was now tying her hair up, her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her back was to him. He could almost pretend everything was normal. But the memory of that text message, the one about Mazen’s eyes, felt like a cold stone in his gut. He didn’t want to worry her, not yet. Not when they were just starting this new, beautiful chapter.
He sent a quick text to Youssef: “Call me ASAP. Need to talk about Mazen. Important.” He tucked the phone back into his pocket, trying to wipe the worried expression from his face before Aya turned around. He couldn't let her see the fear. Not now, not ever, if he could help it. He was supposed to protect her, to be her haven here in Valencia, not drag her into old shadows.
“Ready for a walk?” Aya asked, turning, her eyes bright. “I want to see the market you told me about.” She looked so innocent, so full of eager anticipation. How could he possibly tell her that the world they had escaped to might be just as dangerous as the one they left behind? He forced a smile, a little too wide, a little too bright.
“Of course, habibti. Let’s go. I’ll show you everything.” He stood, walking towards her, taking her hand. Her fingers were soft in his, and he squeezed gently, a silent promise to himself that he would keep her safe, no matter what it took. He would deal with Mazen, or whoever was behind this, on his own. She deserved this happiness.
---
The afternoon melted into evening, a blur of market stalls, churros, and the sun setting over the Turia Gardens. Hamza had managed to keep the worry at bay, his hand always in Aya’s, his smile unwavering, even as a part of his mind kept replaying Youssef’s voicemail. They returned to the villa as dusk settled, tired but content.
“I think I need another bath,” Aya announced, flopping onto the plush sofa. “My feet are killing me.”
He grinned. “And whose fault is that? I told you we could take a taxi.” He joined her, pulling her close, resting her head on his shoulder. “But I’m happy to assist you again, my sore-footed queen.” He nibbled at her ear, feeling her shiver. “Perhaps this time, I could join you? For… moral support, of course.”
She swatted lightly at his arm. “Hamza! You’re incorrigible.” But a smile played on her lips. “Fine. But no more ‘professor couldn’t control his passion’ incidents.”
He laughed, pulling her up. “I make no promises when it comes to my beautiful wife.” He led her towards the bathroom, a spacious room with a deep, freestanding tub. He started the water, adding some fragrant bath salts he’d bought for her. The steam began to fill the room, softening the edges of the day.
As she slipped into the warm water, a sigh of pure bliss escaping her, he knelt beside the tub, taking a washcloth and gently starting to clean her back. His fingers grazed her skin, smooth and soft beneath the water. “You have such beautiful skin, Aya,” he murmured, his voice low. “And your back… I could just spend hours tracing these curves.”
She blushed, dipping her head. “Hamza, stop. You’re being… you’re so different now.”
He leaned closer, his eyes twinkling. “Is that a complaint? I thought you liked this new, appreciative version of your husband.” He ran the cloth down her arm, then let his gaze linger on her chest, visible just beneath the water. “And these… they fit perfectly in my hands. Like they were made for me.”
Her eyes widened, and she splashed a little water at him, laughing. “Hamza! You’re terrible! I’m not used to you being so… descriptive.”
He laughed again, a deep, satisfied sound. “Get used to it, habibti. You’re my wife now. And every inch of you is exquisite.” He leaned in, kissing her wet shoulder. The world felt perfect in that moment, just the two of them, in their new home, surrounded by warmth and intimacy. He almost forgot about the outside world, about Mazen, about everything that threatened to shatter this fragile peace.
---
Later, curled in bed, the lights dimmed, the city sounds a distant hum, Hamza felt his eyelids growing heavy. Aya was already asleep beside him, her breathing soft and even. He reached out, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss into her hair. He felt a deep sense of protectiveness, a fierce resolve to keep her safe.
Just as he was drifting off, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. A single, sharp vibration. He grabbed it, his heart leaping into his throat. It was Youssef. Finally. He quickly slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Aya, and walked towards the terrace, pulling the glass door shut behind him. The cool night air hit him, a stark contrast to the warmth of their bed.
He brought the phone to his ear, his fingers almost trembling. “Youssef? What’s up? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Youssef’s voice was hushed, strained. “Hamza, thank God you called. I got your message. Listen, it’s bad. Really bad. Mazen… he’s here. In Valencia.”
A cold dread seized Hamza, squeezing his chest. He gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles white. “What? How do you know? Are you sure?” He felt a wave of nausea. He had hoped, prayed, that the message was a cruel joke, a coincidence. But this… this was real.
“I saw him myself, Hamza. Just yesterday. Near the university campus. He saw me too, and he looked… different. Like he’s been planning something. He asked about you, about Aya.” Youssef’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He said he knew you wouldn’t be able to hide forever.”
Hamza’s blood ran cold. He stared out into the dark, silent city, his mind racing. Mazen was here. In Valencia. And he knew. He knew everything. A sudden movement caught his eye. Aya was sitting up in bed, looking at him through the glass door, her eyes wide with alarm, a silent question on her face. He had tried so hard to protect her, to keep this from her, but now, the truth was shattering around them. Mazen was here, and he wouldn’t be able to hide this from Aya much longer. He felt a shiver of fear, a primal terror for her safety, and a dawning realization that their new life might already be compromised.