Novels by leena mohamad

The suitcase lay open on the bed. I meticulously folded a floral sundress, picturing myself twirling in it on a white sand beach. Maldives, I thought, the word itself a whisper of paradise. Rami had outdone himself. A honeymoon in the Maldives! I still couldn't quite believe it.He called from downstairs, "Dema, habibti, I'm leaving now, be ready in 15!""Okay!" I called back, my heart fluttering with anticipation. I zipped up the suitcase, a little too excited, and grabbed my passport. As I headed downstairs, I noticed Rami wasn't in the car."Just popping into the jewelry store,I won't be late," he said when I called him, He was back quickly, though, slipping a small, velvet box into my hand."What's this?" I asked, my fingers trembling as I opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was the most exquisite ring I had ever seen. It was a delicate band of platinum, and the diamond… the diamond was breathtaking. It seemed to catch the light from every angle, sparkling with an inner

The heavy oak doors of the mansion swung shut behind me, the click echoing in the vast, marble-floored hallway. My visit with Professor El-Masri had refreshed me, my mind finally found peace after our discussion. A chorus of greetings met me as I stepped inside. "Welcome home, Madam Dema," the maids chimed, their smiles warm and genuine. A trolley laden with fragrant dishes was wheeled forward. "We've prepared your favorite, Madam. Please, have something to eat."I offered a polite smile. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry. I need to get back to work." The aroma of the food was tempting, but the urgency of my projects overshadowed any appetite. "Perhaps later," I added, hoping to soften my refusal.I've wasted so much time sulking, it was time to get back to work.I headed straight for the library, the familiar scent of old books a comforting presence. The room was a sanctuary, a world away from the bustle of the city. I settled into my chair at the large mahogany desk, the smooth

The silence in this apartment is deafening. It’s a thick, heavy blanket that smothers every other sound, including the insistent buzzing of my phone. I know who it is. Probably the maids they’ve been trying all day. I haven’t eaten since last night. My stomach growls, a hollow, echoing complaint, but I ignore it. Food feels… unnecessary. Everything feels unnecessary.I stare at the peeling paint on the opposite wall, tracing the faded pattern with my eyes. This apartment… it’s a relic. A ghost of a life I used to live. A life I thought I’d escaped. And yet, here I am, back in its dusty embrace, feeling just as lost and empty as I did before.A memory flickers. Warm, like a hearth fire in the dead of winter. Professor El-Masri. Her kind eyes, the gentle curve of her smile. She’d seen me, really seen me, back when I was nothing but a shadow drifting through the university halls. Homeless, hungry, and utterly alone. Everyone else just saw the surface – the quiet girl who always sat in

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I stared out the window. Another gray day, mirroring my mood. It had been days since that awful barbecue party, and the dark cloud hanging over me hadn't budged. My maids, bless their hearts, had tried their best to cheer me up. "They're just jealous, Dema," they said, bustling around me with cups of mint tea and plates of delicate pastries. " They are jealous of your beauty, your style, and your husband's love."It sounded nice, a comforting little fairytale. But I wasn't a fool. I knew the truth and what I'd seen, the thinly veiled insults, the pointed whispers, the way they’d all huddled together, excluding me, their smiles tight and fake. They hadn't been jealous. They'd been… spiteful. And the worst part? My husband's indifference toward the whole situation.I’d tried to tell him, of course. The moment we got home, I’d poured out my heart, the hurt bubbling over. I’d expected comfort, a reassuring hug, maybe even a word or two of reprimand for hi

The salt spray kissed my face as I stepped out of the car, the scent of the ocean a welcome counterpoint to the nervous flutter in my stomach. Omar's uncle's beach house was always a scene, a whirlwind of extended family, boisterous laughter, and the inevitable comparisons. I smoothed down the silk of my dress, a masterpiece from a boutique in the city and adjusted the oversized sunglasses perched on my nose."You look like you're going to the Oscars, not a family barbecue," Omar grumbled, his brow furrowed.I rolled my eyes, a practiced move. "Ramu your mother will be there. I can't just show up in jeans and a t-shirt. I have to look the part."He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The part of what? A fashion magazine cover? You're going to feel suffocated in that thing.""And you'd rather I show up looking like I haven't left the house in weeks? Let's be realistic, Rami. Appearances matter. Especially when your mother is around."He knew I was right. Rami's mother, bless her

Today I woke up sick, each time I cough, it feels like my skull is going to split open. I knew I shouldn't have gone into the office yesterday, even though we were short-staffed. Now, I'm paying the price. I squint at my laptop screen, trying to focus on the budget report. It's a blurry mess of numbers. Thank goodness for video conferencing. At least I can supervise the team remotely."Dema, habibti, you look terrible." Tala's voice is soft and concerned. She's holding a steaming mug, the fragrant scent of mint tea wafting towards me. "Here, I made you some tea. It will make you feel better."I manage a weak smile. "Thanks, Tala. You're an angel." I take the mug gratefully, the warmth seeping into my chilled hands. "How's my temperature?"Tala places the back of her hand on my forehead. "Still a little high. You should rest, Dema. Don't worry about work. They can handle it."I know she's right, but I can't help but feel guilty. "I just need to finish reviewing this report..." I trail