SERENDIPITY OF LOVE ✅

#5

"Magnificent!" This word managed so hard and escaped out of Fadwa's lips. She couldn't resist the furniture adorning every crevice and corner of this living room. The air conditioner had instantly made her sleepy, and she could forever smell the scent of this bakhoor. Is Umman Nadia sure this house belongs to a guy? Everywhere is as tidy as she could ever make it look.

She wanted to seat on one of the sofas, so she could feel its softness and not make a mistake while describing it to Majida and Ammi about the house; for she would surely gist them. This is the highest luxury level she had ever seen. Not that she has seen many, but she knew this house belongs to a rich mogul.

There were paintings pinned perfectly on the wall, she could see the door leading to where she assumed are the rooms of the house, but the impeccable love she has for paintings outweighs her inner thoughts of being a good maid. She prowled, as silently as she could; until her palm got in contact with the canvas of the first painting. She smiled.

It was an artistic painting of the sunset just above a captivating sea. She smiled and kept tracing every dent of colour on it. How would she explain her love for paintings? It's something therapeutic to her soul.

She was so engrossed in checking out the three paintings and pinning them to the lowest layer of her orbs, that she had forgotten where she is or the silent footsteps of her supposed boss.

Maheer had to stifle the yawn that tried escaping his mouth. Mamitah had called him and told him she had found the maid and he should come out and see her. It was hard lifting up his duvet and getting out of his bed just because of the so-called maid. But knowing so well he has to tell her what to cook for him for breakfast, he couldn't help but wake up.

Upon stepping his feet into the living room, he remembered his new bookshelf filled with new books; and he instantly got thrilled. He yawed his gaze to the right angle of the living room, and there; his gaze fell on a widely smiling lady that has her palms tracing the lines of his paintings. The paintings he didn't spare a single glance yesterday.

"Who the hell are you?!" He thundered. Because seeing her like this freaked him out, he had never imagined seeing a smile on a maid's face, so widely it emotes her undeniable love for his paintings.

She abruptly turned and placed her hands over her chest! The voice sounded as though a thunder before the fall of a heavy raindrop. Her golden eyes sparkled brightly that Maheer doubted if she fixed artificial eye lenses. They were so gold! And then her lips pursed into a natural pout, while she fixed her eyes at him.

"I asked you, who the hell are you?!" He clamoured, scratching his left eyebrow before he put his both hands into the pockets of his denim trousers.

One look at the pale blue colour of his eyes, Fadwa knew she is doomed. There isn't a glint of compassion or pity from his eyes, and she's afraid what she's seeing on her classmate's face is what she's seeing on her boss's face. She prays he treats her like the invisible human being she was used to being treated as. This disgust playing in his eyes was frightening.

"I'm Fadwa Mamman Jalo. Your maid." Her voice was coming out in stutters, and she couldn't hold his gaze, having her eyes fixed on the lushly carpeted floor.

He hissed, looking at the bookshelf again. "From the looks of you, how you were staring at those paintings as if you were going to eat it up. The clothes you have on, your lack of confidence; shows you're nothing but a maid. That's what fits you most." He snarled, moving towards her with eyes fixed on the bookshelf.

Her heart began pounding beneath her chest, and the pout on her lips doesn't leave a minute. She isn't lachrymose, she would've cried her eyes at the words he threw at her face. Yes Mr No name, she knows that she deserves nothing but to be called a maid. She looks like nothing but a poor lady from a wrecked background that deserves to be called a maid.