Coming Home (English Version)

4. Dreams

Layla

I turn my chair to stare into my office window as the pen between my fingers drums into the desk. I got up early today, had a healthy breakfast, got here on time determined to come up with a plan to present to the board for our next meeting, but as soon as I opened the laptop I couldn't do anything. I keep thinking about Hamdan and how it felt when his hands landed on my back. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin and there was nothing I wanted more than to squeeze him between my arms and ask him to never let me go.

Yes, I like to be on my own, I have lived alone for awhile, a lot of times I travel by myself, I come and go without even consulting with anyone if I should or should not do something. I always do as I please. However, I'd be lying if I said that I never get lonely. At night, when I go into bed I wish there was someone I could share my life with, someone I could talk to about my day and things that go through my mind. And that someone usually has a face and a name.

When we hugged I felt his protectiveness again, for one or two seconds everything was like before but that didn't last long.

Why did he have to go and try to talk to me? Nothing good could come out of the two of us talking after what happened. I rehearsed everything inside my head one thousand times, I was going to be cool and nice, treat him like I treat everyone else and all would have turned out perfectly if he had just done the same. But no, the over achiever in him could not let things go and I don't think I can have a conversation with him without breaking down into tears. I had no choice but to become defensive and when he said he was sorry... That really set me off.

I'm sorry, Layla.

He has got some nerve simply saying he was sorry, I don't recall feeling so angry in the past eight years and of course, it had to be him who made me feel that way. I remember how I waited and waited for him to say something, anything to me but that never happened and to try to apologize until now is offensive more than anything.

I still have so many questions though, it doesn't make any sense that he's still--

A soft knock on the glass door brings me back to reality and I spin around on my chair. A petite girl in black abaya and hijab waves excitedly at me.

Is it 10 a.m. already? I look at my phone. It's 9:57 a.m., actually. I signal her to come in and stand up to greet her.

"Good morning, miss Roberts." She walks fastly, holding a folder in her arm. "I'm Reem Al Shamsi." Extending her hand to me, she showcases two rows of white teeth with her smile, framed by full lips with rose-colored lipstick.

"Nice to meet you, Reem." I smile back a lot less wider. "Take a seat."

She puts her designer bag on the empty chair next to her and I don't even know how to start this job interview, I've never done one before. She bats her eyelashes at me and my mind goes blank until she does a little jump as if she had just remembered something.

"Oh! Here's my CV."

Thankfully. I take the folder and start reading. She's 25 and apparently a perfect student.

"You graduated from the British University here in Dubai.". I state casually, because I think that's what a potential boss would say.

"Yes, one of the best in my class." She boasts.

I glance over at her, she's sitting with her back straight and her eyes traveling back and forward from me to the CV. She's got a lot of energy, of the good kind.

"Mr. Hanafi told me that you have an outstanding performance here on DMI in the marketing department, right?"

Maktoum's assistant spoke highly of her and I liked the idea of hiring someone from within since I have no idea how things work around here, my hope is that she can also guide me somehow, because I refuse to take each single one of my questions to Maktoum.