مذكرات بطل (رجل المستحيل)

First Encounter

Why did she seem familiar?

I knew that face. I knew I had seen her before.

But where?

When?

My memory never failed me — if she felt familiar, it meant we’d met. Somewhere. Somehow.

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the frustration, then answered with the coldest voice I could muster:

“So, it’s you.”

She smiled — not shyly, not arrogantly — just… steady. Composed. Then offered her hand:

“Lieutenant Mona Tawfiq, at your service, sir.”

I took her hand automatically. A firm handshake. Brief. And then — like a trigger — the memory returned.

A year ago.

The shooting range.

Of course…

We had met.

Why the hell didn’t I remember her immediately?

Before I could process the thought, her voice came again, gentle but sure:

“I’m honored to be your partner on this mission, Colonel.”

Partner.

The word landed like a slap across the face.

Partner? What nonsense.

I stared at her, expressionless. My thoughts churned beneath the surface.

This couldn’t be happening.

This… petite, elegant woman — she was to be my partner?

No. There was some mistake.

No way she was qualified. No way she’d survive what was coming.

But then her eyes — those wide, bright eyes — caught mine again, and something shifted.

Could I be wrong?

Could she be different?

Was she a liability… or something else entirely?

I hated the fact that I was even beginning to ask the question.

I caught myself slipping, and snapped inwardly: No, Adham. Don’t be a fool.

Trust is earned — and never freely given. Not in this line of work. Certainly not because someone has a pretty face and strong posture.

I’d test her.

I’d push her.

And if she cracked — even once — I’d know.

Minutes passed in silence. I tried to reset my thoughts. Treat her as a colleague — just another operative.

Then, quietly, she spoke again:

“I’ll be staying at the hotel under the name Wafaa Gamal Ammar. The daughter of the kidnapped scientist. That way, I can ask about Dr. Gamal’s disappearance without raising suspicion.”

A knot tightened in my chest — something strangely protective. Irrational. Like a parent watching a child step toward fire.

Did she not understand the danger?

Did she not realize how easily things could go wrong?

She wasn’t ready.

I knew it.

But I swallowed the concern, masking it with detached disapproval.

“That puts you at risk,” I said flatly.

She shrugged, completely unfazed.

“I know. But it’s my duty, sir.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

There was no hesitation in her voice. No fear.

Just certainty.

Oddly… it impressed me.

She was brave.

Foolish, maybe. But brave.

Why did that bother me more?

Maybe it wasn’t admiration. Maybe it was just a heightened sense of responsibility.

Yes. That had to be it.

I tried again to distance myself. “Are you pretending to be brave?” I said coldly. “We’re in intelligence. We deal with human monsters — the kind who’d devour you alive.”

I leaned in, voice low and sharp.

“This world isn’t made for women.”

She met my eyes squarely. No flinching. No retreat.

“And why not?” she asked, her tone laced with quiet defiance. “We’re no less intelligent than you. I can handle weapons. I’ve been trained in combat. What else do I need?”

I almost pitied her then.

She had no idea what she was stepping into.

But I didn’t let the pity show. I smirked, voice laced with irony:

“Cruelty,” I said. “In our line of work, we sometimes have to make extremely harsh decisions — for the sake of the nation.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then she turned away, looking out the window.

“I don’t think cruelty is something to be proud of,” she said softly.

Her words stung more than they should’ve.

Heat crept up my neck. I buried it beneath the usual cold front.

She was right, of course.

There was no glory in cruelty. No pride in bloodshed — no matter the cause.

I replied, voice softer than I intended:

“I agree. But sometimes… it’s necessary.”

And just like that — I faltered.

Damn it, Adham… what the hell are you doing?

Wasn’t I supposed to rattle her? Crush her spirit early? Set the tone?

Instead, I was the one hesitating — bending, almost softening.

How had I let her disarm me so fast?

Worse — how had I already started treating her as an actual partner?

I glanced sideways at her, pretending indifference. But something gnawed at the edge of my thoughts.

There was something about her.

Something different.

Something I couldn’t quite name.

Was it that faint memory of her? Or something else entirely?

No. No, Adham. Stop this.

I wasn’t the kind of man to waver just because a woman was pretty… or courageous… or had the most extraordinary eyes I’d ever seen.

No.

That’s not who I am.

I clenched my jaw again and stared ahead, locking my gaze on the back of the seat in front of me.

Focus.

Calm.

I’m the leader of this operation. I call the shots. I stay in control.

And yet…

Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered:

Had the department made a mistake by sending Mona Tawfiq with me?

…Or was I the one who had made the mistake?

Only time would tell.