Ayub spotted me and waved enthusiastically. After whispering something to the man in white, he stood up and came over, holding a USB drive… decorated with Chinese ink brush paintings!
My eyes lit up instantly. I quickly took it from him, surprised. "So you found it! I thought it was gone for good!"
Ayub chuckled warmly. "Wasn't me. Musa found it."
"Musa?" The name meant nothing to me. Unconsciously, my questioning gaze shifted to the robed figure behind Ayub.
Following my look, Ayub understood. Grinning, he elaborated, "Yeah, him. Didn't get to introduce him yesterday. That's Musa. We've been best buddies since we were this high." He held his hand out at knee level.
Musa… I rolled the name silently in my mind. It tasted distinctly Arabic. My tongue moved from palate to jaw; saying it felt both strangely intimate and faintly forbidden.
Steadying myself, I glanced towards the back of the class where Musa sat. The strong sunlight illuminated his crisp white thobe, highlighting his composed and gentlemanly demeanor. Yet, within that calmness lay an undertone of distance, making me instinctively wary.
As my thoughts drifted, Quinn Yin's warning about locals just wanting an easy degree surfaced. I couldn't help asking, "Musa is studying Petroleum Geology too?"
Ayub nodded. "Yep. He's in our program. Same classes from now on." His eyes flickered to the USB drive in my hand. "You left in such a hurry yesterday. Musa saw you'd forgotten something on the hallway chair and asked me to return it."
Hearing this, I felt a wave of relief. So, Musa hadn't needed to open the drive to know it was mine? That meant… maybe he hadn't seen those qipao photos inside?
I exhaled deeply, offering Ayub a grateful smile. "Well, thank Musa for me, and thank you too!"
"No problem at all!" He winked, his grin widening. "Honestly, Musa and I are probably gonna be leaning on you for help a lot. Especially Musa. His bachelor's was in Business. He's an actual oil trader now – owns several companies and is crazy busy. He's doing this Master's just to get a better grip on the petroleum stuff, and hey, get the paper too. Zero background. Me? I studied Petroleum Engineering undergrad, but… y'know how undergrad is… rusty as anything. So yeah, we're kinda counting on you, ace student!"
My mind blanked. My body stiffened momentarily, unsure how to respond. Exactly what I was afraid of! Quinn Yin's warning echoed. Now Ayub was casually setting expectations before classes even properly started! Framed as "help," it clearly implied they'd want me to do the heavy lifting.
As a Chinese student with self-respect, helping struggling classmates was one thing. But having my effort exploited was another. Yet, in their country, a direct refusal seemed rude. I managed a weak laugh, offering a vague excuse. "You know I just got to Dubai, right? I don't know the teaching style or research expectations here yet. And what I learned back home? Might not even be relevant. Who knows, I might end up needing your help."
With Quinn Yin's cautionary tale fresh in mind, avoidance was my priority. My refusal was polite but clear. I forgot Ayub was Middle Eastern; the subtlety of a Chinese-style polite decline was lost on him. He took it as encouragement instead. Beaming, he slapped his chest. "No worries, buddy! We'll help you get used to Dubai! You help us with the coursework! Mutual support!"
I rubbed my forehead, feeling profound exhaustion. The camel milk aftermath had left me depleted, and climbing the stairs sapped my last energy. I couldn't muster the strength to argue. Taking a moment to gather myself, just as I was about to clarify with Ayub, I sensed a presence beside me – a tall, straight-backed shadow. Its owner was Musa.
Musa's eyes were calm pools of deep amber. He maintained a respectful distance, yet his low, pleasant voice reached me clearly. His gaze held concern. "Excuse me, Cece. You look quite pale. Are you unwell?"
His sudden, genuinely concerned words caught me completely off guard. It took me a second to register the shock: He knew my name!
Instinctively touching my cheek, I mumbled, "Not sick. Just… ate something bad last night. Upset stomach. I'm okay."
Musa didn't press further. He glanced at his watch. "Class starts in ten minutes. Don't mind me, carry on." With that, he simply walked away. Ayub, seeming satisfied we'd reached an agreement about mutual help – and perhaps mindful of local etiquette limiting time alone with a foreign woman – ambled back to his seat in the last row.
I automatically took a seat near the front. A few other Chinese guys were clustered here too. Jay was the one I knew best; we'd come to Dubai through the same exchange program. Actually, I'd met Jay because of Lia.
Jay had crushed on Lia since high school, worked his butt off to get into the same university, and finally mustered the courage to confess. Unfortunately, it was unrequited. Lia simply wasn't interested in his type and rejected him outright. But Jay was resilient, some might say stubborn. After graduation, he followed Lia all the way to Dubai – a move that made us onlookers both sigh and shake our heads in disbelief.
I'd tried to reason with Lia more than once: "Jay's such a great guy, decent character, kind, and honestly, incredibly devoted. He's worth considering." But Lia dismissed it. "Jay's way too boring and practical! I want romance and luxury!"
In the two days since arriving, Lia seemed to have forgotten her dedicated suitor, ignoring his calls. Jay, in turn, seemed to have settled into a pattern of quiet, patient waiting, dialing back the intense pursuit.
Now, this "ever-hopeful understudy" Jay tapped my shoulder from his seat behind and to my right. He got straight to the point: "Cece… how… how is Lia? These past couple of days?"
His feelings for Lia were no secret. I indulged him with the truth. "She's fine. Loving it here. Says Dubai is her dream city."
Jay blinked, a flicker of sadness crossing his face, quickly replaced by a resigned smile. He exhaled softly. "Good. That's good."
Watching his subtle shift in expression, I felt a pang of pity inside. Affection, devotion… the guy was genuine, his feelings real. But Lia just didn't reciprocate. What could he do?
I looked down, pulling out my notebook and placing it on the desk. As I went to open it, a hand appeared in front of me – long fingers, distinct knuckles, hinting at strength – gently setting a small white bottle on my notebook. Before I could even process it, the owner of the hand, clad in white, had turned and walked away without a single word.
What was that about? My mind buzzed with confusion. I started to stand, about to call after him, but the professor strode to the lectern, full of energy, and class began.
Frustrated, I could only pick up the little white bottle and squint at the label. Behind unfamiliar Arabic script, I finally found the English: Oral medication for diarrhea. Soothes the digestive tract. Suitable for recovery after diarrhea.
Unexpectedly, my heart softened with a gentle warmth. He rushed off to buy me medicine! We barely knew each other, meeting only twice under confusing circumstances yesterday, and here he was, being so thoughtful… shattering another stereotype I held about Middle Eastern men.
But instantly, I tried to crush that hopeful flutter. Yesterday, after the pad incident, Musa had clearly disapproved. His extraordinary kindness today likely had only one explanation: he and Ayub were colluding to secure my academic services!
Logically, I knew this was probable. Yet, try as I might, that tiny, stubborn surge of inexplicable pleasure just wouldn't be suppressed.
The lecture passed in a haze. I clenched the little bottle, stealing glances towards the back row through gaps between other students, barely catching a glimpse of the red-and-white checkered edge of his ghutrah (headscarf) before snapping my eyes forward, heart pounding.
The teaching style in Dubai, like Europe and America, emphasized research and discussion, unlike the more exam-focused lectures back home. At the end of class, the professor assigned group work: teams of three, meeting regularly to discuss, prepare presentations, and finally submit a joint paper.
Desperate to avoid the awkwardness of being forced into a group with the two robed locals, my immediate reaction when the bell rang was to look back to my right. I fixed Jay with an intense gaze. "Jay! How about we team up? We just need to grab one more person."
Jay flinched, looking instantly uncomfortable. "I… I thought since you seemed pretty chummy with those two guys in white… that you'd group with them…"
I shook my head vigorously. "Not close! Barely spoke!"
His discomfort deepened. "But… right after the professor said it… the three of us guys kinda… we sorta agreed already… Wouldn't be cool to back out now..."
It hit me. Abroad, sticking together felt natural. Our program had four Chinese students, but the requirement was groups of three. Naturally, the guys had formed their trio… quietly pushing me to the side.
It was understandable, human even. But it still stung to feel excluded. I could only wave it off. "Oh. Okay. Fine. I'll find someone else."
Finding someone wasn't necessary. Ayub was already heading my way. Before I could turn back fully, his grinning face was right there. "Cece! Musa and I were thinking… for this presentation… we form a group with you. Yeah?"
Scanning the room quickly, I realized my options were limited. I only knew Ayub, Musa, and the Chinese guys who'd just turned me down. So now, teaming up not only became inevitable but also rescued me from isolation. Who would have thought the professor would specify groups of three?
I cast a resigned glance towards the back. Musa was still gathering his things. He sat low in his seat, sunlight bathing his white thobe in brightness, his features difficult to discern. I looked from Ayub's expectant face to Musa's detached profile and unconsciously tightened my grip on the little white bottle in my pocket. Finally, I nodded faintly. "Okay."
That tiny nod, it seemed, fatefully entangled our paths – paths that might otherwise never have crossed – setting the stage for the inevitable twists and bumps that lay ahead.
After swapping phone numbers with Ayub, I headed out to the lobby to meet Lia. We had things to buy, supplies we still needed after arriving. Classes were light today, the professor hadn't assigned anything heavy, so we'd planned a big shopping trip to the supermarket.
In the lobby, I found Jay waiting too. Having likely gone too long without seeing Lia, he volunteered to be our "free pack mule" for the day.
Lia might not have feelings for him, but she was used to his hovering attentiveness. As for me? Free, willing labor? Why not?
Lia and I walked ahead, chatting and laughing. Jay followed faithfully behind, arms laden with bags without a single complaint. Watching him sweat profusely, I finally couldn't bear it. I took a few bags from him, letting him catch his breath.
Observing Lia's carefree bounce ahead, a thread of envy wove through me. The hardest part of being alone abroad was the loneliness. When adrift and unsupported, even the smallest gesture of care could feel momentous. I envied Lia. In this alien city, she had Jay's unfailing devotion.
And me? I thought, perhaps only this little white bottle from Musa remained – a source of restless stirring in my heart, a knot of conflicted feelings I couldn't quite unravel.