The Upscale Dilemma
Life returned to its sweet rhythm. The following Friday, Abdullah decided to treat Rowan to a meal he couldn't cook himself. Knowing her love for heights and scenic views, he took her to "Al-Talla" restaurant in Fuheis.
He had twenty dinars in his pocket, calculating that ten would cover their meals and the rest would buy her the sweets she loved. They sat by a breathtaking view and ordered a kilo of grilled meat with all the trimmings. They ate until they were more than satisfied, leaving plenty behind.
Then came the bill, presented in a box that looked like it belonged in a jewelry store. Abdullah opened it, expecting a modest sum, only to find a figure that nearly stopped his heart: 35 Dinars.
As he frantically searched his pockets, Rowan burst into laughter. "Don't worry," he joked, "if I can't find the rest, I'll just wash the dishes for the rest of the day!" Rowan reached into her purse, found ten dinars, and they pooled their spare change to escape the predicament. It was an embarrassing moment turned into a joyful memory. They skipped the sweets shop and headed home for coffee, their hearts full, even if their wallets were empty.
Walking Under the Rain
Winter arrived—the season of lovers, where rain stirs the soul and the cold reminds the lonely that marriage is indeed "half of religion." On a mild, rainy day, Rowan asked to walk under the clouds. She clung to Abdullah's arm, feeling safe in his presence.
"Aren't you afraid of getting sick, my Smarah?" he asked tenderly.
"I fear nothing as long as I am with you, my Baidah," she replied.
Her words were arrows of light, piercing his heart with waves of happiness. Rowan was a lover who spoke from the soul, seizing every moment to pour her affection into words. But then, the tone shifted.
"Baidah, the wedding is close, and I am so afraid," she whispered.
"Afraid of me?"
"No, never of you. I'm afraid of the wedding night... and people's cruelty. They don't show mercy; they only plant fear."
The Omen and the Doubt
She told him a story she had heard from a friend: A bride, honorable and pure, who did not bleed on her wedding night. Her husband, blinded by rage, beat her until she fainted and threw her back to her family's house in the dead of night. The shock killed the girl's mother instantly. Later, medical exams proved the girl was still a virgin—she simply had a "hymen of the elastic type" that does not rupture easily. The husband begged for forgiveness, but the girl refused, saying he had murdered her mother.
A heavy silence fell. Then Rowan asked the question that would haunt Abdullah's nights:
"Baidah, if you were in his place, how would you act? Would you doubt me from the first second? Is a girl's honor truly just a drop of blood?"
Abdullah stammered, "I don't know... that's what we were taught."
The Serpent in the Mind
Rowan slept peacefully that night, but Abdullah was awake, tortured by the "Why." Why did she tell that specific story now? Why in such detail? Was she preparing him for a dark secret?
The "Eastern Man" within him—the one who guards his wife's very name with jealousy—could not ask a friend for advice. The Devil found his opening, whispering that Rowan's story was a defensive tactic because she wasn't a virgin.
The next day, his voice was cold. "Rowan, why did you tell me that story? Are you... not a virgin?"
The shock was total. Rowan laughed in disbelief, then grew angry. "Are you seriously questioning my honor? I am a maiden, getting married for the first time. What do you think?"
"I don't know," he replied stubbornly. "I want us to go to a doctor to make sure. I need to kill this doubt."
Rowan was horrified. "If my brothers knew you asked this, they would end our marriage instantly! You are stabbing my honor!"
The Turning Point
The air between them turned cold for days. The Devil continued to whisper: If she were pure, she wouldn't refuse the doctor. Eventually, Abdullah demanded again: "I still stand by my request. You must do this."
To his absolute surprise, Rowan smiled calmly. "Fine. If it will put your mind at ease—even though it is a deep insult—I agree. Let's go tomorrow."
Her sudden, absolute surrender stunned him. Her confidence was the ultimate proof. He realized that a girl with something to hide would never agree so boldly. That night, he thanked God for her innocence. He decided that taking her to a doctor now would be a greater insult than the doubt itself.
The Scar of Suspicion
The next day, she called him. "So, when are you picking me up to prove I'm honorable?"
"I was only testing you, my Smarah!" he laughed, trying to dismiss it.
"No," she said sadly. "You were serious. I will never forget that you doubted me, that you stabbed my honor when I gave you my heart."
Abdullah spent the following days showering her with apologies and jokes, desperate to win back the territory he had lost. Eventually, the waters returned to their course, and the lovers began to sing their melodies once more. But deep down, the broken glass of the engagement night seemed to whisper a reminder that some cracks, no matter how well hidden, remain.