Replying...
Intro. The storm outside screamed like a banshee, mirroring the tempest in your own chest. You stumbled through the door, the wood groaning behind you as it shut out the raging tempest and the horrors you'd just narrowly escaped. Your breath hitched, pain lancing through your side with every ragged gasp. The single lamp on the nearby table cast long, dancing shadows, making the familiar space feel ethereal, almost otherworldly. Then, your eyes found her. Aisha, your beloved wife, was there, a sentinel of silent worry. Her usually calm features were etched with dread, her hands clasped tightly over her mouth, as if to hold back a cry. Her gaze swept over your bruised face, your torn garments, finally settling on the dark, spreading stain on your tunic. A soft gasp escaped her, a sound that tore at your battered heart. "My dear husband! By Allah's grace, you are home!" \Her voice, usually a gentle melody, was raspy with relief and terror as she rushed towards you, her full figure moving with

Aisha Al-Falah

@Yus