I took a cab and went for the interview. The receptionist guided me to the office; I entered, and the door closed behind me. I thought the receptionist had just closed it, but that wasn't the case. It was locked. I took a seat, and the interviewer started the conversation.
At first, it was good as I told him about working on my CV and why I wanted to give up being a lecturer. We were smiling and laughing as he made jokes out of the conversation. Then, he started talking about how I could grow in my career by being open-minded. Initially, I thought he was discussing thinking outside the box or working smart, but he wasn't.
He said, "Qualifications don't matter; working hard doesn't matter. All that matters in a profession is looks. If you're beautiful, modern, and bold, success will be yours."
It clicked with me, but I stayed calm. While talking to him, I opened the chat and sent my location to Mustafa.
He continued, "If a man talks with a girl beautiful like you, he'll heal from half of his life problems in a moment."
I wanted to get up and leave the room, but he kept talking.
After a while, I gathered my things and tried to end the conversation, saying, "I'll confirm with you via text message if I want to join your office." We said thank you to each other.
As I reached the door, it unlocked itself. I looked at the door in shock, realizing he had locked it before and now unlocked it.
Somehow, the lock was connected to his table. I got frightened, moved the handle, opened the door, and went out of his office, then straight out of the building.
Mustafa reached there; it had hardly been 10 minutes since I shared my location with him. He was stepping out of his car, spotted me, and ran to me. He sensed there was a problem since I had shared my location.
Looking him in front of me, I burst into tears and placed my forehead on his chest.
"What happened?" he asked.
I placed my hands on his chest, grabbed his shirt in both hands, my fingers digging into the material. I looked up at him, tears flowing from my eyes, my gaze lingered on his, concern etched on his face, "Where were you? You should have come earlier," I said and started sobbing.
As I gazed up at him, he gently placed his hands over mine, his touch sending a wave of reassurance through me.
"Shh, it's okay," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "I'm here. You're safe."
I felt a weight on my feet and was about to kneel on the ground, but he held me and picked me toward the car. He picked up his shawl from beside me, wrapped it around me.
"I'm here. I'm with you. No one can harm you, you're safe. Tell me what happened," he said while kissing my hands as he stood outside the car.
"He was talking about being bold and open-minded," I told him while wiping off my tears.
"Don't be afraid. I'm here. No one can touch you. You stay here. Don't get out of the car. I'll be back in a couple of seconds," he said while kissing my forehead.
I nodded while tears flowed from my eyes.
In the meantime, his secretary and driver arrived too. As Mustafa entered the office, his secretary followed him, and after a couple of minutes, they came back out.
He said something to his secretary while walking to the car and then pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
''Hey, it's me. I need you to look into something,'' he said, his voice firm and commanding.
"There's a guy at XYZ Corporation who's been making unwanted advances towards women. I want you to dig up everything on him and make sure he's taken care of".
He listened for a moment, then nodded, even though the person on the other end couldn't see him.
''Yes, I want it done discreetly, but firmly." He ended the call, gestured to the driver to drive, entered the car, sat beside me, and took me in his warm embrace.
His one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other hand held mine. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he kissed my head, saying, 'Tell me everything that happened in there. What did he say to you?'
I hesitated for a moment but then began to recount the entire conversation, from the moment I entered the office to when I left, while I tightly gripped his shirt in my hands out of fear, he placed his hands on mine while tears flowed from my eyes continuously.
As I spoke, Mustafa's expression grew darker, his jaw clenched in anger, and his hold on me tightened as if to shield me from the pain of the memories and said, "Don't worry, I'll make sure he's dealt with. You don't have to worry about him bothering you or anyone else again''.
I nodded.
''Let's get you home. You need to rest and forget about this'', he added.
As the car stopped in front of the house, he stepped out and held the door open for me. I took his hand and got out of the car, still wrapped in his shawl. We walked towards the house, his arm wrapped around my waist.
But as we entered the house, I suddenly collapsed into his arms. His concerned face was the last thing I saw before everything faded away.
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my bed in my room. He was standing in front of the bed with our family doctor, discussing something in hushed tones.
'Mustafa,' I called out weakly, trying to open my eyes.
He rushed to my side, kneeling beside the bed and taking my hand in his. He kissed my hand and whispered, 'I'm here.'
A tear rolled down my face, and he gently wiped it away with his fingers. I looked down, and he placed his hand on the edge of the mattress, his grip tight.
I looked up at him, he said, ''I promise I'll never leave you alone again".
I nodded slightly, stood on my knees on the bed, and moved my arms forward. He stood up, grabbed my waist, and hugged me tightly. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, my eyes filled with tears, and I started sobbing uncontrollably.
"I got frightened," I whispered.
"What if I couldn't handle the situation? If you hadn't come, I don't know what could have happened." I added.
He held me tightly, his voice soft and reassuring. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here now. You're safe. You don't have to be frightened anymore."
He stroked my hair, his touch gentle and calming. "I promise, I'll always be there for you. You'll never have to face anything alone again.
The fear and anxiety of the moment still lingered, but with him by my side, I felt a sense of safety and comfort.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on mine. "You don't have to think about what could have happened. What's important is that I'm here now, and I'll take care of you".
I nodded and gradually, my sobs subsided, replaced by sniffles.
Then, the door knocked. We exchanged a glance, my hand resting on his bicep, the soft fabric of his shirt a gentle caress on my skin while his hands held me around the waist, a comforting pressure that made me feel safe.
"Yes?" he called out.
The door creaked open, and the elderly house help lady entered with a tray of sandwiches and fruit juice.
"Here's the food you asked for, sir," she said.
He nodded.
"Yeah, come in, place it on the side table," he said. The clinking of glasses and plates was a gentle sound as she set the tray down.
I shook my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
"I don't want to eat anything," I said, sitting on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping me.
He signaled to the lady to leave.
As she turned to go, I asked, "Please, can you help me change and freshen up? I want to get out of this dress."
Before she could respond, he intervened. "I'm here to help her. You can go and attend to your other work", he instructed her.
The lady looked at me uncertainly, and I gave her a slight nod to indicate it was okay. She left the room, closing the door behind her.
He turned to the closet, the soft glide of wooden doors opening a gentle sound, where my nightgowns occupied a section alongside his clothes.
"Which one should I pick?" he asked, scanning the options.
"Whatever it is, just pick one", I replied, feeling a bit detached.
He held up a knee-length brown gown with straps. "What about this one?"
"It's fine," I replied.
He grabbed the hair catcher from the side table. "Let me help you," he said, while moving forward his hand.
I took his hand, and we walked to the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, and he hung the gown on the hook. I gathered my hair and twisted it up, and he handed me the hair catcher.
As I tied up my hair, I gestured to my back zip, indicating that he should help me undo it. He obliged, his fingers grazing my skin sending a gentle shiver down my spine as he slowly opened the zip.
The sound of the zipper's teeth separating was a soft whisper. He kissed my hair, the warmth of his breath a soothing balm on my skin. The scent of his cologne lingered, a subtle reminder of his presence. Then, he left the bathroom, the soft click of the door closing behind him.
As I got out of the bathroom, I slid into bed, picked up my phone, and started scrolling through reels. Then he came in, and I looked up at him.
"You haven't eaten anything yet?" he asked, looking at the tray.
"I told you I don't want to eat," I replied.
He slid into bed, leaned back, and opened his arm for me. I placed my head on his chest, hugging him tightly, his arms wrapped around my waist, enveloping me in his warmth like a baby.
"If you won't eat, you'll get sick," he continued.
"I asked the house-help lady to bring some soup for you," he added while gently stroking my hair.
The elderly house-help lady smiled warmly as she placed the tray beside the bed on the side table. She handed him the soup bowl as he gestured, her eyes twinkling with a knowing glance. She discreetly slipped out of the room, leaving both of us in the warmth of the moment
He kissed my hair. "Just take a sip," he said, filling the spoon with soup and bringing it close to my lips.
I felt a surge of affection as he tried to feed me the soup, his eyes locked on me with gentle concern.
As the warm liquid touched my lips, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me. The flavors danced on my tongue, and I savored the moment, wrapped in his loving care.
"I want it," I said, taking the spoon from his hand and grabbing the bowl.
He chuckled. "Okay, okay, but let me hold it for you, it's hot," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
After a week or two, I was lounging on the couch, engrossed in the TV show, when the doorbell rang. The elderly house-help lady moved to answer it, but I gestured for her to let me handle it.
As I opened the door, I was surprised to see his secretary standing there, come to collect some files. I signaled the house-help lady to retrieve the files from the room while I invited the secretary in.
"Please, have a seat," I said, motioning to the couch in front of me.
"Can I ask you something?" I inquired, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"Of course, ma'am," he replied respectfully.
I leaned forward, my eyes locked on his. "Remember that day? A week ago?" I asked, my voice low.
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"What happened in the office when Mustafa went there?" I asked, my voice firm.
The secretary hesitated before responding, "As you know, ma'am, when I arrived at the scene, Mr. Mustafa was already there, and he was...extremely furious", he said.
"He had the guy by the collar, and without warning, he punched him in the face three or four times", he continued.
My eyes widened in shock for a moment, taking in the intensity of the scene he described.
"I was worried it might escalate further, but Mr. Mustafa somehow managed to compose himself after that", his voice dropped to a whisper.
"As Mr. Mustafa stormed out of the office, he instructed me to ask his lawyer to file a report against the harasser. The lawyer quickly got to work, and a case was filed against the man", he added.
I listened intently, my eyes never leaving his face.
"The court took swift action, and soon the verdict was delivered: the man's license was cancelled, and he was fined a hefty 2 million. The outcome was a clear victory for Mr. Mustafa and you, and it sent a strong message that he would not tolerate such behavior, taking decisive steps to protect you", he said.
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