{"id":37449,"date":"2025-07-04T10:30:34","date_gmt":"2025-07-04T08:30:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/?p=37449"},"modified":"2025-07-15T10:58:30","modified_gmt":"2025-07-15T08:58:30","slug":"my-choices-are-my-downfall-a-short-story-by-fadi-zaghmout","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/my-choices-are-my-downfall-a-short-story-by-fadi-zaghmout\/","title":{"rendered":"“My Choices Are My Downfall”\u2014a short story by Fadi Zaghmout"},"content":{"rendered":"
What happens when a relationship forms between a human and a robot? In the near future in Dubai, an unforeseen accident takes place within one of the city’s towering skyscrapers. Do individuals, driven by their impulses, end up making destructive choices, or does it all come down to heartless machines?<\/span><\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fadi Zaghmout<\/span><\/h4>\n

Translated from Arabic by Rana Asfour<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

This city is not designed for the weary.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s <\/span>fajr<\/span><\/i>, the dawn of Saturday \u2014 the day I eagerly await to recover from the fatigue of the week. The building’s fire alarm is blaring, the noise piercing my ears like a siren signaling impending war.<\/span><\/p>\n

What sleep am I to consider now? I\u2019ve barely caught some shut-eye since returning home, exhausted from last night\u2019s bash. I toss and turn in bed, burying my head under the pillow in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise. Pulling the quilt up to cover myself from head to toe, I hold out hope that the sound will eventually fade away, allowing for a sense of calm to wash over me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat time is it?\u201d I ponder as I lie here, my body completely frozen in place, unwilling to free itself from its tense position. It\u2019s as if I\u2019m pretending to be asleep, turning a blind eye to the turmoil unfolding around me.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I lay here unmoving, my hand stubbornly resists my will to pull it out from under the quilt, preventing me from checking the time on my wristwatch. My body feels just as resistant, refusing to shift so I can reach my phone on the bedside table. My throat is equally paralyzed, making it impossible for me to call out to Tina and ask what\u2019s going on.<\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile, the loudspeaker blares incessantly, shifting between English, Arabic, and Chinese, repeating its messages in a continuous loop: \u201c<\/span>Attention! There is a fire in the building. Evacuate immediately. Please use the nearest fire exits.\u201d<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease get off my back,\u201d I shout at the noise. By now, I have given up hope that the commotion will quiet down anytime soon. Tossing the quilt aside, I sit up in bed, grumbling \u201cBloody hell,\u201d before burrowing back under my pillow. Moments later, Sitt Tina finally shows up.<\/span><\/p>\n

Gently, she opens the door and strides over to my bed in her mechanical, ungraceful stride. In a steady tone, she says: \u201cMadame, there\u2019s a fire in the building.\u201d When I don\u2019t respond, she shakes my shoulder and repeats, \u201cMadame, madame. Fire.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI get it. I get it, Ms. Know-It-All,\u201d I say, throwing the pillow aside and turning to face her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs it really a fire, or a false alarm as usual?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know Sitt Hiba. I can\u2019t say for sure yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow can you not know?\u201d I ask. \u201cWhat\u2019s the point of you being AI?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I am clearly irritated. Her frosty tone so early in the morning has pushed me over the edge. And why does she insist on calling me Sitt Hiba? Couldn\u2019t she just say \u201cHiba\u201d? I realize I should have been more diligent in training her, but I\u2019ve been tied up with everything since I brought her home from Dubai Mall a week ago. Having barely completed the initial setup to get her running, I\u2019d been relying on her to pick up my preferences along the way.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m at your service, Sitt Hiba. The latest updates indicate that the building\u2019s security team is on its way to investigate the situation.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need to reply to everything I say.\u201d I wasn\u2019t in the mood for a debate with her. \u201cSo, what\u2019s our next move?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her silence only fuels my frustration, prompting me to raise my voice: \u201cHey, you! Answer me, I\u2019m speaking to you!\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to head down, Sitt Hiba. Your life might be in danger.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDownstairs?\u201d I reply, my disapproval clear, as I recall that my apartment is on the 25<\/span>th<\/span> floor. Before she can respond, I shoot down her suggestion: \u201cAre you out of your mind? I\u2019m not going.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I turn over to the other side of the bed, once more burying my head beneath the quilt, impervious to the incessant calls to evacuate and Tina\u2019s motionless presence beside my bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSitt Hiba, it is important that we adhere to the safety protocols. If you refuse to head downstairs, I will have to report you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd pray tell, who exactly would you be reporting me to?\u201d I ask slowly, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDubai Police.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

As she speaks, a pale, blue light flickers on the panel encircling her head, making it clear that she is genuinely intent on contacting them.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t follow the safety guidelines during a fire, you could face a fine of up to a 1,000 dirhams.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I flinch at the mention of the hefty fine, ignore my throbbing headache, and toss aside the comforter. \u201cHold on, you fool, I\u2019m on my way down!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I get up, open the wardrobe, and pull on a loose sweater over my flimsy nightwear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo not make the call!\u201d I warn her as I shut the closet door, all while cursing Elon Musk out loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cElon Musk is a no-go red line,\u201d her voice warns me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stare at her in disbelief, trying to wrap my head around what I\u2019ve just heard. To my astonishment, I notice her eyes blazing a fierce red.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you just say?\u201d I demand, still struggling to accept her words. I feel the urge to quarrel with her as she reiterates the words, her voice loud and her tone sharp: \u201cElon Musk is a no-go red line.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m worried her head panel may light up again, signaling that she\u2019s reported me to the authorities for defaming and slandering Elon, which could leave me facing a hefty fine that could cost me everything. So, I do my best to keep my composure.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGod curse the day I brought you here! Elon, a red line? Where are you when I need you, Alexa?!\u201d I cry out, hoping to rattle her. Yet, her facial features do not budge. She stands there, unresponsive, as if I were conversing with a wall. Her eyes gradually return to their usual color, and a serene smile spreads across her face as she replies in a flat, emotionless tone, \u201cI\u2019m here to help you, Sitt Hiba, but you need to start your descent now. We\u2019re running short on time,\u201d she warns.<\/span><\/p>\n

With only a few moments to think about what I could save from a fire, I have no choice but to rely on her judgment. I quickly pull a large suitcase from the closet and hand it to her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPack everything valuable we can fit into this \u2026 fast!\u201d I urge, hoping she understands the command.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I rush to wash my face and tuck my hair under a Louis Vuitton hat. Seizing a moment in the bathroom, I light a cigarette and take a few quick puffs before tossing the butt into the trash. When I return, I find her ready, so I ask for my glasses to hide my puffy eyes courtesy of this sleepless night.<\/span><\/p>\n

Rummaging in the bag for a few seconds, she finally hands them over.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot those! I was talking about my sunglasses, stupid!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t clarify which ones, Sitt Hiba,\u201d she retorts, her tone sharper in defense.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou really should know better <\/span>Zakia Al-Zakia<\/span><\/a>! From now on, I think I\u2019ll just call you Smarty Smart-pants.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t read minds,\u201d she answers defiantly, catching me off guard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t argue with me,\u201d I say, raising my hand in front of her to cut off her retorts. \u201cI apologize for my oversight, Zak Zak Khanum,\u201d I add, my voice dripping with sarcasm. \u201cNow, please hand me my Dior sunglasses, and let\u2019s skip the chatter.\u201d A fleeting desire to leave her behind to perish in the burning building crosses my mind. However, the thought of the steep price I paid for her \u2014 one I still haven\u2019t managed to pay off \u2014 keeps that impulse in check.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wait for her to dig through the bag once more before she hands me the sunglasses. Slipping on my slippers, we make our way out of the apartment. However, as we reach the door, I\u2019m taken aback to see that her jacket is stained with tomato juice.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTina? What is this? What are the neighbors going to think when they see you like that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

What really frustrates me about Tina is her inability to change her clothes, despite handling all the household chores effortlessly. Just two days ago, I contacted Tesla\u2019s customer service to discuss this issue, but their explanations for the situation left me feeling quite doubtful. They pointed out that Tina’s joints were not built with the flexibility necessary for her to dress herself as humans do, even though she shares many other striking similarities with a human being. Besides, the company determined long ago that personal AI assistant robots don\u2019t need clothing. However, I\u2019ve always felt it inappropriate to have her out in public without any covering, especially when others are around. As a result, I find myself stepping in to help her get dressed each and every time it\u2019s necessary.<\/span><\/p>\n

And here we are. Downstairs, the residents of the building will be congregating with their robots, their curious eyes darting around to judge both the assistants and their owners. I was not going to let her be seen in any light that didn\u2019t reflect well on me and my reputation in the building.<\/span><\/p>\n

I leave her standing in the doorway and quickly make my way to the bedroom, where I pull out a stunning outfit from the drawer. As I stand behind her, I carefully unzip her shirt, helping her out of it. Next, I slide down her skirt and replace it with one that perfectly complements the new top. After taking a moment to look her over, I stand facing her, adjusting the collar of her shirt to ensure it is properly buttoned. I fuss over her appearance until I am completely satisfied that she looks every bit the respectable housemaid in her white shirt and blue skirt. As I take a closer look at her, I notice that the black glass that makes up her face is streaked with smudges. With that in mind, I make my way to the kitchen, grab a towel along with some glass cleaner, and head back to her side. I only feel satisfied once I can see my own reflection mirrored on her surface.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYalla, off you go ahead of me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

As we exit the apartment, I can smell the acrid smell of smoke in the air, stirring a deep fear within me that our delay might land us right in the midst of the flames. I urge her to pick up the pace. As we step outside, we are met with the blaring sirens and the automated voice looping its warning over and over.<\/span><\/p>\n

I plug my ears with my index fingers and hurry toward the elevator, only to find it is out of order. Glancing back at Tina, she gestures toward the emergency exit. With her trailing behind, we start to make our way down.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHand me my headphones,\u201d I order Tina when I can no longer bear the noise.<\/span><\/p>\n

She rummages through the bag, without pausing to navigate the steps behind me, until she finally pulls them out and hands them over. With the headphones in place, I am soon immersed in the sweet melody of Ahmed Saad’s song “<\/span>Ekhteyaraty Mudammera Hayati,<\/span><\/a>\u201d a tune that I truly cherish. A moment later, there\u2019s a distinct ping. I stop and turn towards her in time to see a red light glowing on her forehead. Her eyes have disappeared, and in their place a phone icon is flashing to indicate an incoming phone call. Suddenly, Yazan\u2019s face pops up on the screen \u2014 a stark reminder of a life choice that has become quite burdensome.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wasn’t really up for a conversation with him after what had happened last night, so I signal Tina to end the call. Shortly after, he sends me a text message. Tina reads it aloud, even though it\u2019s clearly visible on her monitor: <\/span>Abdo mentioned there was a fire in your building. Wanted to check in. Is everything okay?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Abdo? His robot already knows about the fire?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cTina, when did you inform Abdo?\u201d I ask, furious that she has shared my news so quickly. She firmly denies any wrongdoing and explains, almost condescendingly, how all robots are interconnected through the same information network. She insists that the alert must have reached Abdo the moment it got to her, especially if Yazan had set up his assistant to keep an eye on security in the places I often visited.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Her words make sense, but they deepened my frustration with Yazan. His constant worry for my well-being feels stifling, leaving me feeling distanced from him. While I recognize, to some extent, that his heightened attention is a sign of his affection, I can\u2019t shake off the feeling that he crossed a line last night.<\/span><\/p>\n

He\u2019d glued himself to my side the entire party, making it feel like I could hardly breathe. He spent the night with his brows furrowed and his chest puffed out like a proud peacock, keenly observing the other guys and using his aggressive body language to warn them to keep their distance. It felt like he was more my bodyguard than the guy I\u2019m dating. As though we had shown up to the party not to enjoy the music of the renowned Korean robot artist, Kim Lee, but rather to stir up trouble instead.<\/span><\/p>\n

His concerns for my safety are misplaced, even in crowded places. This city is quite safe, and besides, I know how to look after myself. Yet, he continues to treat me like a child, completely overlooking the fact that I managed to secure the tickets after he failed to do so because of his usual tardiness and insouciant attitude. He was adamant about driving instead of opting for a self-driving taxi, which resulted in him arriving late to pick me up. Even though he chose a newer route that was supposed to be less congested, we still found ourselves stuck in traffic.<\/span><\/p>\n

We took the skyway, bypassing the other bridges, to arrive at the very tip of the new Palm Island offshore, where the party was. Because we took off during rush hour, we ended up paying a significant Salik toll every time we went through one, totaling at least five times. When we finally reached the Arena area at the edge of Nakheel Mega Mall, we found ourselves stuck for another hour amid the cars on the building’s parking levels. After a stroke of luck, we managed to snag a parking spot, narrowly avoiding several confrontations with other drivers. As we waited for our turn to take the elevator, the stifling heat overwhelmed us, and I nearly blacked out as we made our way down the corridor toward the hall, struggling against the increasing humidity. Upon arriving, I asked one of the attendees where I could grab some water, only to notice Yazan\u2019s clear displeasure. When I quickly made my way to the refreshment stand to get a bottle, he caught my hand to stop me, seemingly eager to take care of it himself. It felt like he saw this as his only chance to assert his masculinity in today\u2019s world.<\/span><\/p>\n

Does he honestly think I\u2019m going to answer his call after he completely spoiled my enjoyment of a party I\u2019d been looking forward to for months? A party I forked out 2,000 dirhams to attend?<\/span><\/p>\n

Choosing to disregard him, I turn to Tina and ask her to go over my daily responsibilities. Once again, her face fades from view, replaced by a detailed overview of my schedule.<\/span><\/p>\n

9:00 a.m.: Yoga at Dubai Hills.<\/span><\/p>\n

11:00 a.m.: Tanning at Vida Hotel in JLT.<\/span><\/p>\n

2:00 p.m.: Nails at the Beautiful Salon in Dubai Hills Mall.<\/span><\/p>\n

3:00 p.m.: Hair at Media City.<\/span><\/p>\n

4:00 p.m.: Lunch with Abeer at the Greek restaurant in Madinat Jumeirah.<\/span><\/p>\n

6:00 p.m.: A massage session at home.<\/span><\/p>\n

9:00 p.m.: A launch event for a new flavor of Dubai chocolate at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Dubai Creek.<\/span><\/p>\n

As she goes through the list, my headache intensifies. I press my hand against my forehead and ask her to turn down the music. How am I supposed to handle all of this when I haven\u2019t slept a wink all night? It dawns on me that I need to lighten my load, so I quickly review my obligations and make my decision. I\u2019m not really in the mood for yoga, and rescheduling my meeting with Abeer for next week seems perfectly reasonable. I can grab a quick bite on the way and save myself two hours in the process. Abeer might be a bit let down at first, but I\u2019m confident that once I explain my situation to her, she\u2019ll come around and understand. I instruct Tina to attend to the matter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSitt Hiba, the penalty for missing the yoga class is 150 dirhams. You should have cancelled at least 24 hours in advance!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a scam. I will not pay the 150 dirhams.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When she objects that I must follow the rules, I find her tone off-putting, as if she were holding me responsible for the mistake. Rather than getting into an argument with her, I resolve to either adjust her settings later or return her to the store for a refund.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFine, keep the class. I\u2019ll pretend I\u2019m tired and slip out halfway through the session.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Abeer replies moments later, \u201cI knew you\u2019d bail out at the last minute like you always do. Bitch!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I brush off Abeer’s message as I make my way down the final flight of stairs. Pushing open the side door of the building, I step out to join the neighbors who have gathered outside. The moment the door shuts behind me, I struggle to catch my breath. Beads of sweat stream down my forehead in the sweltering heat and oppressive humidity of the morning. As I ask Tina for a tissue to dab my face, I notice the neighbors lined up like spectators, each with their robotic companions, watching me as if I had just stepped onto the runway of a fashion show.<\/span><\/p>\n

I tune them out and look around, searching for a spot near the cooling fans. Unfortunately, there is no space available; the neighbors and their robots have already staked their claim on the area. They watch me in silence, none volunteering to make room for me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I pause for a moment, gathering my courage before finally stepping forward to speak with one of them.<\/span><\/p>\n

She\u2019s a Japanese woman who seems friendly and looks to be around my age. She mirrors my style, from dress to hat and sunglasses. I greet her in English, but she ignores me. Thinking that maybe she hasn\u2019t heard me, I raise my voice and wave a hand in front of her to get her attention. Then, I point to her robot assistant and politely ask, \u201cCould you please move your robot aside?\u201d I then gesture toward my neck and add, \u201cI\u2019m suffocating.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo way!\u201d she snaps back, catching me off guard as she reaches for the robot\u2019s arm and intertwines it with her own. With a gentle look, she leans in closer to him and replies coolly, \u201cHaruto can\u2019t handle the humidity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

But I, the black duckling, can?<\/span><\/i> I think to myself. I recall how much the Japanese cherish their mechanical innovations. She likely sees Haruto more as a lover than an assistant. Given his striking chiseled steel frame and her choice of attire for him, this seems clear. His broad shoulders and chest, coupled with a slim waist, mirror a masculine physique, and he towers over Tina with his impressive height. Dressed in stylish shorts and a Polo Ralph Lauren shirt, along with his soft, short artificial hair, he certainly makes an impression. She must have shelled out a small fortune for him, far more than I spent on Tina.<\/span><\/p>\n

I step away from her, scanning the area for a neighbor who might be willing to share some of the shade taken up by his robotic assistant. To my right stands my kind Nigerian neighbor. I contemplate asking him to make some space for me, but his assistant is busy holding his child and engaging with him in play. I know he wouldn\u2019t compromise his child’s comfort for my convenience, and honestly, I would never expect him to. Standing next to the Nigerian is an Australian and his robot that takes care of his three dogs. The latter holds the leashes tightly, keeping the dogs from breaking free and chasing after the street cats. Asking for his help is not an option. I finally spot the Lebanese woman standing a little distance away, flanked by two mechanical assistants. I remember our chance encounters during my morning routine ever since she moved into the building, and how she always greets me with a warm “Bonjour\u201d each time. Although we\u2019ve always stuck to this simple greeting, I decide to approach her this time, hoping she\u2019ll grasp my predicament when she sees the sweat dripping down my face. To my surprise, she firmly refuses to relocate any of her assistants, citing her concern for their safety. \u201cNeither Rose nor Claudette can handle moisture,\u201d she explains. \u201cI’m afraid the humidity could ruin them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

What about my degeneration?<\/span><\/i> I think to myself. But I refrain from arguing with her, realizing that she is no different from the others. Not a single one of them has shown an iota of concern for anyone other than themselves. Left with little choice, I know my best bet is to huddle up next to one of the assistants, with hope for at least a bit of shade to reach me. I send Tina off to find something I can use to fan myself. As I wait, I can feel myself nearing the edge of collapse. It is five minutes before rescue arrives in the form of my chubby French neighbor.<\/span><\/p>\n

Noticing my clear discomfort, she instructs her assistant to create some space for me. I express my heartfelt thanks, as if she has granted me a lifetime\u2019s favor. I quickly slide into the narrow gap that the assistant has left between her and her husband. Almost immediately, I begin to second-guess my choice. I feel his uneasy gaze on me, as if I had unwittingly opened the door for him to harass me. If Yazan could see me now, he would definitely pick a fight with this one. I choose to overlook him, leaving Tina, who has returned, to take care of fanning me.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

As I take a deep breath and feel the sweat starting to cool, the fire alarm finally stops.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank God!\u201d I exclaim, relieved that this nightmare is finally coming to an end. Now, I can head back to my apartment and catch some much-needed sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

I light a cigarette to ease my frayed nerves, and just as I take a drag, the security coordinator responsible for managing building evacuations during a fire approaches me, his robotic assistant trailing behind him. He asks for my name and apartment number, jotting them down in his file. Then, he points to his assistant, who records the time I left the building and notes that I was ten minutes late beyond the allowed time. When he directly asks me why, I struggle to provide a convincing explanation, prompting him to make another note in my file.<\/span><\/p>\n

He lectures me on the need to adhere to the instructions to avoid any accidents in the future and warns me of a fine if I am late next time something similar happens.<\/span><\/p>\n

I bristle at his conduct and do not appreciate his remarks. I find myself engaged in argument, irritated, fatigued, and unwell. I emphasize that evacuation drills should not be scheduled on days off, such as weekends and holidays, when residents are typically staying up late or arriving home at night. It was unreasonable to force residents to participate in these drills on the only days they truly have a chance to relax.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I\u2019m caught up in the heated argument, even threatening to lodge a complaint, I can hear the neighbors\u2019 voices growing louder in the background. I glance around to figure out what is going on and spot the Japanese woman gesturing frantically toward my apartment while shouting in her loud, irritating voice, \u201cFire, fire!\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I step away from the building and look in the direction she is pointing. My apartment curtains are ablaze.<\/span><\/p>\n

The fire is raging in my apartment, nowhere else!<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTinaaaa, what\u2019s happening?\u201d I yell deliriously. \u201cHow did this happen? Didn’t we just leave the apartment looking perfectly fine not long ago?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stand there stricken in place, surrounded by the other residents as the drones with their water jets swoop into action, trying to tame the blaze engulfing my apartment. Meanwhile, on her screen, Tina shares a chilling account of the chaos that has unfolded within my home. It details the fire’s progression from the bathroom to the living room, then the kitchen, before finally reaching the bedroom. In the aftermath of the fire, every scorched corner and crevice is now soaked with water.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ultimately, Tina figures out the exact source of the fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

She replays the video captured by the cameras installed in the apartment, pausing it at the moment I step into the bathroom, light a cigarette, and then toss it into the trash after a few puffs. The footage zooms in on what is left of the cigarette, which ignited the toilet paper in the basket. The flames quickly engulf the paper and the bathroom, spreading throughout the apartment. All the relief I have been looking forward to this weekend and the weeks to come go up in smoke.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCancel all my engagements and get in touch with Yazan. Tell him we are moving in with him,\u201d I say to Tina, my voice heavy with defeat and resignation.<\/span><\/p>\n

I welcome her as she comes closer and wraps her arms around me in a hug.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have no one but you… My best choice yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

*The original text in Arabic can be found here<\/a>.<\/span><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

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