Somewhere in the heart of Dubai, among the glass and steel towers, where every street discharges luxury and the air smells of money, there was a restaurant called the Pearl of the Orient.
It was a place for those who could provide everything except sympathy.
Here, every chair was adorned with gold threads, and the service was not human, but shadows.
But it was here, in this world of perfection, that Safia worked, a woman with dark circles under her eyes but with her head held high.
Safia was not born into a rich family, but into a simple house in the suburbs of Sharjah.
Her father passed away early, her mother was ill, and the girl took her fate into her own hands before she even understood what childhood was.
Working as a waitress in such a place is not her dream, but it is the only way to survive until the baby is born.
That evening was like any other – noisy, tense, with an endless stream of orders. But suddenly the manager ran up to her, almost snatching the tray from her hands:
– You’ve been called to table 12. This is Said al-Mahmoud.
He wants the best waiter.
Safiya froze. Said’s name was known to everyone. Rich, powerful, cruel.
“I’m pregnant,” she muttered.
“Maybe someone else?”
“He chose you. Don’t argue,” the manager answered. “We can’t lose him.”
After she approached, she felt his contemptuous gaze – as if she were not a person, but a random speck of dust in the air.
“I asked for an experienced waiter, not a woman about to give birth,” he muttered.
“What kind of circus is this?
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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