In the heart of the Arabian desert, a luxurious resort stood as an oasis for weary travelers. Among its many amenities was a high-end spa, boasting a separate changing room for men and women.
One afternoon, as the sun began to set, a woman named Layla entered the women’s changing room. She was a 28-year-old Syrian beauty, with dark curls cascading down her back and mesmerizing almond-shaped eyes. Dressed in a flowing robe, she made her way to a private changing stall.
As Layla prepared to disrobe, she noticed a petite figure huddled in the corner of the stall next to hers. The girl appeared to be no older than 18, with porcelain skin, emerald green eyes, and auburn hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She was trembling, her eyes wide with fear.
“Are you alright, my dear?” Layla asked, her voice filled with concern.
The girl looked up, her eyes filling with tears. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I-I’ve never been to a place like this before. I’m afraid.”
