Dalia looks at the key card in her hand. A week at Hotel Belmond Splendido. Quite a mouthful.
She checks into her room and starts unpacking. As she sorts through her things, a polaroid slips out of her diary and lands on the bed—a picture of her and Hamza. Her heart clenches.
Oh, Hamza... what are you doing right now? Are you safe?
She holds the photo tightly.
Please protect him, Allah. You're the only one who can.
Tears well up in her eyes. Hamza—her brother. She may not see him, but she can always remember his smile, his courage as he left for Palestine.
No time to lose focus, Dalia. She wipes her eyes and straightens her shoulders. We need to pull this off. For us. For Hamza.
Taking a deep breath, she stands up and walks to the balcony. Sliding the door open, she steps out. The view is breathtaking, stretching far beyond the luxurious grounds of the hotel. This place is clearly for the rich.
"Ahh..." She closes her eyes, leaning against the railing, allowing herself a brief moment of peace.
"Soon."
"YEAHHHH, WE MEET AGAIN SO SOONNNN!"
A familiar voice disrupts her thoughts. She frowns, looking up.
Lorenzo flashes a bright smile as he practically topples over his own railing, ready to jump from his floor to hers.
"Ah, Mr. Lorenzo. You've got more persistence than a mosquito at a summer barbecue. Take the hint before I start swatting!"
"You wound me, Cara Mia," he says dramatically, clutching his chest.
Dalia rolls her eyes and turns back toward her room. She does not have the patience for another conversation that raises her blood pressure.
"WAAAITTTTT!"
She looks up again, already exasperated.
"They don't love you like I love you."
She freezes. "Did you seriously just sing a TikTok trend?"
"Oh, so you do know fun?"
Enzo grins and launches into a long-winded speech.
"Soooo, maybe I was thinking... maybe it is actually fate and we should give it a chance. You know, I might've been a little too quick before, and I'm willing—"
"No, boy. Get back to school."
"Listen up, lady. Let me finish. You've had your way, now hear me out." He clears his throat. "As I was saying, I'm willing to take things slow. I just want you to give me a chance. If it doesn't work out, I won't bother you anymore. With that being said, I would like to formally ask you out for dinner tonight. I'll have some things escorted to you, so please wait for them kindly."
Dalia studies his face, then looks around. Then down at her feet.
The next thing Enzo knows, a slipper is soaring toward his face with the speed and accuracy of a true Egyptian warrior.
He screams.
Befitting.
Dalia lets out a loud chuckle and walks back inside, pausing only to say, "Yeah, deliver that slipper, or you might not—let's just say—survive."
"At least accept dinner!"
"I'll think about it."
"So, I can court you?"
"No."
"Can I try to court you?"
"No."
"Can I try to talk to you?"
"Maybe."
With that last word, she walks off with a small smile.
Well, maybe he's not that bad.