Re-telling of an Arab series story in my own way and vision with a total re-creation of the characters. Basically, I am just using the main plot.
The dawn broke, and the sky as it glowed with brighter shades, defined the sea’s outline in the distance. Foamy waves followed one another in a constant pattern and embraced the sandy beach before they melted back into the sea. By and by, the sun rose, and seagulls spread their wings to soar into the air or found their way to fly near the shimmering water. It was a soothing scene to the viewer who stood contemplating the rising of nature from the ashes of the night, but to Narissa it was not. The sea, in its unpredictable nature, terrified her, and she always feared the world that underlay its calm surface.
It was morning now. Mediterranean currents of air blew by and carried the sea-scented breeze into Narissa's room. She stirred in her blankets recognizing that salty scent that penetrated her nostrils. Suddenly, she opened her eyes in panic.
It was not a nightmare.
“It was not a dream,” whispered the man who lied beside her on the bed. He had been deriving a twisted pleasure in watching her meekly, obediently, and submissively sound asleep by his side.
She faked a pretty smile when she saw him, but the pained look in her eyes radiated as though to remind him how much agonized she was. He, however, tried to convince himself that she wasn't.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely.
She replied in a barely audible voice, “Morning.”
He dragged her very close to him and wrapped his arms around her, then he looked affectionately into her brown eyes and declared smugly, “we are finally in our heaven!"
In your heaven, she wanted to say, but she pushed the thought away and remained silent.
"Don't be silent my Nessie." He shortened her name to Nessie when he once read the name meant chaste, trying verbally to subside his nervous doubts that she was the opposite. Though he even doubted his doubts, the image of an unfaithful wife haunted him and turned him sometimes into a beast.
"I just have nothing to say. I wanna take a bath," she said flatly.
"You will be happy here," he promised her. Both of them knew the futility of such promises. Both of them knew that he used sugar-coated words to other purposes, most of which was to ease off the guilt he felt for what he was doing to her. And she often replied with a knowing smile.
When she was freed of his tight grip, she stood to her feet and closed the ajar window, avoiding any glance at the sea-view. She then made her way to the bathroom.
Soaking herself in the bathtub, she inhaled sharply and looked at the diamond ring on her ring-finger and remembered:
She was a still studying in Sicilian School; a school for gifted architects, when she and Bryan met. It didn't need a second look to tell that his luxurious life was at opposite pole from hers, but that wasn't a deterrent. "I truly love you, Narissa," he would tell her sincerely. Though the heat of this exclusive passion wasn't equally mutual, Narissa didn't second-think accepting his proposal, because it was universally admitted that a poor girl rejecting a flawless, rich man was a course of insanity.
I wish I had known what I knew now.
When she finished and got dressed, she found him sitting next door in his suit.
“I am going to work. I don’t have to remind you that the intention behind my acts is to protect you,” he told her, then he took her in his arms and smelled, almost frantically, the vanilla smell that adhered to her body, but as he did he glanced at the towel in the bathroom. He pushed her away gently and adjusted it to a more neat position, and came back to her.
“Stick to the rules,” he hissed.
“I will, darling!” she replied, trying to fake a nice tone.