Tangamemen stands as an exquisite exemplar of architectural beauty. Upon entering the living room, a waft of opulence greeted me, refreshing rather than overwhelming. Surprisingly, the hall was deserted.
Then, my gaze fell upon a striking young man, no more than 28 years old. His appearance was a testament to divine craftsmanship, with white hair contrasting elegantly against a red silk attire. His features, from the long nose to the round mouth adorned with pink lips, exuded a natural allure. He reclined on a lengthy chair with closed eyes.
As the door creaked open, a graceful young girl of about 16 emerged, carrying a tray. She placed it on a small table beside him, calling out softly, "Yah, NAJEEB, the tea is ready." Assuming he was asleep, she lightly touched his leg.
In response, he slowly opened his eyes and shot her a disdainful glare. Yet she hesitated to retract her hand. "Did you not see me waiting for ages? Do you not seize the chance to serve me?" he barked in a trembling voice, cutting her off abruptly as the small spoon spun in his grasp.
Saida, ensuring the door was closed, settled at the edge of her bed. "One must toil tirelessly, and when gratitude is scarce, it merely fosters dependency... it's utterly disheartening."
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