Aishat sat at the reception desk of Delight Hotel, her fingers idly tapping against the keyboard as she stared at the grand chandelier hanging in the center of the lobby. The golden glow of the crystals reminded her of a life she didn't have—a life she wanted desperately. A life where she wasn't stuck behind a desk, wearing a stiff uniform, dealing with demanding guests and an even more demanding family.
She sighed, resting her chin on her palm as her eyes wandered to the entrance. Guests walked in and out, draped in designer clothes, their expensive perfumes lingering in the air. She imagined herself among them—not as the girl checking them in, but as the woman they admired. A woman with money, power, and the kind of freedom she only read about in magazines.
In her fantasy, she wasn't Aishat, the overworked hotel receptionist living under her parents' roof, where every decision was questioned and every dream dismissed. No, she was Aishat, the rich Aishat. The one who woke up in silk sheets, in a penthouse suite, with nothing but luxury surrounding her. The one who took trips to Dubai on a whim, wore diamonds as casually as lip gloss, and had men wrapped around her fingers like fine lace.
A sly smile curved her lips as she let her mind wander further.
She imagined herself draped in a figure-hugging red dress, sipping champagne at an exclusive rooftop party, the city lights shimmering behind her. A rich businessman—tall, confident, and dangerously charming—would slide beside her, his hand resting lightly on her thigh, whispering things that made her skin heat. Or maybe she'd be lounging on a private yacht, basking under the sun, a lover feeding her strawberries, his fingers lingering on her lips longer than necessary.
In her dreams, she was untouchable. Desired. Powerful.
But the harsh ring of the hotel phone shattered the illusion. She blinked, the fantasy fading like a distant mirage. With a sigh, she straightened in her chair and answered the call, her voice slipping into the polite tone she'd mastered over the years.
"Yes, this is Delight Hotel, how may I assist you?"
And just like that, she was back to reality—Aishat, the hotel receptionist. Not the rich girl with an intoxicating life. Not yet.
But someday.