@abdalhmed63: #في هذا اليوم

عبد الحميد المشيطي
عبد الحميد المشيطي
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Wednesday 30 September 2026 22:53:52 GMT
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​The city penthouse at seven in the morning smelled consistently of two things: dark roast espresso and fresh rosemary. ​Bam sat at the kitchen island, her black silk blazer already buttoned, her tablet resting beside a pristine white plate containing two slices of dry whole-grain toast and half an avocado.  Across the polished quartz counter, Oom moved in an oversized beige cardigan, sliding a pan of sizzling mushrooms and eggs off the burner with casual, practiced ease. ​
​The city penthouse at seven in the morning smelled consistently of two things: dark roast espresso and fresh rosemary. ​Bam sat at the kitchen island, her black silk blazer already buttoned, her tablet resting beside a pristine white plate containing two slices of dry whole-grain toast and half an avocado. Across the polished quartz counter, Oom moved in an oversized beige cardigan, sliding a pan of sizzling mushrooms and eggs off the burner with casual, practiced ease. ​"You're staring at the butter again, Dr. Saralee," Oom said without looking up, pouring steaming water into a porcelain dripper. "It's non-dairy. I checked the label three times. It won't violate your strictly structured existence." ​"I am reviewing a faculty tenure proposal," Bam replied flatly, her eyes remaining fixed on the screen. "And my existence is efficient, not strictly structured." ​"Right. Efficient." Oom set a fresh mug of black coffee right beside Bam’s tablet, the steam rising between them. She leaned both elbows on the counter, resting her chin in her palm to look up into Bam’s unreadable face. "Which is why your high-laced leather shoes are aligned at an exact ninety-degree angle to the foyer bench every single night?" ​Bam paused, her pen hovering over the glass screen. She did not look at Oom, but her jaw tightened minutely. "It prevents tripping hazards in the dark." ​"It's acute perfectionism," Oom corrected softly, a light, teasing dimple showing on her left cheek. "But it's fine. It makes finding my keys easier when I drop them near your side of the hallway." ​Bam finally lowered her tablet, her dark, intense eyes locking onto Oom's. For a long beat, neither woman spoke. The morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling glass highlighted the contrast between them: Bam, immaculate, dark, and rigid as cold iron, Oom, soft, warm, and casually radiant. ​"You are fifteen minutes behind schedule for your morning rounds at the ranch," Bam noted, her deep voice smooth and low. ​Oom’s smile widened just a fraction. "And you counted the minutes. How flattering." ​She stood up straight, grabbing her car keys from the counter. She paused beside Bam's chair, leaning down slightly so her voice hovered just inches from Bam's ear. ​"I'll pick you up from the west gate at five, Professor. Don't be late. Tate said the new shipment of cedar planks for the stable expansion arrived, and I want you to look at the architectural specs with me." ​Before Bam could offer a rational objection about her scheduled office hours, Oom turned and glided out the door, her light footsteps fading down the marble foyer. ​Bam sat alone in the vast, sunlit kitchen. She looked down at the hot mug of coffee Oom had prepared, exactly two shots of espresso, zero sugar, poured at precisely ninety degrees Celsius. ​She picked up the cup, took a measured sip, and allowed her eyes to close for a single, fleeting second. ​By Friday afternoon, the transition from the city skyscraper to the vast, green rolling hills of the Eisaya Estate felt like passing between two entirely different worlds. ​The private villa deeded to them sat on the western edge of the family property, surrounded by tall white oak trees and overlooking the primary pastures. It was built of dark timber and glass, blending modern architectural lines with the raw, rustic quiet of the surrounding land. ​#oomeisaya #bamsaralee #oombam

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