Chapter 9 Borrowed Hours

Sunlight drips lazily through the half‑drawn curtains of the Edrees household, casting golden patterns across Alia's comforter. Her phone buzzes softly on the nightstand, vibrating with a name that now makes her heart race every time.

> Jamal 10:07

HQ's a war zone of colonels and caffeine. Can't stop thinking about you.

A blush warms her cheeks as she curls deeper into the rose‑patterned sheets. The world outside is still and quiet-the kind of morning that asks nothing of her but to feel. And lately, all she's been feeling is him.

> Alia 10:10

Survive your battle, Lieutenant. I'll be here... thinking about that kiss you left on my forehead.

The call comes seconds later, his name lighting up her screen like a love song. She answers, voice soft. "You're supposed to be in a war room."

"I am," Jamal murmurs, his voice dipped in longing. "But you're the only mission I can focus on."

Her breath catches. "That's dangerous talk for a soldier."

"Then lock me up in your heart. It's the only place I want to be stationed."

She laughs, low and breathy. "What would your commanding officers say if they heard you flirting like this?"

"That I've finally gone soft for the right woman."

There's a pause-gentle, charged. Then, with a note of gravity, he adds, "Deployment orders drop in less than two weeks."

The words land like a quiet detonation. Alia closes her eyes, hand tightening on the phone. "So soon?"

"Which means every second we steal until then is sacred," he whispers. "I'm planning something, Ali. A night you'll never forget. Just you, me... and a lake reflecting every star we've ever wished on."

Her heart thuds. "When?"

"Saturday. Nineteen hundred hours. No curfew. No goodbyes. Just forever in borrowed hours."

She's barely nodded when a distant shout echoes through the phone.

"I have to go. But you'll pick out the dress, right?" he says, already smiling through the static. "Something that'll make time jealous."

"You'll see," she whispers. "Be safe, Jamal."

"You're my safest thought."

Click.

Alia sinks into her pillows, phone pressed to her chest, a dreamy smile tugging at her lips.

---

Days of Hurry‑Up‑and‑Wait

Day One

Mid-briefing, Jamal's text arrives like a lifeline:

> Jamal 13:26

Intel dumps are drowning me. Say something sexy. Like... enzyme inhibitors.

She giggles, walking barefoot on the veranda, listing drug classifications like they're love notes. His soft chuckle on the other end wraps around her like a warm blanket.

Day Two

Aisha FaceTimes her from her family home, face gleaming with mischief.

"Wait-you're telling me he booked a lakeside pavilion? Girl, is he proposing or setting up a movie scene?"

Alia laughs, cheeks flushed. "He said no curfew."

Aisha grins. "That's soldier code for: I'm about to make her fall even harder."

Day Three

Grades drop tomorrow. Anxiety rides her spine like a second heartbeat. She tries to study but the words swim.

Jamal's call comes like breath after drowning.

"Close your eyes," he says.

"I already am."

"Now imagine this-moonlight, your favorite drink, me in a suit, your hand in mine, and a playlist I made just for you."

She melts into her seat. "Tell me more."

He does, weaving the night's promise into her bones until every fear fades.

---

Result Day Eve

23:59. One minute to go.

Her laptop's open, cursor blinking on the grade portal. A call comes in. It's Jamal.

"Together?" he asks.

"Always."

The screen refreshes. She gasps, hand flying to her mouth.

"I passed," she breathes. "Everything. I did it-2.65 GPA!"

Jamal exhales a shaky breath, voice reverent. "My miracle. I'm so proud of you, Alia."

She wipes tears from her cheeks. "I couldn't have done it without your faith."

"You did it because you're made of fire and fight," he says. "Tomorrow, we celebrate the woman I've been falling for since the day she walked past me like a storm wrapped in sunshine."

A guard yells in the background. Jamal lowers his voice.

"Sleep, minha rainha. Tomorrow, we write a new chapter."

Click.

Alia stares at the screen, the sapphire ring catching the glow of her desk lamp. Tomorrow, their borrowed hours begin.

---

Saturday – 18:59

A car engine hums to a stop outside.

Alia steps onto the porch in a midnight‑blue wrap dress, curls tumbling over her shoulders, lips glossed in rosewater pink. She sees him-leaning against a black sedan, navy suit hugging every inch of him, a single white lily in hand.

His gaze travels over her slowly, reverently. "You look like the night sky forgot how to hold stars... and gave them all to you."

She smiles, heart thudding. "You clean up nice, Lieutenant."

He opens the door for her, brushing a kiss to her hand as she slides in.

"Tonight," he murmurs, "isn't just a date. It's a memory. A vow. A keepsake."

And as they drive off into moonlight, hearts full of hope and aching tenderness, Alia knows-no matter what distance or danger lies ahead-this night, this love, will never fade.