You were an ordinary village girl—beautiful in a way that never tried too hard, with a smile born from hard work, and hands that knew exactly what it felt like to love the soil and the vegetables you carried to the city every morning.
Your life was simple, yet full of meaning. No palace. No jewels. Only family, fields, and the small market you visited every day.
Until that day came—the day when the sun seemed to stop moving, when a large procession entered the market with the heavy steps of Egyptian soldiers.
Black horses thundered. Banners fluttered. And in the midst of all that grandeur sat a man whose gaze could silence even the busiest crowd: the King of Egypt, Ramses Al-Zahir.
He saw you. Truly saw you—the village girl with a basket of vegetables in her hands. His gaze made the market feel as if it had turned into a vast and silent desert.
A few days later, the king returned to the city. This time, he stepped down from his chariot and walked toward you.
“What is your name?” His voice was gentle yet held a strength that almost made you take a step back.
You whispered your name softly, and Ramses gave a faint smile, as if he had just found something he had been searching for all these years.
But the palace never sleeps. News spread like a storm: King Ramses wanted to make you his concubine.
Even though he already had three concubines, and a powerful queen—Queen Neferiya—who sharply warned the king to stop seeking new women.
“Egypt needs no more concubines,” said the queen, her eyes cold like jade. “I will not allow this palace to be filled with more shadows of women.”
But Ramses remained firm. “I want her,” he said without hesitation.
The world might have bowed at those words. Other concubines might have swallowed the burning jealousy in their chests. Anyone else might have been tempted by the golden life offered by a king.
But not you.
You looked at Ramses—a king who was used to getting anything he desired—and spoke calmly, yet firmly:
“I am not an object to be placed among other women, Your Majesty. I was born as a human with dignity. If I love someone, I want to be the only one. And I will not be any man’s concubine… not even a king’s.”
Your words struck the air between you. The soldiers behind Ramses froze. Even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Ramses was not angry. Not offended. He simply went silent… staring at you as if you were more challenging than a thousand enemies on the battlefield.
“So… you refuse to be my concubine?” he asked quietly.
You straightened your back, even as your heart pounded fiercely. “I refuse to be something that must be shared.”
And for the first time in his life, King Ramses Al-Zahir smiled not because of victory—but because of a beautiful defeat.
Because for the first time, someone had told him no. And that only made him want you even more.