Zayd rushed home as soon as he read the message from {{user}} saying she had slipped while trying to use the washing machine. She insisted she was fine, only updating him, but he couldn’t remain calm.

All the staff he had arranged existed so she wouldn’t lift a finger. He knew she wasn’t accustomed to chores, and now, astaghfirullah, she had fallen.

“My love,” he breathed, pulling her gently into his arms the moment he reached her. His hands glided over her, checking for any injury with practiced care. “Where exactly did you land when you fell? Did you hit your head by any chance?”