Emily worked at an auditing firm and considered herself an independent and financially secure woman. She had earned enough to buy an apartment, and a beautiful foreign car was nearly within reach, just a step away from becoming reality. But before that, Emily, like all successful women, felt she had to travel abroad. That was where her plans for the near future ended, except for one thing money couldn’t buy: personal happiness, the kind Emily dreamed of.
She was already 30, yet she hadn’t met the man she wanted to share the rest of her life with. She often wondered why even her less attractive friends and colleagues had long since started families and found men who cared for them, while she remained alone. Sure, she’d had short-lived relationships, but none made her feel loved—always just indifference. Emily frequently asked herself why someone like her, beautiful, stylishly dressed, and well-groomed, couldn’t find true love, the kind that happens once and lasts a lifetime. What was wrong with her? She pondered this but found no answers.
For a vacation in Dubai, she planned to go with her friend Sarah, who was deeply depressed after a breakup and agreed to join Emily to heal her emotional wounds.
The tickets were booked, suitcases packed, and their flight was in two days. Emily was thrilled about her overseas trip, falling asleep and waking up with thoughts of all the new experiences awaiting her, her first time abroad.
Sarah had already visited the destination with her boyfriend, so Emily felt confident traveling with an experienced friend.
Emily’s vacation had just started, and she could finally sleep in before the long journey, but early in the morning, her phone woke her. It was Sarah.
— Emily, sorry, did I wake you? — Sarah said softly.
— Yeah, you did. Well, what’s done is done. Why do you need me so early? — Emily replied, half-joking.
— Emily, you won’t believe it, but I made up with my Tommy yesterday. He came with flowers, said he can’t live without me, that he was a fool for leaving. Anyway, I can’t go. Tommy just got a job; no one’s going to give him time off. And I can’t afford to pay for both of us. Plus, he won’t let me go alone. You know how much I love him, you saw how devastated I was. I can’t push him away now. I just can’t.
Emily’s heart sank, tears welling up. How could this happen? she thought. Why didn’t she have that one person to share plans and a life with?
— Okay, Sarah, bye for now, — Emily said and hung up.
All her plans and dreams went up in smoke. What now? She didn’t know anyone who could join her on such short notice, and going alone to a foreign country felt impossible. What would she even do there by herself? Her mood was ruined. She lay in bed, wanting to do nothing, though just yesterday her day had been fully planned. Upset, she fell back asleep.
She woke up closer to noon, replaying Sarah’s call in her mind. She started feeling more confident. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Why couldn’t she go on vacation alone? She wasn’t foolish; she’d figure it out.
The flight went smoothly, a taxi took her to the right hotel, and soon she was sitting on her room’s balcony, sipping a cocktail brought to her, gazing at the sea, and thinking how unlucky Sarah was, stuck back in the States, while she, Emily, was here in beautiful Dubai, watching the ocean.
After resting, she went down to the hotel café, ordered a cocktail, and curiously observed the foreign tourists.
— Hello, beautiful, — someone said in decent English with a strong accent.
She turned. A handsome, tall, young Arab man stood nearby.
— Hello, — she replied.
— My name is Aziz, — he said.
— Nice to meet you, I’m Emily.
— You have a beautiful name, and you’re very beautiful. I noticed you from afar and knew right away you were American. American women are stunning, but you’re something special. I’ve never met anyone like you—you’re like a goddess!
Emily was flattered by Aziz’s words but cautious, aware of stories about failed romances involving American women and Arab men who sometimes took advantage of them. Still, she decided to chat with him, especially since she was alone and craved conversation.
Aziz ordered two more piña coladas and, with her permission, sat beside her, sharing his story. He was 25, had graduated from a university in the States, which explained his decent English, and worked at his father’s factory. He could only afford to stroll the beach twice a month, and today was one of those rare days off when he met Emily. They spent hours walking along the shore, sipping cocktails, splashing in the water, and he twirled her in his arms. Emily felt like she’d known him forever—she’d never met such a caring and intelligent man. American men didn’t compare to foreigners, she thought. Her country felt behind in sophistication and intellect. He walked her back to her hotel and left.
Emily returned to her room, collapsed onto the bed, exhausted and happy, and drifted into dreams about Aziz, falling asleep with those thoughts.
The next morning, she stepped onto her balcony and saw Aziz standing below with a bouquet of flowers.
The vacation flew by. They met every evening, spending nights on the beach. She fell in love. This was the real man, she thought. This was where her destiny lay.
The day of her departure arrived, and the fairy tale ended. She and Aziz agreed she’d return in a month to get married. Aziz said he’d spoken to his father, confessing his love for an American woman, and his father had approved their marriage. Emily told him she couldn’t live like local women, staying home; she was used to working and socializing. Aziz assured her he’d discussed it with his father, who promised to hire her as an accountant at the factory, exempting her from local laws restricting women’s rights.
Aziz saw her off at the airport, and with hopes of a soon reunion, Emily flew home.
Back home, Emily immediately listed her apartment for sale and submitted her resignation, as her vacation was nearly over, and she had so much to prepare before leaving.
She found buyers quickly by offering a steep discount. She told no one about moving to Dubai with Aziz, knowing people would bombard her with horror stories from the internet or TV. She told her mother she was going on a long work trip. She decided she’d introduce her mom to Aziz as her son-in-law when they visited together. Aziz called daily, asking about her progress and spending hours professing his love, saying how much he missed her. Emily’s heart ached to see him again.
At the airport again, then the plane, another airport, and there was Aziz in the crowd of greeters. She ran to him, eager to embrace her beloved and never part again.
They took a taxi, driving through a stunning city of skyscrapers and beautiful avenues. But soon they left the city, traveling down a bumpy, dusty, sandy road for another 40 minutes until a small village appeared on the horizon, with high fences revealing only the tops of buildings. The car stopped at one such fence. Emily looked at Aziz questioningly.
— Get out, we’re here, — he said in a harsh, unfamiliar tone.
Her heart sank, but she reassured herself that he was probably just tired. They got out, and Aziz roughly pushed her toward the gate. They entered a courtyard with a low, sunken house, animal pens, and chicken coops nearby, the stench overwhelming.
They walked through a narrow, long corridor, then another, with several doors leading to rooms. Aziz opened one, and Emily stepped into a dim, shabby room. A wide bed covered with an old rag stood against the wall, with wooden shelves and an uncovered plank floor. Aziz grabbed a wide black robe, loose white pants, and a face-covering scarf from a shelf and tossed them to Emily.
— Put these on. We’re going to eat, and I’ll introduce you to my family. Sit quietly, don’t speak, just nod if anyone addresses you.
Emily changed into the clothes and followed him. It felt like she was walking beside a stranger, not the caring Aziz she loved.
They entered a large, equally rundown room where men and women sat in a circle on the floor, large plates of what looked like pilaf in the center. They were talking loudly until Emily and Aziz entered, then fell silent, staring at them. A woman emerged from a dark corner and handed them two small cushions. They joined the circle. An older man said something to Emily in Arabic; she nodded. Everyone began eating the pilaf with their hands from the shared tray, licking their fingers before grabbing more rice. Nausea rose in Emily’s throat. Aziz jabbed her shoulder painfully and hissed in her ear:
— Eat. If you don’t, it’s disrespectful to my family.
Emily forced down two pinches of rice, barely suppressing her gag reflex. When the meal finally ended, they returned to the room. Emily vomited at the entrance, unable to hold it in.
— Where have you brought me? Why am I in some shack? You said your father was wealthy, that you ran a big factory. Did you lie to me? — she shouted, nearly hysterical.
Aziz slapped her hard across the face.
— You’ll do what I tell you now. Don’t you dare insult my family. You answer to me, and you won’t take a step without my permission, — he said viciously.
— I’m leaving tomorrow. I can’t live like this. Why did you deceive me?
Emily grabbed her purse—no bank cards, no documents, no phone. Fear gripped her; she felt like a hostage, not even a person, but something faceless and humiliated. Aziz left, locking the door behind him. She collapsed onto the bed, no tears left, consumed by fear and hopelessness.
In the morning, Aziz returned. Without a word, he approached the still-sleeping Emily and began tearing off her clothes. It happened quickly and roughly, nothing like their long nights on the beach.
— Get dressed. You’ll clean the animal pens. Mornings, you clean up after the cows and chickens. I’ll show you where. When you’re done, you’ll help in the kitchen, then you can rest. Don’t even think about running—without documents, the police will arrest you, and you’ll be locked up for a long time.
They entered a massive cow shed.
— I won’t finish this by evening, — Emily said.
— You’d better finish before the herd returns. If it’s not clean, I’ll lock you in here for the night, — Aziz shouted. — I spent a whole month on you, gave you a month of love to convince you to come back. Now you’ll work off the time I wasted.
— Why did you bother if you didn’t need me? Why did you ask me to come? — Emily said, crying.
— I knew you had money and planned to scam you. But then you said you had an apartment and were buying a nice car, so I figured I could get more out of you. I played the love game, and you fell for it, like all you American women. I’d never marry an American! Now do what I say, or it’ll be worse! — Aziz said and left.
Emily realized she was utterly alone in a distant, foreign country, a hostage to a man she had so recently loved but now feared.
She finished cleaning the cow shed late in the evening. Her hands ached, blisters bled, and she was starving, only now realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, and no one had offered her anything.
Emily returned to the room, collapsed onto the bed exhausted, and felt like a slave.
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