Nadiraa was the kind of woman who made heads turn wherever she went. Men followed her with their eyes. They sent her flowers, bought her gifts, and whispered promises of forever. But Nadiraa never chose easily. She tested every man who came near her.
One man took her to dinner. That night, she pretended to fall asleep with her makeup still on. In the morning, he laughed and said, “You don’t need all that paint on your face. I want to see the real you.”
Nadiraa smiled politely, but inside she was done with him. She never called him again.
Another invited her into the water at the beach. She shook her head and said she did not like water. He teased her and tried to pull her in anyway. That was the last time she answered his messages.
And then there were the ones who begged to see her natural face. The moment they asked, she closed her heart to them.
For Nadiraa, there was one rule: no one could ever see her without makeup.
People thought she was just proud, maybe a little vain. But to Nadiraa, her makeup was not just beauty. It was her shield.
And so she remained a mystery every man wanted to solve, but none could ever truly touch.
Nadiraa’s makeup table looked like a small shop. Powders, brushes, lipsticks, and creams were lined up neatly, shining under the lamp. Every morning and every night, she sat there painting her face with the same careful hands.
She wore makeup to the market. She wore makeup when she slept. Even when she was sick in bed, she asked for a mirror and powder before anyone could see her.
To Nadiraa, a face without makeup did not exist. It was not part of the world.
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