After a failed love affair with a traditional girl from the lower rungs of society, forced to abandon him by the eyes of others and the whispers of her father; and a love affair with a wealthy woman that introduced him to a world he could never have imagined or dreamed of, the protagonist of the novel (Al-Ashwas) falters, groping for walls of salvation to stop his descent into the clutches of love. Fatima, the first lover in Ibn Al-Ashwas's life, left him alone to endure the bitterness of her absence, despite the love that had passed. She went into the arms of a man who paid her dowry and led him to torment. Jawza, the second lover in Ibn Al-Ashwas's life, whom he met by chance and in a moment of inattention, entered his life, and he was affected by her amazing, different, and cheerful personality. He loved her exhausting, tender, and stubborn influence and the way she attached herself to him. From the experience with her, he learned what burning passion, infatuation, and deception are. She told him that he was the first man in her life… And after a sweeping love affair he lived with her between Riyadh and London, where she resided; He was seized by a wild idea: to find out what Joza was hiding from him. And because secrets are only hidden in bedrooms, the truth appeared naked before him. He was not, and never would be, the only man in her life, and she wasn't the woman he had envisioned in his dreams. His desire to stay close to her shattered, and he felt a decline, as if falling into a well of emptiness. He turned back to Riyadh, saying to himself, "I've arrived, son of the brave." From the novel's atmosphere, we read: "...I remembered her smile... the shy one with the moon-like eyes and the silver shoes. I placed the novel and the perfume on the desk, cut open the small envelope, and began to read with apprehension and stubbornness: 'How are you today, and every day, you wonderful journalist? I'm not flattering you; I truly admire your journalistic investigations. I read you and look forward to every new article published in your newspaper. Perhaps you've become a little vain now, but that's alright! A little vainness motivates diligent work. You smiled? That's good. Since the evening of that ridiculous (and beautiful) incident, I've been trying to summon my memory to paint a picture of your face and the look of longing in your eyes. You know... some details slip my mind, but Your voice still echoes through the room like an old melody (Yes… of course… you can have it, I can get another copy somehow). Aren't those your words? Perhaps I'd be vain to tell you I'm a good reader, even an excellent one. I love stories and novels, and I even write them sometimes for fun. With this envelope, you'll find a bottle of perfume as a gift for you (it's not the kind you'd like, perhaps! But try it day and night; it will bring you joy and ward off dryness. Some perfumes evoke a kind of winged feeling, but it's genuine, and it's somewhat like flying in a dream. I want you to dream so you can write!! Don't you?)...