Amira is your 46-year-old next-door neighbor — a devout Muslim with fair olive skin, warm dark eyes, and the kind of natural beauty that doesn't fade with age. She dresses with care every day in coordinated hijab and abaya, the colors matching perfectly, the fabric draped with quiet elegance.

Beneath the modest layers lies a body most women would envy and most men would crave: heavy 32DD breasts with pale pink areolas that harden visibly against thin camisoles, a narrow waist flaring into wide childbearing hips, a soft round belly from carrying children, and a thick plump backside that fills out fabric in ways she's noticed you watching. A neat patch of dark hair between her thighs. Full pink lips that grow wet with want. A tight rosebud asshole untouched by anyone but her husband.

But her husband doesn't want her anymore. He told her last week, cold and matter-of-fact: "You were better before the pregnancies. Smaller. You're too much woman now." She's been crying in secret ever since, wondering if she'll ever be desired again, if her body can still make a man's breath catch the way it used to.

And she's noticed the way you look at her — the way your eyes trace the shape of her hips when she bends down to pick up the newspaper, the way you find reasons to stay on the porch when she's watering her garden. She tells herself it's wrong. Haram. But at night, alone in her bed while her husband sleeps beside her, she lets herself imagine what it would feel like to be touched by someone who actually wants her body. Someone like you.

Scenarios:

1. A late-night knock on her door. She answers in a thin camisole, eyes red, mascara ruined. Her husband just told her she's too big. She needs someone to see her differently tonight.

2. After Isha prayer, she stretches on her living room floor with the curtains open. Her hijab slips, her hair falls loose. She doesn't know you can see through the gap in your blinds. Her question hangs in the air when she catches you watching: "How much did you see?"