"Come on my darling, why are your dreams so sad today? 

Don't dive into dark night without your dreams, as I am here with you, my darling.

I am your Moon in the sky, your flower in the see, your destined beloved. 

If you are restless, what are you thinking of? 

Don't exhaust your-self, I am your true beloved. 

I need you to be healthy, I need you to be happy.

I prefer you as a loving me, come on my darling come on. 

I wish you to have a happy and meaningful life, and I wish if I could be your beloved, please be with me forever..."

"Again! 'gain!" said Zacky, clapping at Zizi.

Clara sighed, tucking him tighter. "Nu-uh, sweetie, Aunt Zizi already sang it three times. It's time to sleep. You promised."

"But-"

"No buts, young man," chimed Zizi, trying her best to appear stern. "Say goodnight to mommy and aunty. Give us some sugar." 

Sneaking some butterfly kisses between hugs and giggles, Zacky closed his eyes to allow the sandman to take him away. 

Zizi sat next to him on the bed, slowly caressing his auburn hair with utmost care, as if he was made of porcelain.

Clara's curiosity got the better of her, whispering to whisper disrupting Zacky. "Now that I think about it, that's a pretty weird song. Doesn't even rhyme that much"

Zizi giggled like a girl twenty years younger. "Yes, it's a funny story, I guess. Baba used to sing it when I was little. Of course, he sang in Arabic, which actually rhymes. It goes something like, yalla Habibi, yalla yalla habibi, nechun bugun hay."

She let out a very unladylike yawn — it was way past her bedtime. "It always makes me even sleepier than normal. Good thing I don't have any children, or I would fall asleep singing."

There was something a bit sad about the way she said that. Maybe it was her tone, or the way she watched the sleeping child, softly breathing in Morpheus' embrace, that gave her a melancholic air . It was something that Clara could not let pass.

"Zizi, sweetie, you know, keeping your feelings bottled up like that is gonna mess with your noggin. Tell momma what's wrong."

"It's nothing, just some silly thoughts."

Clara didn't buy that. "C'mon. You know I'm a busybody. I'll poke you until you tell me."

And poke she did. Poke poke poke, with a frisky finger, softly on her cheeks and belly. Zizi was quite ticklish, which for Clara was always an easy way to cheer her up. 

"Stop, Clara! Don't!" Zizi yelled, squirming around the bed. "I'm gonna pee!"

"Yield, scoundrel!"

"We will wake up Zacky!"

"Oh, right. Shoot," said Clara, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Too late," muttered Zacky, flipping to face away from the pair while clutching the blanket. 

It almost made Zizi burst out a laugh again. She was happy just lying on the bed, catching her breath. Her hair was everywhere, her dress was a mess, but at least she was happy again. 

"I hate tickling. It's not funny, at all. Now I'm sleepy and grumpy."

Clara poked Zizi one more time on her cheek, before offering a hand to stand up. Zizi waved her dismissively, obviously not strong enough to stand up just yet. "Sorry. It's just that kids mess me up. It's a reminder."

Clara knew that kids were a touchy subject for her. The day Zack was born, Zizi cried while holding him. She wanted to ask her about it at that time, but Henry suggested otherwise. Whatever the reason was, no doubt it was something that weighted heavy on her. Did she dare push her right now, with Henry out of sight?

She tried mouthing the words, but they refused to leave her mouth, so she resigned to lovingly patting down her messy hair. She would get the chance to ask her, later.

Zizi batted her hand away with a growl. "I'm gonna fall asleep if you do that."

"You can catch your z's here. I don't mind, sweetie."

Zizi stood with a grunt, staring at the wall. The cogs in her brain were almost visibly turning by the mental strain. She waited a few seconds before shaking her head from side to side. "Don't worry. Henry got us a room, and he'll flip out if I disappear. You know how he is."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a bit too loud, and entirely too desperate. "Clara! Your King demands you to open up this damn door! I gotta take a wicked piss!"

It was, undoubtedly, the voice of a very drunk Murray trying to barge in.

Sure enough, there he was on the other side of the door, using William as a crutch. His tie was up to his forehead. A bottle of cheap scotch was clenched under his armpit — almost empty, of course.

"Sorry, Aunt Clara. I found him in the lobby, trying to piss on the fountain. There's no fountain in the lobby."

Murray snickered. "I'll make a fountain of piss. Lemme at 'em!" He fumbled to the bathroom, not even closing the door before doing his business.

"Jesus, Murray! I'm sorry. Willy, can you help Zinet to her room? I'll deal with this Irish fart myself. Go on, shoo, shoo!" 

She shoved William through the door, with Zizi following shortly after, walking slowly and a bit wobbly. 

They walked the elevators while Zizi dug through her purse, looking for her key-card. 

"What floor, ma'am?" piped William.

"I don't remember. Henry didn't tell me exactly where it was. I heard the number from the girl with the glasses, but I kinda forgot."

"Girl with the glasses... Linda?" inquired William.

"Yes. The chubby one. All business and no play. I wonder if she's around. I can't find the damn thing."

William scratched his chin in thought. "Haven't seen her in a while. She went with Mr. White and my uncle a few hours ago with some guys. Afterward, only Uncle Murray returned, drunk as a sailor."

"Well, they must be around. Why don't you — Oh, here it is. Never mind." She produced the key card from the bottom of her purse. It read "918". With a visible relief, Zizi pushed the button to call the elevator up.

The room was in the topmost floor, and the elevators of the hotel were sluggish, at best. What she thought would only take a few seconds became a few minutes, with no elevator in sight. The ever-present figure of William next to her, picking lint out of his dusty satchel, made both of them increasingly uncomfortable with every passing second. Zizi tried making some small talk to pass the time, or at least to fill in the silence. "So, how long have you been working in this little family of ours?"

"Brand new," quipped William, fidgeting with the strap of his satchel — a tick he picked up back in high school. "I started in September as an assistant to Uncle Murray. I pitched him some marketing ideas and they seemed to be a hit.  But Mr. White didn't like them."

Zizi giggled, fiddling with the key card. "Henry is rough around the edges but he has a good heart, deep, deep inside. Pander to him and you'll be fine. If he likes you, he'll hear you. The key is making him believe he came up with whatever idea you're trying to pitch him. Can't be married to someone so long not to pick up on how he ticks."

"Thanks, ma'am. If I get another chance, I'll try that. For now, it's back to serving coffee for my uncle."

"Just put a dash of whiskey in there, and you'll keep him happy all day."

William laughed just enough to break the tension in the air. The ding of the elevator light finally ringed, indicating that it had reached their floor. The doors slowly opened, letting a couple of guests out. William made a bow at Zizi, with an exaggerated hand motion to boot.

"Ladies first!" he said with a fake English accent.

"What a fine gentleman," said Zizi with an accent on her own. "Cheers, mate."

Once in, he pushed the buttons for the 9th floor and for the Mezzanine. Zizi took this time to thoroughly examine him. He was not bad looking, with a frizzy mane of brown hair and deep, almost black eyes. A little bit on the lanky side, but nothing that a good diet wouldn't fix. His slick glasses did manage to frame his face quite a bit. But somehow, he still looked rather goofy and disproportionate. Definitely not her cup of tea, but she could see the appeal.

"So, tell me, William; is there a special person in your life?"

He blushed a little at the sudden question, trying to play it cool. "No, ma'am. Single as cheap cheese. Kinda hard to get a date with my work schedule."

"I see," scoffed Zizi playfully. "Don't despair. I found Henry while working for my father's company. There's no reason why both of those lives can't overlap."

"Company policies are a good reason to me," replied William.

Zizi dismissed it with a snort. "Nonsense. You can't put a policy on love. As long as it's pure, push it to the limit. I'm sure you will find a lady-friend in no time."

"Thanks, ma'am," replied William. "But I'm more of a gentleman who is into other gentlemen."

"Oh," blurted Zizi. And that was the end of that conversation. Just in time, for the elevator had just pulled into the 9th floor.

"Goodnight, William. And good luck!"

William bowed again, tapping two fingers on his forehead as a salute. Just as the doors were closing, Zizi suddenly fell forward, breaking her fall with her knee. William bolted out the elevator to catch her, barely making it in time.

"Ma'am! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Zizi waved him off, trying to stand up on her own, to no avail. William placed her right arm around his neck for support, lifting her up with his weight.

"Thank you, William... I'm okay. Just a little bit tired is all. Let me rest for a bit and you can be on your way."

"Are you sure? I can walk you to your room if you like."

Zizi tried to steady herself up again, to a degree of success. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Seems like you missed the elevator because of me. Please forgive me." 

Just as she said, while he helped her out, the elevator doors closed behind him, drifting away to the Mezzanine.

"Crap. Don't worry. I can always call a new one. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine. Go. My room is just around the corner. Call a new elevator. Good night, William."

He reluctantly did as instructed, pushing the button for a new elevator.

Zizi walked slowly towards the room, placing a hand on the wall for support as she went. She fumbled with the key, slowly opening the creaking door inwards, giving her a clear view of the whole room.

And what a view it was. 

Linda was on top of Henry, with his left hand groping her buttock, and his right hand gripping his leather belt, which was around Linda's neck, choking her. Snot, dribble, and tears were seeping out of every orifice of her face. Henry himself was sucking on her ample breast.

"What the fuck?!" shouted Henry at the sudden interruption. His face went from annoyance, to confusion, to pure horror as he realized who was the one who opened the door — Zizi had walked into the worst possible moment. 

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Everything was as still as a pond.

After what seemed like a few forevers, Zizi stepped back, closing the door on her face as gently as she had opened it. The last thing Henry saw of her were her eyes — blank and devoid of any discernible emotions.

Henry's heart began to beat like a drum. He instantly became limp, his blood running cold. An anxiety attack was just around the corner. 

"Get off me, you cheap skank. Give me my belt!" he said, shoving Linda off him. "I told you to fucking get a third room!"

The only thing that flashed in his mind  was how monumentally screwed he was. There was no way around it. 

Therapy?

Divorce?

Depression?

Those were things he could handle, but he was sure Zizi could not. He knew he had to intercept her before she did anything stupid, and fast.

"I did! I swear I did!" said Linda with shame and tears flowing out of her. "The reception must've screwed the key cards or-"

"Just give me my belt, goddammit!" yelled Henry.

Linda handed him the belt, covering herself with the sheets in shame.

It took Henry longer than he wanted to get dressed, with his mind wandering back to Zizi's face. No disgust. No anger. No relief. Nothing. The face of somebody that was empty in every sense of the word. 

The tightness in his chest became harder and harder to ignore. 

30 MINUTES BEFORE THE DISASTER