Chapter 9
1449 Words
Ayra’s POV
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The clock on my phone screen read 1:58 a.m.
It’s finally the D-day. The day my final year exam start.
I’m finally finishing high school.
My exam was at ten, but sleep? That luxury had abandoned me. My heart had been in a restless rhythm all night, my mind flipping through pages of formulas, essay points, multiple-choice tricks. The quiet hum of the night didn’t help my nerves, it amplified them.
By 2:50 a.m., I was up from my mattress.
I bathed in cold water, teeth chattering as goosebumps climbed over my arms. I slipped into my worn-out school uniform, the blue already faded to something between sky and dust, the collar frayed, and buttons hanging on like old promises.
I packed my bag: my phone, a few biscuits wrapped tightly in a paper towel, a bottle of water, my notepads filled with scribbled summaries, and a tattered biology guide I could probably recite backward at this point.
I stepped toward the door and paused. Gently, I pressed my ear to it.
Silence.
Then faint, steady snoring.
My father.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Please let this go well,” I muttered in a whisper, more like a desperate prayer. I ran my fingers over the brass key in my hand and slowly turned the lock.
Click.
I winced at the sound, then gently pulled the door open and I stepped into the hallway. After locking it, I find my way down, every creak of the floorboard beneath me felt like it screamed my name.
By the time I reached the sitting room, I could already feel my armpits dampening from nerves.
Creak.
A door opened.
My heart shot to my throat. My eyes widened.
It was my father's door.
I didn’t think. I ducked.
I crawled behind the ragged sofa Marla once called a mad woman piece. I stayed perfectly still, holding my breath.
But it wasn’t my father that emerged.
It was Marla.
Barefoot, hair wrapped in a scarf, a short dress barely covering her thighs. Her steps were as careful as mine had been. My brows furrowed. What was she doing, sneaking out at this hour?
Curiosity won over fear.
I followed her.
Quietly. Just far enough behind not to get caught.
Once outside, I ducked behind the gate pillar.
Then I saw him.
A man.
Standing beside a battered, rust-streaked car that looked like it had been through more trauma than I had.
Marla walked straight into his arms. He kissed her, long and gross and then shamelessly grabbed her chest like they were alone in a movie scene. I grimaced and turned my face, disgust clawing at my throat.
The man then opened the door, and they both slipped inside the car. I could hear murmurs, Marla was talking but the words were lost to the breeze.
I shook my head.
Of course she has her own secrets.
Then like lightning struck me, I remembered something.
My pen.
I forgot my pen.
I spun around, panic pushing through my blood. I tiptoed back to the door. I leaned in…
Silence.
Wait…
No more snoring.
My Dad’s a heavy sleeper and if there isn’t any snoring sound again then that mean one thing…
Crap.
He’s awake?
I didn’t take the chance.
I bolted, skipping the pen, dodging the front of the car by sliding through the alley behind a tree. I knew that corner well; it was my escape route whenever I needed air and no one knew.
Once I was far enough and sure no eyes were watching me, I stopped, clutching unto the walking stick as if it was what was keeping me from dying.
Well it’s keeping me from falling.
My lungs burned as I inhaled and then exhaled, calming my nerves. The cool dawn breeze kissed my face as the sky slowly hinted at sunrise. I reached for my bag and pulled out my earpiece.
I pressed play on a random playlist.
Soft indie music began to play in my ears. Comforting. Familiar.
I reached for one of my note pads, flipped to a summary page, and held it open as I walked.
Multitasking wasn’t new to me.
Walking and reading.
Hoping and surviving.
Dreaming and dreading.
I let the beat of the music guide my steps, my lips moving silently to the definitions, theories, and quotes I needed to master.
Today wasn’t just an exam.
It was a quiet rebellion.
A small win against a house that never wanted me to rise.
And I was going to ace it.
**
The morning air was sharp and biting against my cheeks as I walked, no, half-limped, toward the spot I’d seen in that photo. The one where Leon Kael had been working, unaware of the camera capturing him. That image had lived rent-free in my head all weeks, and now… now I was here, again.
My fingers gripped the handle of my walking stick tightly, each tap against the concrete echoing like a heartbeat.
I put my books inside my bag and removed the ear piece not liking the song playing.
I checked my phone.
4:03 AM.
Insane? Yes. Regretting it? Not even a little.
As I approached, my breath caught in my throat.
Cars. Fleets of them.
Glossy, dark, official-looking. The air was heavier here, charged with something powerful.
Then I saw someone. A he.
His stance was firm, but his gaze was calm. And familiar.
My eyes squinted, and I froze for a moment.
I knew him.
He was one of the men standing near Leon Kael that day, the day I’d fallen in the crowd, and Leon had noticed me. My pulse quickened.
I picked up speed, skipping over a pothole in the sidewalk, gripping my stick, and ignoring the dull ache in my leg.
When I reached him, he looked down at me with a lifted brow.
“Why is a little girl like you out this early?” he asked, voice deep, smooth, and mildly amused.
My mouth dropped open in mock offense, and I frowned. “I’m not little. I’m twenty,” I said, folding my arms. “That’s not tagged as little, as far as I know.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, twenty-year-old not-little girl. What do you want?”
I blinked. “Um... is Leon Kael really here?”
His lips twitched into a smirk, and he tilted his head. “Are you here because of him?”
“No! No,” I said too fast, then cleared my throat. “I came here to read. You know, fresh air, no distractions... and I saw you and remembered you were with him the last time. Maybe one of his guards?”
He gave me a sideways glance and leaned casually on the gate.
“I’m not Leon’s guard,” he said.
I blinked again. “You’re not?”
“No,” he said with a short laugh. “I’m his friend.”
My jaw dropped slightly, and before I could say anything, a click echoed from the distance.
Then a creak.
Doors opened from the main building, and my breath hitched.
He stepped out.
Leon Kael.
A black long coat wrapped over a dark shirt, trousers sharp, clean, and custom-made. His hair was slightly tousled, and in his hand, he held a sleek tablet, his fingers sliding effortlessly across it. His eyes didn’t lift; his focus was all-consuming.
He walked like someone who knew exactly where he was going, even if he was walking through fire.
I stared.
My eyes glued to him like he was a moving painting, a perfect storm wrapped in confidence and midnight.
“Kael,” the man beside me called out suddenly, and my stomach flipped. “You’ve got someone here who deeply admires you.”
My body froze.
No.
No, yes, no, yes, no.
I want him to see me but….
I’m too shocked right now.
“Her name is…” He looked at me, clearly waiting for me to say it.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
Leon stopped walking.
His guards paused behind him, keeping a respectful distance like bees behind their king.
He looked up, his piercing eyes now locked on mine.
There was something sharp and unreadable behind them.
And then,
“Your name, little girl?” his friend teased.
I choked.
Literally.
A cough tore out of me.
A horrible, dry, panicked cough that made my eyes water as I tried to breathe.
Leon tilted his head slightly, a brow lifting, but his lips didn’t move.
I wished I could melt into the concrete.
- Writer
