Ones We Regret

Chapter 18

Westminster, London
Alira

Sometimes I truly wish if a person has a death wish. A few years ago, I had. I was the adventurous child whereas Scar had been the cautious one, the one who'd rather be safe than sorry. Locking teacher in a room because of a dare, bungee jumping from hundreds of feet high above ground, climbing a tree and falling from it, stealing a phone from a guy who had naked photographs of Scar from his house. You name anything reckless, I had probably done it. But these few days had been the worst.

Time has changed. People have changed and I have evolved. I do not do anything for grabbing people's attention like I did when I was a teen. That was always to gain an emotion, any emotion from mom and sometimes even dad. Worry, love, care, anything. But now I try to do things that would bring the least amount of attention to me. But unfortunately, being a criminal lawyer doesn't really help. It is the profession itself that brings you in the spotlight and had my parents been alive, I would have thrived in it, probably loved it too.

But I do love my job. I give it my hundred percent, my whole mind & body. I love how the truth is given justice, how lies and secrets and unfolded and the happiness, the utter relief on the face of my client at them being declared free of any charges. But still sometimes I feel like it isn't enough. The hollowness in my chest thaws which even my addiction and my busy profession sometime fails to fill.

I had always hated failure. Hated being second even in class or competition or in anything that mattered. My competent Lira, was what my dad always called me when I stepped down from the stage with my trophy in hand, his eyes shining with unshed tears and pride glowing his face. I had lived for that feeling itself. But now there's nothing holding me down to the ground, nothing to keep me afloat. I sometimes feel like I'm drowning. Drowning and suffocating and screaming but there's no one to save me or lend me a hand. The feeling feels like a brand around my throat, squeezing until I see black spots and my feet feels like they're floating in air.

That's what I feel like when I hear Darius' arrival. The noose tightens around my neck and a ragged gasp escape my lips. I grab the dining table to steady myself and squeeze my eyes shut, grounding myself and controlling the emotions churning inside me. Don't lose it. Not in front of them. Tess enters the airy living room, her worried gaze meeting mine, a silent question in her eyes. I lightly shake my head and force a bland smile and the concern deepens in her expression instead of retreating and I curse my hangover again.

Smooth, light steps sound and my ears pick up, noting that he's not alone. Soon enough, very soon actually, he enters the living room, looking like Adonis himself. His raven coloured hair are all around the place, a few strands falling on his forehead and curling around his temples. Golden skin glistens in the sunlight entering from the floor to ceiling windows, his hazel coloured eyes fixed on me, concentrating on every inch of my skin and his jaw tics, and something appears in his expression but it's gone too quickly before I notice and the unreadable mask takes its place. Unlike me and Alex, there is no hint of shadows under his eyes or tension bracketing his mouth. Instead, he walks in that arrogant way of his and a wave of fury washes over me.

I do not notice at all how his white shirt magnificently hugs his body or the way his navy pants and jacket makes him look like a model himself or the way his high cheekbones and square jaw sends a shiver down my spine. His long legs eats up the distance between us in a span of seconds and then his scent hits me, his cologne mixed with something spicy and dark that is very much Darius-y. I ignore the way I greedily inhale him and instead my attention snags on the other three people he's brought with him.