A Knife on His Lap|| Bodyguard AU

Coward

~Nariya Patel~

Racing through the halls, I tried to avoid the turning heads of a few students. It was almost the end of my classes, and I was eager to dash out before I had the chance to run into that stranger again. However, my pursuit was abruptly cut short by an announcement: "Nariya Patel, please come to the dean's office." An annoyed groan escaped my lips. I wished I could have ignored it, but the last of our savings had gone toward the payment for the last year of this school. I couldn't let that bit of money, the fruit of my mother's hard work for my future, go to waste.

Gathering my belongings, I hastily made my way toward the dean's office. Today's shift at the convenience store was early, and afterward, I had to hunt for a decent motel—something not too expensive but not too unsafe either. I had so much on my plate, and a chit-chat with the dean was the last thing I had hoped for today. Mrs. Henderson, the secretary to the dean's office, gave me an encouraging smile before nodding for me to enter the inner chamber, a corridor connecting the dean's office to the secretary's. Gulping, I crossed the seemingly elongated corridor. Five years ago, when I enrolled in this institute, my mother had insisted on paying the entire sum for my future, angering many shareholders in her company. However, she always reassured me that it was fine.

Raising my shaky hands, I approached the door, ready to knock. Mid-air, I hesitated when familiar voices invaded my ears. Slowly, I placed my ear against the door, discovering that the topic of conversation revolved around me. Knowing this was wrong, but feeling the need to be prepared for what was to come, I listened carefully in the hushed silence of the corridor.

"Yes, I see you have the authority letter, and I understand what she and her father have gone through. Yet, it seems a bit imposing, don't you think, Mr. Ivanov?" The other voice sounded distant, making it impossible for me to catch the reply.

"I know, I know. The police had contacted me about her father's whereabouts and even her behavior. I honestly thought she didn't know, and that's what I informed them," Dean Thornton replied, frustration laced in his voice.

He continued, "Well, I know legally you are her guardian, but the girl hasn't approached you on her own. You know what? I have called Miss Patel; you can have a one-on-one chat with her."

Horror sparked in my eyes. The word 'guardian' flashed in my head. I had assumed my father had asked for help to take care of his underage daughter, not granted legal guardianship to thisacquaintance. A swirl of emotions rose within me. Without a word, I dashed through the door, running away. Perhaps I had inherited that from my father.

Without pausing, I swiftly made my way out the door, the urgency of my emotions propelling me forward until I found solace in the seat of a bus bound for the city. The door's echo lingered behind me, fading into the distance as the bus roared to life, carrying me away from the tumultuous conversation unfolding within the dean's office. The rhythmic hum of the engine provided a backdrop to my racing thoughts, offering a temporary escape from the complexities of the situation left behind. As I settled into the bus seat, the cityscape unfolded before me, a mosaic of buildings and streets, each holding the promise of anonymity and the potential for a new chapter.

 Eleanor Finchley College for Women stands as a beacon of academic excellence and empowerment in the heart of the city. Nestled within pristine surroundings, the sprawling campus exudes an air of sophistication and intellectual vibrancy. Architectural marvels blend seamlessly with lush greenery, creating an inspiring environment for the ambitious minds that grace its halls. With a rich history dating back decades, the college is renowned for fostering not just academic prowess but also a strong sense of community and leadership among its students. State-of-the-art facilities, cutting-edge research centers, and a distinguished faculty contribute to an atmosphere that encourages intellectual curiosity and personal growth. The college is committed to shaping young women into trailblazers, instilling in them the confidence to navigate the complexities of the modern world while upholding values of integrity and compassion.

Arriving at the doors of the convenience store where I worked, I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that no one had followed me. Offering a nod to the manager, I proceeded to change into my uniform in the ladies' locker room, the only place I managed to secure for my remaining house belongings—at least until my shift ended. The manager had reluctantly agreed to this arrangement, emphasizing that after my shift, I was on my own. He made it clear he wanted no involvement with a homeless underage girl. I understood that I was a problem, and I had no intention of burdening a man who hired underage kids as cheap labor. The day proved exhausting, compounded by a lack of sleep over the past week. I experienced head rushes multiple times during my shift, particularly when physical work was involved. Aware that the manager was already pushing his limits to assist, slacking off was not an option. Like most in a job like this, I considered myself replaceable. Lost in these thoughts, a ping on my phone jolted me back to reality.

Hopeful for a message from my father, I eagerly opened my notifications tab, only to be disappointed by a fake advertisement message. Sighing, I rubbed my temples as I waited for the next shift worker to arrive. The sun had already begun to set by the time they appeared. Quickly changing, I grabbed my heavy suitcase from the back door. Relying on an expensive cab was not an option for me, and the evening rush hour would make it impossible to navigate a crowded train, especially with a suitcase like mine.

Knowing that for tonight I needed to indulge a little, I opted for a nearby motel. The autumn season hastened the sunset, and people hurried past me, seeking refuge in their homes. Home—how fondly it resonated three years ago when, on chilly nights like these, I would snuggle with my mother. Shaking off past memories and acknowledging the irreplaceable loss of people, I huffed as I lugged my suitcase up the stairs. Earlier that day, I had dedicated my free time to researching motels near my workplace, carefully considering their location, price, and safety. Although they turned out to be a bit pricier than I had hoped, such costs were expected in this nicer neighborhood. I only needed to stay the night, and with no classes tomorrow, I planned to search for a place that offered a more stable job along with lodging for the duration. 

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