Soul [Complete]

Three

The lights in my room are on. Strange, since my roommate Tori is still at the party. With a strange feeling, my sixth sense on high alert, I unlock the door and see a man sitting on Tori's bed. He has black hair and honey-colored eyes. He is inexplicably beautiful.

He looks startled to see me, staring as if he's seen a ghost.

"I'm sorry, but did Tori lock you in here?" I ask, confused.

Regaining his composure, he looks straight into my eyes. "Who's Tori?" he asks.

"Damn. You don't know Tori? She's a tomboyish girl. Basically, the one who locked you in here," I explain.

"No one locked me in here, Hayaat," he says calmly.

Good God! What? How the hell does he know my name?

"Who are you?" I yell at him. He doesn't even budge.

"I am Emir Sirsilmaz," he replies.

"What do you want?" I demand.

"You," he says simply.

I chuckle at his words, unable to process what is going on. "Do I know you?" I ask.

"You soon will, Angel," he says with a smile.

The guy must be some Alpha, Sigma, Gamma club. Men nowadays! Guide them, God.

I have been standing at the door all this time. I rummage through my purse to find my phone.

"Hey, hey! What are you doing?" he asks, sounding alarmed.

"Calling 911," I say, just as I am about to press the green button.

"Oh, Angel. Don't! Fine, I'm leaving," he says quickly.

"Stop calling me Angel," I snap.

"Very soon, you will fall in love with this name," he says with confidence.

"Just get lost," I shout and slam the door in his face.

* * * *

It was morning the sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the sandy beach as the volleyball match began. I wasn't thrilled about participating, but it was a tradition among my friends, and I couldn't back out. I glanced around, looking for my partner, but there was no sign of them. Just as I was about to step out of the game, I heard a familiar voice.

"Need a partner?"

I turned, and there he was—Emir, the man from yesterday, standing there with a grin on his face. My heart skipped a beat. I tried to mask my surprise with indifference, but I could feel the tension building between us.

"I'm fine on my own," I said, trying to sound aloof.

He chuckled, stepping closer. "Come on, Hayaat. Let's win this thing together."

Reluctantly, I agreed. As the game progressed, I found myself struggling to stay focused. Emir was too close, too kind, and despite my efforts to keep a distance, his presence was overwhelming. He didn't seem to notice my cold attitude, though. Every time I stumbled or missed a shot, he was there with an encouraging word or a gentle smile.

Then it happened—I went for a spike, landed awkwardly, and felt a sharp pain shoot up my leg. I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my ankle. Before I could even process what had happened, Emir was by my side.

"Hayaat, are you okay?" His voice was full of concern as he knelt down beside me.

"It's nothing," I muttered, trying to wave him off, but the pain was too much to ignore.

Emir ignored my protests, gently lifting my leg to inspect the injury. His touch was careful, almost tender, as he examined the twisted ankle.

"You've sprained it," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "Let me help."

Despite my earlier resistance, I found myself nodding, too exhausted to argue. He carefully wrapped my ankle with a bandage he'd pulled from his bag, his movements steady and sure. As he worked, I couldn't help but notice the warmth in his gaze, the way he looked at me as if I was the most important person in the world.

When he finished, he helped me to my feet, his arm securely around my waist for support. "You should rest," he said, his voice gentle. "I'll take you home."

I wanted to protest, to maintain the distance I'd tried so hard to keep, but something in his tone, in the way he cared for me, made it impossible. As we walked back to the car, his arm still around me, I felt my defenses begin to crumble. For the first time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to fight it.