WHISPERS OF ENCHANTÉ

17: wild reality

Kaduna State, Nigeria.

It was him. Her Whisperwind.

Her heart drummed in her chest as her eyes widened in disbelief. How could he be here, in front of her, like this?

The same man whose memory had been dancing around in her head ever since their embarrassing encounter. The very one who had made her heart race and cheeks flush with the mere thought of his presence.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Her mind replayed their first meeting, the awkward, mortifying exchange outside the restroom, her desperate attempt to impress him, the way he had smiled, even laughed.

He had seemed so unreachable then, like a star in the sky, and yet here he was, in front of her again. It looked like it has been long since he laughed but seeing her in that state undid him.

It was much later when she realized that and she was very pleased to say the least. That encounter has replayed in her head more than her own name.

Her heart fluttered with a mix of nervousness and excitement. She looked around the area, blinked at the sun above, then brought her eyes back to him. Yup, he was still there.

Yasmin couldn't help but take in every detail. He was too good looking for her not to notice it every single time. It is like breathing. A necessity.

There are the sharp lines of his jaw filled with beard, the way his dark eyes studied her, a mix of curiosity and something else in their depths. His presence was magnetic, and she felt herself being drawn to him, the same way she had that night.

She wanted to speak, to say something clever, anything at all, but her voice was caught in her throat. This is what happens when she gets overwhelmed or too excited and right now it is both!

Whisperwind looked as if he was about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but instead, he leaned back against his seat, a ghost, amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Yasmin's mind raced. Should she thank him again for finding her shoes? Should she apologize once more for the smell that had assaulted his senses?

Or... should she just say what she was truly thinking? That seeing him again felt like fate, that she hadn't stopped thinking about him since their encounter? That she had named their kids?

Before she could gather the courage to speak, the car door opened, and a breeze filled the air, carrying his scent –fresh and comforting and expensive and purely masculine.

She inhaled deeply, wishing she could bottle it all up.

He tilted his head, his smile growing a little wider as if he could sense her turmoil. But she knew he was just remembering how she had embarrassed herself. The man doesn't look like he smiles much.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked, his voice like a soft rumble, breaking the silence that had seemed to stretch on forever.

Yasmin felt her face go hot but she nodded quickly. "Y-yes," she stammered, then, desperate to keep the conversation going, she added, "I was just... surprised to see you here."

"I could say the same," he replied, his gaze never leaving her face. "I didn't expect to run into you here and alone. It's not safe."

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I—uh, it's... a small world, I guess. I –uh don't live far away. Came to buy some food stuff."

She gestured to the different colored leathers in her hands and his eyes lowered. A frown pulled between his brows before he let it go and looked back at her face. A breath left her in a whoosh. God. He is so handsome.