METANOIA

Chapter 5

Then a searing yank! A grip of iron clamped onto my upper arms, throwing me off balance. A blur of motion, and with a force that felt like a rocket launch, I was shoved sideways. I stumbled, landing hard on the grass, the world spinning wildly. A gasp escaped my lips, half fear, half surprise.

Terror still coursed through my veins, making me tremble.  I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, the memory of the car's blinding lights and the fear of impact still vivid. 

A weight pressed down on me, a comforting presence that grounded me. I caught a whiff of clean linen mixed with a cologne that held a hint of something I couldn't quite place, both strangely familiar and exciting.

Gathering my courage, I cracked open an eye.  The world swam for a moment before focusing.  Right above , a pair of eyes stared back.  Olive green, deep and intense, they seemed to see right through me, into the very core of my being.  The air caught in my throat.  His gaze was both unnerving and strangely captivating. 

Taking a shaky breath, I dared a glance lower.  Full lips, curved in a slight frown of concern, drew my attention.  Had a heavenly being descended to save me? 
"Are you a fallen angel, Mr. Savior?" I slurred, the words tumbling out in a dazed whisper. My body still ached from the impact, and the alcohol clouded my judgment.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the fog. "Mahab...Mahab..." It grew louder, laced with concern.  I flinched and tried to sit up, the world tilting precariously. My vision blurred, and I stumbled, grasping for support.

A strong arm steadied me.  I looked up to see Mr. Savior standing beside me, brushing dust off his coat.  But my attention wasn't on him.  There, in the growing dawn light, stood Haris Malik, my cousin, his face etched with worry.

"Haris?" I croaked, my voice thick with confusion.  "What...what are you doing here?"

Haris mumbled something, his voice a worried mumble that my sluggish mind couldn't decipher.  I looked from Mr. Savior to him, my brow furrowed in confusion.

A violent lurch tore through me.  My stomach, already churning from the alcohol, lurched violently. 

With a strangled gasp, I leaned forward, and the contents of my stomach erupted onto Mr. Savior's freshly cleaned coat.  The world spun, darkness claiming me at the edges.  The last thing I registered before unconsciousness swallowed me whole was a startled curse and the frantic shouts of my cousin.

Next morning, I wake up in a warm big bed in Haris's room. Sunlight coming through floor-to-ceiling windows sliced across my eyelids. I groan and squeezed them shut. The familiar scent of polished furniture and leather mingled with the faint acrid tang of stale beer clinging to my clothes. 

The air hummed with a quiet focus that contrasted sharply with my pounding head.

I couldn't thank Haris enough for sneaking me into his room and keeping my whole stunt under wraps. Wild memories of the previous night flooded back in a sickening rush: the pounding music, the cheap beer, the about-to-happen kiss, the near-miss with the car, and the blurry image of a stranger pulling me to safety.

Was he real or just a figment of my overactive imagination? I pursed my lips in contemplation.
The door creaked open, and Haris entered the room, a steaming glass of water and a packet of pills balanced on a tray carried by a silent servant.

My ever-reliable cousin Haris Malik is finally back from Harvard Business School after two full years, where he had been studying Business Administration. In the last two years, he had grown more confident, dashing, and chivalrous.

Decked in a designer gray suit, he walks towards me and sat at the side of the bed.

"Good morning! How are you doing, little troublemaker?" His voice laced with amusement despite concern etched on his brow. "Looks like you had a rough night." A knowing smile plastered his face.

"Good and glad that I am not dead," I say, trying not to meet his eyes.

Shame burned my cheeks as I remembered throwing up on my savior's coat. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved last night."
"Don't sweat it," he replied with a casual shrug. "Everyone goes through a crazy phase. It's part of growing up, right? Just learn from it and move on."

"Here," he said, handing me the glass of water and pills. "Take these, you'll feel better, I bet."

"Thank you," I mumble in gratitude. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
I wanted to ask him about the stranger who was accompanying him last night, but before I could say anything, he spoke again.

"Don't worry, Bee," his voice softening. "We'll get you through this hangover, but first things first, go get a shower, you stink." He scrunched up his nose playfully and retreated out of the room.