From Aliya to Hafiz

Thirty-one.

Aliya.

I have never met anyone as insufferable as Hafiz Hakimi.

What was wrong with that man?

I'll tell you what; everything!

The only good thing about him was probably his looks.

And his voice.

And his hair.

But that was not the point!

All these were superficial things, he was as ugly and as rotten as they came. I wouldn't even be surprised if he had something to do with everything that happened to me in that dumb hospital. How could someone be so annoying and hateful and rude?

Every time I recalled what happened yesterday night in that stupid ballroom, I felt my blood boiling. When I left the room, I went to the pool to get some fresh air and as I sat there, the water tickling my feet and the night sky keeping me company, I felt something hot and prickly in my eyes.

It was probably the tough week I had, and the public shaming that night but I felt an urge to scream and cry. Disgusted with my reaction, I plunged head-first into the water and the first thing that came as a shock to me was how cold the water was.

The second thing was my inability to swim.

Yes, I forgot I couldn't swim and plunged headfirst into the icy pool and almost drowned to death. The only reason I was here now, alive and well, was because of the guy who saved me.

He looked Asian, very in line with my aesthetics. And while he looked handsome and cool, clad in all black as he asked whether I was doing okay, I was the opposite, painting a pathetic picture as I gasped and wheezed for air, all the while clutching his shirt.

Long story short, he had to support me upstairs by holding firmly onto my arm.

Groaning, I set aside the book I was reading and stood up. I had to do something to let out all this pent-up frustration.

I could exercise.

Snorting at that crazy thought, I left the library and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Or I could eat.

It was half past ten, Friday morning, so I knew that idiot was at work. As for my work at the hospital, after causing such a scene, I should reasonably be fired. Instead, I got a letter of apology from the hospital management and monetary compensation for emotional distress and physical abuse with the promise of the perpetrators for the former facing punishments.

I was surprised at first but thought it made sense considering who was backing me. Uncle probably found out and did something about it. I haven't spoken to him in a while now, the last contact I had with him was when I heard him over the video call I had with Auntie yesterday.

Seeing as the hospital was taking a sucking-up stance, I decided I wasn't heading into work today. Or next week.

Anyway, it's not like I needed the money.

I've always wanted to say that, and it felt amazing even if it was in my head.

I rummaged around the kitchen, and with the ingredients on hand, I settled on making some shawarma and chicken curry. I could have the curry with rice later, saving me the trouble of running into Hafiz, that possessed man, later.

As I got to work, slicing and prepping the ingredients, I felt the annoyance fade. Cooking always had a way of improving my mood, it was a sure destresser for me.

Just kidding.

Cooking was everything but destressing. The only thing to look forward to was the final product which I got to eat.