Kismet [ENGLOT]

Chapter 11

Charlotte's POV:

The past few days have unfolded in an entirely ordinary manner, yet beneath the surface, my emotions have been in disarray, a chaotic whirlwind I've never encountered before. I find myself grappling with feelings that surge unpredictably, like waves crashing against a rocky shore. Despite my best efforts to maintain a facade of calm and suppress these unwelcome sentiments, I quickly realise that such a task is futile. These emotions refuse to be ignored, demanding attention and acknowledgment, leaving me feeling both overwhelmed and helpless in their wake.

How many nights have I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, desperate for sleep? Two? Three? The exact moment it all began escapes my memory, fading like a distant echo. Yet, the feelings I held towards Engfa remain vivid. I can still recall the simmering resentment I felt towards her arrogance, a sharp contrast to the world around her. Her perpetual nonchalance seemed like a shield, protecting her from any awareness of the chaos she stirred in others. She prided herself on bending or breaking the rules simply because she could, disregarding the emotions of those affected by her actions. The incident with Snack was particularly emblematic—an exquisite cherry on top of her troublesome sundae. From day one, she had been nothing less than a nuisance.

Suddenly, she started appearing in all the spaces that I considered my sanctuaries—at the library, where the aroma of old books wrapped around me like a comforting blanket; in the community garden, my cherished escape bursting with life and colour; and, of all places, at the drama club, where creativity and expression flourished. The frequency and familiarity of her presence began to wear on me—it felt all too abrupt, as though I was trapped in a peculiar cosmic joke. I found myself sharing these spaces with her almost daily, and in this newfound proximity, something inexplicable shifted between us.

It was as if I were peeling back layers of her persona, revealing an unexpected depth beneath her brash exterior—a glimmer of goodness hidden amid the bravado. Intent on discovering whether my instincts were correct, I decided to give her a chance. Our conversations began innocently enough; simple exchanges of yes or no, her inquiries met with my straightforward answers. However, as time passed, I began to notice something electrifying in the air between us. A palpable tension lingered, manifested in those moments of stolen glances and the quickening of breaths that accompanied the subtle smiles we shared.

Then the universe seemed to conspire to bring us closer; we found ourselves paired up for the drama club. That pairing was like fate pulling strings behind the scenes, pushing us together. The animosity I once felt toward her began to transform, gradually reshaping into something unrecognisable yet compelling. Engfa started treating me with unexpected kindness, as if the barriers she had built around herself began to dissolve. Though she still retained her sharp edges, something within her had softened—she became more approachable, and suddenly, I could see a flicker of warmth where there had once been only prickly arrogance.

When Engfa approached me with a request for help with her lines, I was taken aback. She had never sought my assistance before, so her sudden plea felt unexpected and surreal. I couldn't help but point this out, but she waved off my concern, insisting it was all for the success of the play. Her assertion struck me as insincere, almost laughable. Deep down, I struggled to believe that Engfa Waraha genuinely cared about the intricacies of our performance. Nonetheless, despite my scepticism, I offered my help.

Then there was that moment at the cemetery. As we prepared to leave, an almost electric tension filled the confines of her car. It was as if the air had thickened, crackling with unspoken words and shared moments that sent butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. That night, sleep eluded me once more; my mind was consumed by the intensity of that connection.

Feeling encouraged by our interaction, I decided to take the initiative and practice lines with her the following day. I set out to buy something for dinner, envisioning a cozy evening where we could rehearse while sharing a meal at my place. I messaged her. However, as time passed without a response from her, a deep sense of disappointment washed over me. Just when I thought she might have changed, she slipped right back into the patterns I had hoped were behind us.