Meant To Be

Chapter One | Sophia

"What's meant to be will always find its way."

Sophia

"Wake up, Sophia!" I hear my Mom shout, and cover my head with the soft pillow.

"Wake up!" Dad's voice pipes in. An angry voice, that is. Dad is fierce when angry.

"We're already late. You want to miss the flight or what?"

"Sophia!" That roar scares the hell out of me. Dad would really slap me if I don't sit up immediately.

I wake up in the most terrible way, to see both of my parents so furious that they could kill me any moment. It's 4:00 am. And I slept at midnight.

"What are you waiting for? Go get ready to leave, duffer!" He shouts. Okay, it hurts when he calls me duffer, but I know he only says that when he's angry and can't find other words to use at me.

I instantly get to my feet and run to the bathroom. I just brush my teeth for half a minute and rush out. My younger sister is changing, making me realise that I have to change too.

"Mom, what should I wear?"

"The bags are already packed. And you slept in your jeans. Keep wearing this," she replies, searching for her left out things in the luxury hotel room.

"But Mom-"

"We got no time," she cuts me off.

"Sophia, take a look for the things you left out." Dad says in a hurried voice.

I begin looking around for things but end up finding nothing. I don't know how many times he has asked everyone to check the room and himself checked it.

"Mom, what do I do with my hair?" I ask. Dad is already out of the room with the bags and my sister.

"Just pull it back and rush out!" She leaves the room.

And Dad enters. "Sophia!"

I pull my hair in a bun and fasten it with a rubber band.

"Yes! Yes coming, Papa!" I'm about to cry. That face of Dad never fails to scare me. Plus the added effect of the voice.

I never go out looking so bad. Never. Never even walk around in the neighborhood looking this way. But here I am going to an airport looking so ugly.

We reach the airport and all the check in and security stuff is done in time. After the check in, I gain the courage to talk to Dad.

"Papa, we are not late. In fact, the flight is delayed," I tell him quietly, in hopes that his mood would be okay. If it is, he'll reply. If he's still angry, he will pretend that he didn't listen.

"Hmm. But what if it wasn't delayed?" He says.

"Then we'd still be early. Because we have you to drag us out," I say and give rise to a round of laughter. We are going down the escalator, to the waiting room. I am in awe, looking at people who have dressed so well at 5:30 in the morning.

How do these people get time? Don't they sleep?

A girl in all black, clopping heels and highlighted brunette hair passes by me. Wow, she looks so good. I turn to look at her. Then I see a cute boy of Mongoloid features, wearing a blue t-shirt, his hair sticking up. People could look so good. Everyone looks so good, except me. Ugh.

But I'm smiling as I enter the waiting room, which is over-crowded. It's the holiday season and everybody is on vacation. New year 2015 just began and it's the first week of January.

Dad finds us three vacant chairs in the second row, where Mom, Zoya and I sit. He goes to sit somewhere else.

I am beginning to feel that this trip has become my life. I don't want to go back to high school. I just want to keep travelling, going to beautiful places, meeting different people. This part is the best part of my life. Even if I get a few scoldings in the morning.

But sitting here is boring. I have got nothing to do. Mom is busy on her phone. My sister is playing a game on an old phone that she has for now. Looking at the phone in my hand, I plug in it my earphones and it begins playing my favourite music.

I still have nothing to do than looking at people. Watching different people is really amusing. My eyes keep wandering from person to person. Until they stop at a group of boys.

All of the four are dressed in casuals and look perfect. Why am I the only freaking one to look so bad?

Okay not only their dressing sense, everything about this group looks perfect. They are the kind of typical young boys, doing the high five, fist pump, back slapping things.

The only muscular and a bit older looking guy leaves the group and goes to sit. The three left are equally young and boyish. They talk for a while, laugh and smile, and then two of them leave to sit or do whatever the boy stuff is like.

The one left starts pacing back and forth near the counter. I find it weird the way he keeps on walking from left to right and right to left. He also has earphones in his ears, and a bag hanging from his shoulders.

He's wearing blue jeans and an olive jacket on an orange Tee. I can tell by everything there is, that he loves music. Because he is so deeply lost in the music he is listening that he is smiling and doesn't even notice that I am staring at him.

Wait, am I staring at him? Why am I staring at him?

No one's noticing me, everyone's busy on their own. There's no harm in staring this guy. And looking at beautiful people is something that I like.

His friends were kind of more handsome than he is. But I was noticing this one guy from the beginning. I don't know why he looks different to me. And why I don't want to take my eyes off of him. It's weird because I never stare at boys. I never have the guts to look at them straight. I never look at boys in their eyes, even while talking to them. I don't know why I can't do that. But here I am staring at him like there's nothing stopping me. Like I fear nothing.

I am enjoying watching him so much, even though he keeps doing the same thing- walking around and listening music.

Why is this happening? Why am I staring at someone? Why am I thinking so much about someone that I don't know at all? This is crazy. I don't want to look at him anymore. But this isn't going my way. I shouldn't look at him. But something in me wants to stare at him forever. And that part is dominant. I wish that the time just stops. I wish I could go and talk to him. I wish there was no one else here.

My favourite One Direction playlist is all I am hearing, burning loud in my ears. The song One Thing is playing.

I wish he was on the same flight as mine. I wish I knew his name.

" I am dying just to know your name.."

The line from the song startles me. What? Wow, what a coincidence. The song is exactly about what I am thinking. Clearly a coincidence.

I keep staring at him when my Mom shakes my shoulders. I remove my earphones and look at her questioningly.

"Do you want to go to the washroom? Um, anyway, come with me." She says and grabs my hand and Zoya's and pulls us in the direction of the washroom.

I don't want to lose his sight. I turn back to look at him once again, and then get pulled by Mother.

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Author's Note

Readers! I always wanted to write this story, but didn't know how to. I have tried, so have a little faith in me.
Yours, Shifa.