TITLE CHANGED: PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS FORCED
In the realm of love, there are the tales of love at first sight and the slow burn of affection after getting to know someone. However, our hero found himself caught in the midst of a unique journey - he fel...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Forced friendship is like getting stuck in an elevator with someone who talks too much—you're both trapped, but at least one of you thinks it's a great time."
(You will find out who is having a great time once you read the chapter)
Apologies for the delay—I've been tangled up in life's dark comedy, where the punchline is always a bit too bleak. But hey, what's a little existential crisis between updates? Back to the grind!
Free 🍉 and Enjoy.
▧▧▧
While Shafaq was engrossed in her job applications, her phone chimed. Without checking, she glanced at the time and knew instantly who it was.
She ran a hand through her hair, resolved to ignore him. She hadn't outright rejected his offer of friendship, but she hadn't accepted it either.
But then, another alert sounded—a relentless follow-up. He was insistent, messaging her twice daily: once in the morning and again in the evening.
He had a tendency to initiate their conversations, sending message after message until she relented and replied. It was always him taking the first step, and she would begrudgingly respond. Their conversations rarely ventured beyond surface-level exchanges. He'd narrate the events of his day, enquire about hers, and she'd offer concise replies.
Daily, she toyed with the idea of blocking him, but found herself lacking the resolve. Changing her number seemed an equally futile attempt, for if he managed to track down her current one, he'd surely uncover the new one.
[Hi]
[How are you?]
[What are you doing?]
He often sent his messages in parts. What could easily have been one message was always split into three. Shafaq looked at the notifications on her lock screen when another message popped up, catching her eye.
[You know the guy who attacked me? I found him.]
Shafaq hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she typed.
{Did you mention me to the police? If you haven't yet, please don't involve me. It's a request.}
She was reluctant to send the message, but she knew she needed to stay out of trouble. Being a witness could drag her into dangerous territory, especially without knowing the affiliations of the individual in question. She definitely didn't want any unwanted enemies.
[Don't worry, I didn't involve the police.]
The reply was immediate. Confused, she asked.
{Then what did you do to him?}
She was nervous about the response she might receive.
[What do you think I should have done with him?] This question made Shafaq hold her breath.
