On The Right Side of Wrong

Prologue

He's coming.

Those words ran through me, rang in my head over and over. 

I didn't expect it. I honestly didn't. But then again, no one can ever really say they can expect what's coming.

I mean, if anyone told me when I woke up that morning, that I would go through my day just like any other, uneventful, until I found myself standing against the wall next to the doorframe, overhearing those words.

"He's coming."

I let the male voice drift over the slightly ajar door. It stops me abruptly, pulls me back against the wall quickly. M y ears can't help but pick up the words as it drifts out of the open space towards me. I gravitate towards it, like it was calling to me.

Who's coming? 

I inch closer, trying to discern the sound. Then it hits me, like a ton of bricks. A name drops, but its not just any name. It's the name. The name. The other reason I pursued a path that led me across the globe to pursue my dreams. 

I am dumbfounded. I slam back against the wall, hard. As if the strongest breeze blasted through the room, pinning me against the wall.

He's coming. He's coming.

You know how sometimes people say how they never expected something to happen, that they're not ready for it? Like how they get caught unaware, they're unprepared for it? 

Just like love. They never see it coming, never see it happening, and yet when it happens, its the most surprising thing in the world. Because they are never ready, they don't expect it.

Just like me. I never expect it. So when it comes, it leaves me in the most whirlwind of situations. It feels like someone slamming me against the wall. I drop down on my knees, the floor catching me. My chest is suddenly constricting, my fingers clutching it. My palm is pushing against it, pressing hard against my heart. My heart is gripped tightly, claws digging painfully into it. The wind gets knocked out of me. I can't breathe. I'm desperately trying to speak but the words are stuck in my throat. It dislodges my passageway. I am running out of breath and any moment now, I will pass out, the darkness taking over me.

But no matter how hard anyone, not even me, ever tries, no one can ever be ready for anything. Not even any attempt to predict the future, or make an educated guess, or even a take a stab at forecasting can ever really make a person ready, no matter how much they prepare for it. No sense in really believing that chance favors the prepared mind.

Because honestly, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much time and effort I spent planning and preparing, I was never really ready to fall for him.