Meet-Cute

04. khayr

k h a y r
AHAMMED

chapter four — ❛ Your father happened ❜
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TARDINESS will bring people to their misery. Khayr knew first-hand the basic rules of punctuality. For each step of the ranking, you can knock a minute or two; however, fifteen minutes was not amendable. The watch in his hand suggested that if another minute passed by, the level of composure he currently has would rise.

Khayr quickly typed a reply to his mother's text as he waits for the elevator's doors to open. The second he lifts his eyes, he is met with the woman who has made him wait for fifteen minutes. The woman in question barely notices him as her regard remains trained on her planner, and before she knows it, their gaze encounter. The slight shock on her face is too empowering to the point where she trips on her five-inch heels.

Hair like ebony. Skin like caramel.

The fluorescent lights washes over her golden complexion as she loudly gasps for air, her palms reaching for his shoulders to steady herself with—almost as if it is now an instinct. With arms curled around him, Khayr watches Mehr glance up in astonishment. Her rosy-tinted lips part when apprehending how one of his calloused hands rest on the lower end of her hips. Immediately, she regains her composure, smoothening the fabric of her blazer and skirt.

Khayr's hands had a mind of their own, still not letting her go; he brought her petite body closer to him as the elevator's doors began to close. Mehr's fingers glide down to seize his tensed biceps, seeking balance before her eyes return to his, "You can let go of me now."

Her voice is like an echo in a dark forest. It's as if she sheds energy in a way when it no longer aligns with her essence, a barrier would come up.

As a temptation, he grazes the pads of his fingers behind her lower back, catching a few strands of her straightened hair only to take a step back. "Show some gratitude. I quite literally saved you from kissing the floor."

"Thank you, besides, it's not like I have never fallen before." Mehr rolls her eyes as she brushes her hair from her shoulders. At least she is self aware.

"Very funny. Care to explain why you're late? Again?"

With sucked-in cheeks, Mehr's kaleidoscopic honey eyes widen in sheer panic, "Your father happened, actually."

The words register slowly; Khayr is too entranced by her scowl, "What was so important that made you late for the fifth time?"

"Firstly, why are you keeping count? And secondly, he was asking about you. You know, to check in if his son is doing alright at his new big corporate job. He could've easily asked you, but who am I to question that." Her tone drips with sarcasm and slight annoyance, but it's harmless. Her eyelashes flutter softly against her cheeks before she cranes her neck up to meet his gaze. Even with heels, their height difference was comical.

"We don't get much time to talk." Khayr is aware how nonchalant he sounds, how open he may have sounded too, but it's the reality. His father wasn't the type to converse, a man of few words and the only person that could get him to speak more than two sentences was his mother or his best friend.

Mehr nodded, "I see, daddy issues?"

The smirk playing on her lips decorates her face, shunning her iced expression from before. "It's none of your business, intern." He pauses, analysing her one last time before looking at his watch again, "I'll tell him off on my behalf. Next time don't be late. Your client is waiting."