. . .
❝Once upon a time, a girl fell in love with her husband and made the stars realise that they'd gotten her soulmate wrong.❞
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It's a daunting thing, your first love. It's new, making you unsure and doubt whether it's love or just a mere...
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THE SLAM OF THE door broke the eerie silence that encompassed my brother's flat. Usually, it was never quiet, never still. There was always something chaotic going on; some sort of noise coming from a clutter in the kitchen, the murmurs of the TV, or someone that my brother was talking to loudly on speakerphone. But today, nothing.
I took a wary step inside, feeling Zayaan's warmth right behind me, the adrenaline that made me rush up all those flights of stairs beginning to wear off.
"Something's off," Zayaan cautioned, surveying the room. "Wait here for a second."
Instead of listening, I followed behind him, earning myself a reproachful look.
The phone call I'd received from Aden was nothing but a blur in my memory now, and all I could remember was him asking for help — spluttering for help — and I remembered the panic that shot up my body. I hadn't remembered asking where he was, what had happened because the call had gotten cut off and Zayaan had grabbed my wrist and we were out of our door, not leaving me a second to breathe, let alone think.
I wasn't sure what had happened, but I knew it in my bones that my brother was in danger — that he wouldn't call except if he really needed something. And in this case, something told me that it was his life.
The thought pushed me forward, my racing heart the fuel that momentarily pushed away the fear and I broke away past Zayaan and pushed open the last door in the house.
"Faithe, don't—"
I'd already stepped inside, ready to meet the eyes of a stranger — a torturer — if I had to, but all I saw was a body, laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
All I could do was gasp, a guttural scream leaving my mouth as I rushed forward, kneeling beside my brother. His eyes were shut, a single tear at the corner of one, and there was a scowl of pain etched on his face from whatever he'd felt before his body had given out under him.
"Aden." I shook him frantically, hoping that he'd wake up. "Aden! Wake up. Wake up. Open your eyes. Aden, please."
A warm hand landed on my shoulder and I glanced up, seeing Zayaan with his phone to his ear while he gave me a comforting glance.
"He's not waking up, Zayaan," I croaked, my eyes blurring when I turned back to my brother. He just lay there, like a corpse, silent and cold.
No. Not a corpse.
He couldn't die. He couldn't.
But there was a deep cut on his wrist and it seemed as though he'd been shot too. One, two, three. Four gunshot wounds from at least what I could see on his chest.
"He'll be fine, sweetheart. He has a faint pulse and the ambulance will be here soon. Aden's going to be fine," he said, kneeling next to me with an arm around my shoulder.
