Message in the inbox 📥

Chapter 2

**********

She blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her mother's voice drifted from the kitchen, as loud and insistent as ever, complaining to her best friend and next-door neighbor about her younger sister.
"She never helps around the house! Always on that phone! And girls her age are already in college ..." It was the same old script, repeated like clockwork every morning.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance at the familiar monologue. The alarm on her phone went off, pulling her out of bed with a groan. Instinctively, her hand reached for the phone, pulling up the message she'd sent the night before.
Why had she done that? She bit her lip, that familiar twinge of embarrassment bubbling in her stomach. It was silly he probably wouldn't even see it, let alone care. And yet, she couldn't help herself. Something in her always felt compelled to reach out, as if those late-night messages gave her some semblance of connection in an otherwise monotonous life.
With a resigned shrug, she padded to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the small cabinet mirror. Her thick, fiery red hair always untamable in the mornings was a chaotic mess, perfectly matching her temper. She sighed, pulling it up into a loose bun before hopping in the shower.
The scent of her favorite orchid-scented shower gel quickly filled the bathroom, soothing her senses as the steam wrapped around her like a warm embrace. It was her little indulgence, a tiny luxury that she allowed herself, even if her mother would have a fit if she knew how much it cost. "Some things are worth it," she thought, making a mental note to reapply the matching hand cream later.
After her shower, she tied her hair into a high, tight ponytail, every strand in its place—practical and professional, just the way her boss liked it. She slipped into her navy-blue work uniform, the fabric crisp against her skin, which contrasted sharply with her pale, milky complexion and freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Her fair skin, often prone to burning even in mild sunlight, was one of the things that always made her feel a little self-conscious especially when standing next to Lina.
She thought about her best friend since childhood, remembering how Lina was the complete opposite. With her delicate features, dark, silky hair, and that beautiful, glowing tan that looked effortlessly radiant, Lina always seemed like she stepped out of a magazine. Her skin, kissed by the sun, had a warmth and glow that made her friend jealous at times. They joked about it, but deep down, she couldn't help but wish for even a fraction of Lina's natural radiance.
She grabbed her purse and checked her reflection one last time, remembering her younger sister's request from the night before. "Can I have some money to go out with my friends after school?" She didn't have much left, but she pulled out half of what she had and tiptoed into their room, placing the money quietly on the nightstand next to her sister's bed.
She opened the front door slowly, hoping to escape before her mother noticed. But her attempt was in vain.
"Where are you sneaking off to so early?" her mother called from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the small apartment.
"I'm not sneaking, Mom. I'm going to work." She forced a smile, already bracing herself for the inevitable comments.
"Work, work... You know, girls your age are married by now. All you do is run to that job of yours," her mother huffed. "What good is it if it doesn't lead anywhere?"
"Yes, Mom. I've gotta go." She slipped out the door before her mother could continue, breathing a sigh of relief once she made it into the crisp morning air.

*********

She was barely halfway to the bus stop when she heard someone calling her name.
"Hey! Wait up!"
She turned to see Lina jogging toward her, a bright smile on her face and two steaming cups in her hands. Lina had been her best friend since they were kids, practically sisters. Not only because their mothers were best friends and neighbors, but because they understood each other on a level no one else could.
"Bless you, Lina! You're a lifesaver!" she called out, her voice filled with exaggerated relief.
Lina laughed and handed her one of the cups. "Figured you could use this. Rough morning?"
"More like a rough life," she muttered, taking the cup eagerly. The rich aroma of coffee hit her instantly, and she paused to take a deep breath, letting the warm steam rise into her face. The heat of the coffee was a perfect contrast to the crisp, early fall breeze brushing against her cheeks. She smiled softly, breathing in the combination of the cool air and the hot drink, a momentary happiness settling into her.
There was something about fall that always made her feel this way. She loved the coldness, the anticipation of rain, the way the air felt fresher and sharper. Fall brought a certain kind of peace that she couldn't explain, and it always seemed to amazeLina.
"I'll never understand how you love this wet, cold weather," Lina said with a playful shake of her head, watching her friend close her eyes in bliss as she took another sip.
"You don't have to understand it to appreciate it," she said, smiling as she felt the coffee warm her from the inside out. "It's cozy. I love when it rains... everything feels quiet."
Lina chuckled. "You're weird. Who loves rain and cold? I can barely get out of bed on days like that."
She shrugged, still sipping her drink with a peaceful sigh. "Call me weird, then. I like it. Makes me feel more alive."
Lina chuckled, watching her friend with a fond smile. But as she stood there, taking in the peace on her friend's face, she noticed something else—the far-off, distracted look that had settled into her eyes. She recognized that look all too well.
Lina's smile faded slightly, and her gaze softened. She knew what was going on inside her friend's head. She could practically see it—the same quiet sadness that had been lingering for months now.
He's on her mind again, Lina thought, feeling a pang of sympathy. She didn't say anything, not yet.
Instead, Lina decided to steer the conversation in a lighter direction, not wanting her friend to get lost in her thoughts again. With a playful grin, she nudged her.
"So..." Lina said, her voice dripping with mischief. "Did you see your online boyfriend's story last night?"
The question snapped her out of her daze, her cheeks flushing as she quickly looked away. "Lina!" she groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He is not my boyfriend, and you know it."
"Uh-huh, sure he's not," Lina teased. "You only follow every single one of his stories, obsess over every post, and write him these long, heartfelt messages. But nope, definitely not a boyfriend."
"Stop it!" she muttered, hiding behind her coffee cup. "I don't obsess... I just admire him. From afar. Like everyone else."
Lina raised an eyebrow. "From afar, huh? Like through your phone screen at all hours of the night?"
She groaned again, exasperated. "He's never going to see my messages, Lina. It's just harmless... something I do to feel connected, okay? It's not a big deal."
Lina's teasing smile softened, and she placed a gentle hand on her friend's arm. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. I get it."
She sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "Yeah, well, I'm starting to feel a little pathetic about it. It's just... stupid, right?"
"Hey, it's not stupid. It's your thing. We all have our thing," Lina said, squeezing her arm before grinning again. "But seriously... did you watch his story or not?"
She hesitated, biting her lip before nodding. "Yeah, I saw it. He was at some club with his girlfriend. She looked... perfect."
Lina gave her a knowing look. "Let me guess—you don't like her."
She shrugged. "It's not that I don't like her. It's just that she feels so... fake, I guess. Like part of the whole image, you know?"
Lina nodded. "Hey, I get it. But don't let it get to you, okay? It's not like you actually want to be his girlfriend, right?" She wiggled her eyebrows, teasing.
"Oh, shut up, Lina!" she laughed, shaking her head.
They finished their coffee as they reached the bus stop, their banter easing the tension in the air.
Once at work, she entered the small office building and was immediately hit by the familiar sounds of ringing phones and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards. The hum of daily tasks buzzed around her, but her mind was still half-drifting back to that message.
Before she could fully settle into her desk, a booming voice pierced the quiet hum.
"Where have you been? You're late!"
She winced. Mr. Bradley. Her boss.
She hurried to her desk, mumbling, "I'm on time, Mr. Bradley. I just—"
He cut her off, towering over her as he leaned on her desk. Mr. Bradley was in his early 30s but carried himself with a quiet confidence. His decently athletic build was hard to miss, the kind of body that hinted he worked out regularly. He had short brown hair, neatly styled, and sharp blue eyes that contrasted with the sharpness of his tone. His presence had always been a bit intimidating, but there was something about those eyes—something that often left her wondering what lay behind the occasional soft glances.
His voice, though, was never soft. "Don't 'just' me. There's work to be done. I need you to file the reports from last week, and the client emails are piling up."
"Yes, Mr. Bradley," she muttered, keeping her head down. She had long since given up on trying to please him.
"Do it faster this time," he barked, before turning away. He paused at the door of his office for a moment, glancing back at her. There was something strange in his expression—like he wanted to say something else. But instead, he simply grumbled, "And don't forget to check the printer. It's acting up again."
She watched him retreat into his office, sighing quietly. Mr. Bradley was impossible. He was always barking orders, always nitpicking. And yet, there were these moments—fleeting, barely noticeable where he would look at her differently, almost... softer. Like he actually cared, but didn't know how to show it.
Lina had suggested more than once that maybe Mr. Bradley liked her, but if that was true, he had a funny way of showing it. She'd rather have the occasional kind word instead of the constant critique.
She sighed and sank into her chair, opening up her inbox to sort through the emails. The morning wore on, and as much as she tried to focus on her tasks, her thoughts kept drifting back to that message.

******
He woke up to the sharpest, most excruciating headache he'd ever experienced, as if tiny hammers were pounding relentlessly inside his skull. The light streaming in from the window felt like it was searing his retinas, each ray of sunlight a blazing dagger piercing through his eyelids. Groaning, he squinted against the brightness, trying to make sense of where he was. He blinked a few times, disoriented, as the blurred outlines of his bedroom slowly came into focus.
How the hell did I get here?
He shifted in bed, but the motion made his head throb even harder. Slowly, gingerly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his bare feet on the cool floor. Standing up was a challenge; the pounding in his head intensified, and the room tilted slightly as he got to his feet. It felt as though his brain was sloshing inside his skull, the remnants of last night's excess catching up to him with brutal force.
Step by cautious step, he padded barefoot toward the kitchen, the cold tiles underfoot grounding him as he made his way to the fridge. His hand fumbled for the door handle before pulling it open, releasing a faint cool draft. He grabbed a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap with shaky hands, pressing the cold plastic against his forehead for a moment before taking a long, desperate gulp. The water slid down his throat, refreshing, but did little to ease the dizziness swirling in his brain.
He stared blankly into the open fridge for what felt like an eternity, the cool air brushing his skin as he leaned against the door, trying to piece together the fragments of last night. His brain felt like a scrambled puzzle, pieces scattered everywhere but none of them forming a clear picture.
What the hell happened?
Flashes of the previous night flitted through his mind—laughing faces, blurred lights, the overpowering stench of alcohol. But there was something else, something that nagged at him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it hovered at the edge of his memory, just out of reach.
Suddenly, something clicked. His phone. Where was it? He needed to check his phone. He glanced around the living room, scanning the floor until he spotted it lying haphazardly near the couch, half-covered by a pillow. He bent down to pick it up, but as soon as he did, a wave of dizziness hit him like a freight train. His vision blurred, and the pounding in his head became unbearable.
He sank to the floor, his back resting against the couch as he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. The coldness of the floor felt good against his bare skin, helping to cool the heat rising in his chest. He tilted his head back and took deep, calming breaths, his mind still spinning, trying to settle the confusion that clouded his thoughts.
When he finally managed to grab his phone, his fingers fumbled over the screen, the light from the display feeling almost blinding in the dim room. He squinted, blinking away the dizziness as he unlocked it, his heart rate slowing. Instinctively, his thumb hovered over his DMs, and for some inexplicable reason, he felt an urge to check if there were any new messages. His mind wasn't entirely sure why he cared, but the urge was there, gnawing at him.
Nothing.
No new messages. He felt a slight pang of disappointment, but he didn't know why. Then, almost impulsively, his fingers started typing. He didn't even know what he was going to say, but something inside him pushed him to start a reply. His fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard as words started to form on the screen, but before he could send it, the phone screen went completely black.
Dead.
"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, tossing the phone onto the couch in frustration. He threw his head back against the couch again, this time with a heavy thud, letting out another string of curses. Just as he was starting to relax, the loud, shrill chime of the doorbell shattered the momentary silence.
The sound was unbearable, slicing through his already pounding headache. He winced, pressing his palms over his ears, cursing under his breath as the doorbell rang again—louder, more insistent this time.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," he muttered to himself as he stood up, his movements slow and pained. He stumbled toward the door, his head still throbbing as he pressed one hand against his temple, trying to block out the ringing in his skull.
The doorbell chimed again, sending another sharp jolt of pain through his head. He reached for the doorknob, half ready to tell whoever was on the other side to go away. But as he opened the door, he froze, the words dying on his lips.
She was standing there.

Wohoo that's Chapter 2 done..
What do you think ?
Tell me your thoughts and what do you think will happen next ?
Who was standing at the door?