8th August, 2018

"You sure, mate? Still got energy for another round?" Shumail asked, bending over with his hands on his knees, panting hard.

"Talk about yourself," Zaid replied, sprawled dramatically on the gym floor, breath coming in rapid pants. "I could still win another round."

"Yeah? In your dreams maybe," Shumail scoffed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

The two were at their regular boxing practice, something they'd taken up for fitness and as an unofficial way to settle arguments. After a few intense rounds, their energy was on the verge of extinction, but neither wanted to admit defeat.

Shumail finally stood up straight, yanking at the strap of his glove with his teeth. "Well, you might still have some imaginary stamina left, but I'm officially calling it. Break time. Let's hit the showers."

"Afraid, are we?" Zaid teased, raising an eyebrow, still lying flat like a starfish.

"I'm not the one doing a dramatic Titanic reenactment on the floor," Shumail shot back with a grin, offering his hand. Zaid took it, groaning as he got to his feet. They both headed to their duffel bags, unstrapping gloves and chugging water like it was the last resource on Earth.

"Need to get to work early today," Shumail said, zipping his bag closed. "Some things need my attention."

"Not sticking around for the other two?" Zaid frowned.

"Not today. I've got an early meeting. I'll catch up with them later."

"Cool. You joining us at the gym this evening?"

Shumail shrugged. "Depends on the mood and my sanity level. Anyway, hasta la vista."

With a mock salute—right hand to his left temple—he swung his bag over his shoulder and jogged out of the gym, whistling a tune that probably didn't exist.

Unlocking his car with a click, he slid in and drove out, the roads ahead clear as the early morning sunlight poured in.

"Morning, Robin!" Shumail called out as he entered his house.

"Good morning, Sir. Breakfast is ready. Shall I set the table?"

"Yeah, but make it quick. I'm racing against time here."

Robin nodded and vanished into the kitchen. Shumail rushed to his room, took a quick shower, dressed in his tailored tux, styled his hair with precision, and clicked on his watch and cufflinks. He walked into his study, grabbing the files he needed, then made his way to the dining table.

Just as he sat down, his phone buzzed.

"Good morning, Sir," his secretary's voice rang out. "Just a reminder that your meeting with the Monteneigros starts in five minutes. I've mailed you the video conference link and details."

"Ah, crap—I mean, thank you." He ended the call, cursing under his breath. His breakfast was forgotten as he flipped open his MacBook and joined the meeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Montenegro," Shumail said, opening the email on his iPad simultaneously.

"Good morning, Mr. Ibrahim. It's a pleasure to finally have this business conference with you."

"Oh, believe me, Mr. Montenegro—the pleasure is all mine. Shall we get started?"

As they discussed the strategic blueprints of the project, Shumail's stomach gave a mournful gurgle. He ignored it heroically and kept up his calm business persona, going through spreadsheets, financial forecasts, and developmental goals.

After nearly thirty minutes of intense corporate negotiation, he finally closed his laptop with a sigh. His toast had gone cold and slightly curled at the edges. He slapped on some peanut butter in protest, took a bite, and packed up to leave.

"Royal breakfast, indeed," he muttered.

Sliding into the backseat of his car, he greeted his driver. 

"Where to, Sir?"

"To the moon, Taylor. Let's make history."

"Right! Office it is, Sir," Taylor replied with a grin.

"Of course. Let's aim low for once."

Just as they were cruising comfortably down the highway, the car jolted violently, skidding slightly before coming to an abrupt stop.

"Woah! Taylor, what the hell was that?"

"Punctured tire, Sir."

Shumail pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do we have a spare?"

"No, Sir."

Of course not.

"Call the mansion. Get another car sent over, now. I need to be at the office quick."

While Taylor made the call, Shumail buried himself in his iPad, trying to remain productive despite the minor apocalypse. Minutes later, the backup car arrived.

"I'll take it from here," Shumail said, waving Taylor off. "You handle the wounded soldier."

Sliding behind the wheel, he plugged in his phone, popped in his Bluetooth, and continued driving.

A message pinged on his phone.

Multitasking like a pro -or so he thought- he picked it up to read while watching the road. Just then, the phone slipped from his hand and landed near his feet.

"Seriously?" he groaned, glancing down for a second too long.

When he looked up—someone was on the road.

He slammed the brakes hard. The tires screeched, the car jerked, and a scream pierced the air.

And then silence.

"Oh God..." Shumail whispered, panic flooding his chest. Unbuckling in record time, he jumped out and ran to the front of the car.

There on the ground lay a young woman, unconscious.

"Please be okay, please be okay," he muttered, kneeling beside her. He hesitated a moment before gently turning her over.

His breath caught.

She was beautiful.

Dressed in a plain white salwar kameez, a peach hijab wrapped around her head, and steel bangles on her wrists that jingled softly as he moved her. Even without a trace of makeup, her face had a quiet radiance. Her eyes fluttered slightly before shutting completely.

That's when he saw it—the gash on her forehead, bleeding.

"No, no, no—hey! Wake up!" he called, tapping her cheek. "Please don't do this."

Without wasting a second, he scooped her up bridal-style and rushed her to the car, placing her carefully in the back seat. Slamming the door shut, he gunned the engine and tore down the road.

He reached the hospital in record time.

"Help! Emergency!" he shouted as he stormed in, carrying her. The staff rushed with a stretcher and took her in. He watched helplessly as the doors closed behind her.

Shumail groaned and checked his watch.

First the flat tire. Now this.

He filled out paperwork, paid for the treatment, and paced like a madman in the waiting area. But duty called.

"I'll come back after my meeting. Just... make sure she's okay," he told the nurse firmly before heading to his car again.

Back at his office, he entered the conference room a little breathless.

"Apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Let's begin."

The meeting dragged on. It felt like he was being punished for every sin he'd committed since kindergarten.

Finally, the clients left, shaking his hand.

"I hope it's a pleasure working with you, Mr. Ibrahim," Mr. Gazi said.

"Likewise," Shumail replied with a businessman's smile.

In the elevator, he asked his secretary, "Any more appointments today?"

"No, Sir."

"Finally," he muttered under his breath. Once inside his office, he changed into casuals and ruffled his hair. He tossed the tie like it owed him money.

"Ms. Rose, get all the shipyard project files sorted. I want them on my desk first thing tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir. But where are you go—"

"Last I checked, knowing where I go wasn't part of your job description, Ms. Rose."

"Right. Sorry, Sir."

He took the elevator down, mentally kicking himself.

I hope she's okay... Please let her be awake now...

He stopped by a flower shop and grabbed a small bouquet and a "Sorry for being a reckless idiot" card—or at least the most appropriate one he could find.

At the hospital, he made his way to the reception desk, flowers in hand.

"I'm here to check on the girl who was admitted this morning. Accident case."

"Sorry, Sir. She's already been discharged."

"...Oh."

That stung more than expected. Shumail stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with the flowers.

So that was it.

He had hit her with his car, left her at the hospital, and now she was gone—probably thinking he was the worst kind of human being.

Back in his car, he tossed the flowers and card on the seat next to him and stared out the windshield.

"I'm the villain in her story," he muttered. "And I didn't even get to say sorry."

He sighed and started the engine.

I wish I could apologise to her somehow...

Heyy there my sugar candies *waves a hi*

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*Taking off* Hasta la Vistaaa