Zemira

I liked that our conversation carried a hint of familiarity even though Sam was my newest acquaintance. In the coffee shop where we sat, Sam wasn't a podcaster who interviewed me and I wasn't a celebrity. We were two ordinary people who gabbed about our lives, about obnoxious friends and loving family members.

"...it's not funny." I poked my finger into his arm. "I didn't even know till after the date that the guy came out of his closet an hour back."

Sam heaved, gasping for air from his laughter riot.

"Actually it's funny becau-" His phone rang. "Excuse me, Zem."

Escaping from the chair he sat in, Sam moved over to a secluded side of the café.

As he answered the call, his smile diminished. His face crumpled like a piece of paper when subjected to an external force. Without saying anything, he kept nodding. Several minutes later, he slid the device into his back pocket and walked back, dropping his weight on the chair.

"Sam, is everything okay?"

"That call was from Dave Brenton." He held his forehead over the heels of his palm. "He threatened me. He said not to release your interview or else..."

I had anticipated the repercussions. Even during the interview, part of me was scared. I was challenging the founder of a giant conglomerate that possessed the power to crush me. Dad calculated this risk too.

After all, who would want their son to be painted as a sexual predator in front of the world?

"Let go." I straightened from my seating and tapped on Sam's shoulder.

He looked up from his hand cage. Reddened eyes and pale face met mine. My heart went out to him. Sam's only fault was trying to help me.

"Where are we going?"

"Home."

As soon as I parked the car, Kiera rushed from inside our home. I had called for all possible help, already aware of how Dave Brenton played his game.

"Haley's inside," she said, panting and leaning near my seating as I slid out. "And I've called uncle too. He's arriving soon."

Sam, who sat next to me, didn't pay heed to Kiera's words. Busy chomping on his fingernails, he had his head in the clouds. Softly tapping the car's roof, I regained his attention.

He removed his seatbelt and slid out, resigning his worries with a sigh.

Kiera moved ahead, looking over her shoulder. She was always the protector. The mama bear.

Before I could take another step, Dad's car cruised in, breaks screeching. He had never driven so rashly. In that instance, it felt like the whole world was rushing to end the day. Dad stormed out of the car, shoving the door closed before firing his steps towards us.

"We need to talk." He glanced at Kiera and Sam, delivering a curt nod. Then he turned to my side. "It's urgent, kiddo."

I nodded by when he herded us inside.

Kiera took Sam to Dad's study, assuming we would rejoin them.

To my surprise, it wasn't where Dad and I stormed to. Without uttering a single word, he walked me into a small guest room at the end of the long hallway.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. Dad's silence soured my mouth. "Please say something."

My spine unknotted, pushing me to sit. Since Leo left, I went on to block all channels t that broadcasted the war news. Ignorance was bliss.

Dad shoved his hand into his coat, fishing out a few envelopes. Pale-brown envelopes and familiar cursive handwriting with my name on it greeted my vision.

"Somehow they were delivered to our office," Dad said. "I've received them only today."

Blinking constantly, I tried to focus on Leo's letters in my hand. Those tattered corners, peeled adhesive called out to me. They asked me to open them.

The mountain of assumption I heaped up - of Leo not bothering about me - was destroyed. Four letters spoke in his defense. 

Four letters conveyed, he didn't forget.

Dad moved out.

I slid my nail into a glued corner, tearing open the first letter. My heartbeats paced up. My head swam in a state of dizziness. When I saw those pointed cursive writing, my mouth soured.

Then, like a miracle, everything else disappeared.

Only he remained. And his words whispered in my ears.

Dear Zemira - the formal introduction of the first letter buckled my knees. I slipped from the chair, landing on the marble floor. The weight of my body crashed at my kneecaps. Yet, I felt no pain.

Leo embraced me with words, with the remembrance of our first night.

He recollected the hotel night completely; of his night terror and my return to the room.

When I tore open his second letter, my mind floated in peace. My eyes dried from draining pent-up sorrows.

The vulnerability seeping from his words balmed my aching heart. I curled my legs to my chest, protecting what remained of my heart and soul. I saved him - he said.

By the time I got to the third letter, my hands trembled. My breath paced up.

What could he have written now?

Like a hungry animal, I had devoured the contents of his last two letters and sprung onto the third. Slicing the slit in the envelope gave me a paper cut. There was no sting from the wound.

Every word healed me.

My eyes roamed over the contents of the third letter.

My chest collapsed inwards. My vision hazed. The air-conditioning did nothing to soothe the mist breaking over my skin. Black dots appeared around my vision. Before I could go blind from reading his heartfelt confession, three words drew my attention.

I love you.

Between his karmic retributive apology and drowning regret of not confessing before, those words danced. Those words rejoiced and so did my heart. So did my soul.

I may have tried moving on and attempted many things to get Leo off my mind. Those three words reeled me back.

"Leo loves me." My mind and my surroundings needed a retelling. "He fucking loves me."

My legs sprang up.

I clutched the unopened fourth letter, leaning on a nearby table.

My mind commanded me to open the last one. My heart wanted to bask in the warmth of his confession.

I read it again. Under the pale light from the lamp. Then, in the darkness of the room. Those words remained on the parchment.

Leo loves me.

Streams of joy trickled down my face, dampening my heart from its hardened, numb phase.

With a tiny blood trail, I sliced ​​open the fourth letter. The last one carried the date stamp from a week ago. With a smile that stemmed from the deepest trenches of my awakened soul, I read his words.

Like all things that reached their optimum, my happiness too was short-lived.

The cloud I floated upon suddenly turned grey, thundering with uncertainty. I read the part about Leo's upcoming mission, about the apprehension he stated about his survival.

The knot in my stomach tugged harder, gripping at the center, twisting his words like a knife into my spine. My chest tightened. Flames of fear burnt my stomach, rising faster, bitter than ever.

I ran inside the washroom, kneeling and heaving.

Residual coffee laughed back at me. I heaved till my stomach emptied. Sitting on the cold tile and nursing my warm forehead between my twitching palms, I tried breathing.

Leo's fear replayed in my mind - a loop of a bad song one couldn't change.

Logic - my enemy, began its narration. A week had passed since his mission. Leo always wrote about his success. This time...

Maybe that letter was misplaced too. Hope lingered. Maybe it was addressed to some wrong place too.

My instincts nudged me to ask for help. My thoughts wandered about Leo's well-being. Torn from all sides, I sat and watched the halo from the lights above.

Time passed. Long, till my back hurt and my neck strained from looking up.

I tried standing. Walking.

I slipped more than a child learning to walk. Somehow, I managed to walk to the sink. Cold water pricked my warm face. The girl who looked back at me from the mirror - puffy, red eyes and fluttering nostrils - didn't resemble me.

She needed answers. So did I.

My feet fired up as I darted towards Dad's study.

He sat in his usual chair while my friends sat on the opposite end of his desk. Soon as he saw me enter, Dad tossed his book aside.

The moment I placed the letters on the table, Kiera and Haley dove for one each. Dad didn't fetch any. He must have read them all from my expressions.

"I need to know how Leo is... Is he..." Fear gripped the tip of my tongue. "... alive?"

A familiar ache rose from my chest, similar to what I felt when Leo said he didn't love me.

Was Leo gone?

Holding onto the corner of the table, I leaned for support. Dad held my other hand, running it around his back, crossing it over his shoulder.

I didn't require a piece of furniture to keep me erect. I had my support system right beside me.

"I saw the date on the last letter," Dad said in a surprisingly confident tone. "So I made a few calls." His silence was lethal. "Good news is, Leo survived. But...he is badly injured."

My knees trembled under my weight. It wasn't the overbearing burden like before but a light, nimble feeling.

My Leo survived.

Injured yet survived.

That was all I needed to know.

Funny how the idea of death led me to realize my priority.

Upon hearing Sam's phone ring, the whirlwind of my emotions ceased.

His crinkled eyebrows and pursed lips rendered the caller's confirmation.

"What do I say, Zemira?" Sam was scared. So was I.

Over these past few months, I had learned a lot of lessons. Lessons on confidence; in understanding the value of hard work. Today I learned another aspect of life - self-preservation.

Constant threats from Dave Brenton were his way of preserving himself and his reputation. His threats were the final warning shots. He would destroy me if I moved ahead as planned.

As Dad used to say, in that life-defining moment, I was led to choose.

And I did.

I choose to fight the man who held all the power.

"Release the interview now," I said, pointing at the bag hanging over Sam's shoulder. Without wasting a moment, he scurried outside. Haley followed him.

After scrutinizing the content of the letters, Kiera walked to our side. She fished out her phone and began typing. Soft keypad taps emerged.

"What are you doing, Kiera?" I asked. "Who are you texting?"

For long, she didn't answer, peering at the pale screen.

Ting.

When she looked up, a diminished smile bloomed.

"I've texted my father for help. I'm calling in my bargaining chip." Dad and I peered at each other. "Don't worry, Zem. My dad has a lot of connections. We'll come to know of Leo's location very soon." Biting into her lips, she continued. "About where he's hospitalized and what his current condition is."

"What do you mean by your bargaining chip?" I asked. Since Mr. Dales never did anything for free, I knew there was a price to pay. "Please don't tell me you'll have to do something in return."

"Nothing's more important than this, Zem," she said, tossing her phone on the table and moving closer. "Right now, Leo's well-being is the only important thing. Everything else comes secondary."

My arms strung around her while the other clutched onto Dad. I held my pillars of strength.

My support system endured everything upon itself to keep me strong. Afloat. Whoever said reinforced concrete foundations were the strongest hadn't met people with determination. People like my father and Kiara.

More than once and in their own ways, both Kiera and Dad had saved me.

Ting.

Kiera's phone chimed.

She picked up her phone, sliding her finger across the screen. Hope danced at the corners of her crooked smile.

Kiera looked up at me. "I have Leo's location."

~

I have always tried to deliver happy endings in my stories.

This one lingers with hope. And hope makes the world go around.

The next chapter is the epilogue...