Kalila Miracle Hart

"Marco! I said put her down gently"

"Oh, my back hurt." Marco grumbled, tossing the girl onto the bed with less care than I would have liked. I watched as he rubbed his lower back, clearly feeling the strain from carrying her all the way here.

Finally, we had made it back to the house without any more trouble, but the fear of those men returning still lingered in the back of my mind. I looked at the girl sprawled on my bed, her dress dirty, and one shoe missing. She didn't seem to have anything with her—no phone, no bag, nothing. I had hoped she might at least have her phone so I could call someone, anyone, who might be able to help her.

"Go put ice on your face before it gets worse," I told Marco, my voice still carrying a trace of the earlier panic. He nodded, leaving the room without another word.

With a sigh, I turned my attention back to the girl. She was in no state to fend for herself, so I decided to clean her up. I found some clean clothes and carefully wiped the dirt off her hands and face. As I worked, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind.

What am I even doing?

This feels like too much, like I've somehow become her maid in the span of an hour. I couldn't help but feel a little resentful—after all, she had been nothing but trouble the last time we met. If she wakes up and gives me any attitude, I might just feed her right back to those men.

But as much as I wanted to stay detached, I couldn't shake the questions swirling around in my head. Why were those men after her? Weren't rich kids supposed to have bodyguards or some kind of security? And what exactly had happened to make her look so terrified and desperate?

Despite my frustration, I knew knowing those answer won't do any good to me. So, I sat beside her, waiting and wondering what I'd gotten myself into. After I'm done with her I went downstairs to pour myself a cup of coffee, I didn't even know what happen to the coffee Marco bought earlier, and I still needed to send a text to Maggie, letting her know I couldn't come to work this afternoon since something had come up.

I hope this won't give us trouble, letting her into my home.

Aunt Kenzie had mentioned she wouldn't be coming home for three nights since she was going to a friend's wedding. I'd teased her about how many weddings she'd attended lately, suggesting she should be feeling at least a little bit jealous by now.

Of course, I got an earful for that.

I'm definitely not going to tease her about weddings anymore. After getting my coffee, I noticed Marco had been in his room, his likely sleeping. I decided to change into something more comfortable—an oversized sweater and soft pajama pants—before heading back downstairs to prepare for dinner.

Cooking has always been something I enjoy, probably because I grew up cooking for me and Dad. Back then, we hardly had enough food in the fridge, so I often ended up eating just bread and milk. Dad would either come home drunk and pass out or return angry, making me feel even smaller in that tiny kitchen.

But since living here, cooking has become more enjoyable. Aunt Kenzie taught me a lot, turning what used to be a chore into something comforting. Tonight, I decided to make a hearty vegetable soup—something simple yet warm. I chopped up some carrots, celery, and potatoes, adding them to a pot with garlic and onions. The smell of sautéing vegetables filled the kitchen. I added some broth and let it simmer, stirring occasionally as the flavors melded together.

After a few minutes, I went back upstairs to check on the girl. I still didn't know her name. I thought it might have been Jally or something, but I couldn't honestly remember. That would be the first question I'd ask her.

I walked up the stairs quietly, each step creaking underfoot. When I reached the door, I saw that she was already awake, sitting on the bed, staring into nothingness. I knocked lightly on the door to get her attention.

"So, are you okay now?" I asked, moving closer to the bed. She nodded slowly.

"Okay, so now tell me your name and what the fuck just happened?" I asked bluntly.

"Why would I tell you?" she muttered, lowering her head. This was exactly what I feared—attitude right off the bat, which she really shouldn't be giving to the person who saved her life. I could feel my temper rising. I swear I'll—

"What's your name again?" she asked, surprising me.

"Kalila—Kalila Miracle Hart," I replied, feeling oddly pleased she had asked.

"I'm Evara Galini," she paused, "Sinclair." The hesitation in her voice was evident, why? Did she think I might take advantage of this situation?

Just then right on cue, Marco popped his sleepy head in. "I'm hungry," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I just cooked dinner, go downstairs," I told him. He nodded and went down, likely to complain about the vegetable soup I'd made. He's such a picky eater, but I'll shove it into his mouth if I have to—he needs proper nutrition, for goodness' sake.

"Do you wanna go down and eat dinner before you leave?" I asked Evara. She was still hesitant, but I knew she'd eventually open up.

"I'm ordering pizza!" Marco shouted from downstairs. He must have already seen the dinner I'd prepared.

"I'll go down first, you can join us if you like it." I said walking out my bedroom and headed downstairs, I saw marco in the kitchen making stupid face on the vegetable soup I just made looks like his picking a fight with it.

"Stop being so ungrateful, you brat," I said as I set out the table and food.

"I already ordered pizza and wings," he announced, looking proud of himself.

"Will you please try my cooking, just a little bit?" I asked, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the vegetables, walking toward him.

"No, stop!" he frantically protested. "I know you cook well, but you also know I'm allergic to those."

"You liar," I said, chasing him around the kitchen with the spoon without spilling any soup. I finally grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him toward me.

"Kalila, no, spare me—"

"Just one bi—"

I was in the middle of trying to get Marco to eat vegetables when someone cleared their throat. We both looked up and saw it was Evara. I immediately felt relieved that she'd decided to join us, and maybe I could ease her tension a bit. I let go of Marco and smiled at her.

"I hope you don't mind vegetable soup for dinner," I said politely, but she just shook her head.

We all sat down in the dining room, and soon Marco's pizza and wings arrived. Evara remained silent, staring at the soup while Marco devoured his food.

"I really wanted to call someone, but you didn't have anything with you, so I didn't know where to ask for help," I said slowly. She picked up her spoon and started eating the warm soup. After one bite, she paused.

"Why? Is it bad?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

She shook her head. "No, it's so good."

I was stunned by her compliment, but then she started to cry. Marco and I exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. She must still be frightened by what had happened. I didn't know how to comfort someone, so we just let her be as she cried and finished her soup.

"Thank you for the meal, Kalila," she said softly. "And thank you for saving me." She looked up at me, her eyes still watering.

"It's alright, anyone would have done it if they see you in that state." I said desperately trying my best not to sound awkward. "And oh, this is marco, my—'' I glance at him im really not sure what to call him cousin? Brother? The guy I live with "my aunt's son."

"Well, legally, I'm still not her son yet," Marco chimed in, his tone almost proud, like he was sharing some inside joke only he found funny. I just shook my head, exasperated by his typical nonchalance.

"And by the way, I saved you both and carried you on my back, so it should be 'thank you, Marco,'" he added, throwing in a smug grin as if his heroics were something we were supposed to applaud.

Evara looked puzzled, her brows knitting together in confusion. She didn't remember, did she?

"Did you not remember passing out?" I asked, my concern growing as I noticed the way her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

"No," she murmured, almost to herself. "I just remember hiding behind your back." Her voice was so quiet, it felt like the words themselves were fragile, breaking apart as soon as they left her lips. The fear was still there, just beneath the surface, ready to consume her again.

"Oh, I changed you," I said quickly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "Don't worry, you're safe." But I could see the unease in her eyes, the way she was clutching her fists like she was still holding onto the remnants of whatever nightmare she'd just survived.

"Are you comfortable telling us what happened? So we can help you. But if not, it's totally fine," I added gently, not wanting to push her too far.

"I really don't know what happened," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I was going out for lunch when those men tried to drag me into a car."

The image of her being dragged away by those men flashed in my mind, making my stomach churn. "Then what about your things?" I asked, hoping maybe she had something that could help us figure out what to do next.

"I don't know. They probably have it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her helplessness was palpable, a stark contrast to the hardened exterior she'd tried to present earlier.

"I think you should call your parents to let them know you're okay," I suggested, trying to find some semblance of control in this mess.

"I don't have a phone."

"You can use mine," I offered.

"I don't know their number," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. It was like she was lost, completely unmoored from the world she should've known.

Damn, this girl can't live alone for a single day without depending on someone, I thought, Why do I feel pity and irritation at the same time. Her parents were probably freaking out, launching a full-scale search for her, while she was here, completely disoriented and alone.

"Would you like Marco to get you home?" I suggested, trying to come up with a solution, though the look of disgust that crossed her face when she glanced at Marco made it clear she wasn't thrilled with the idea. Marco, for his part, shot me a look that screamed, Are you serious? Well, sorry for trying to play matchmaker here. A girl can dream, right?

"Fine," I sighed, relenting. "Go change, and let's get you home."

"Can I take a shower?" she asked, her voice softening, and I nodded. Maybe the water could wash away some of the fear still clinging to her.

After she emerged from the bathroom, looking a little more composed but still carrying the weight of whatever had happened, I quickly hopped into the shower myself. The water was warm, soothing the tension that had settled in my shoulders. I dressed in a cozy sweater, thick enough to fend off the chill of the evening, and a pair of dark jeans that hugged me just right. I grabbed my favorite leather jacket, the one that made me feel a little more put together. And we made are way to Evara's home.

The Sinclair estate was everything you'd expect from old money—grand and imposing, with towering wrought-iron gates that seemed more like a fortress than a home. The house itself was a masterpiece, all sharp lines and sprawling wings, with tall windows that gleamed in the dim light. The lawns stretched out like a green sea, interrupted only by the occasional marble statue or carefully pruned hedge.

I suddenly felt underdressed—my cozy sweater and leather jacket seemed laughably out of place against the backdrop of sheer luxury. The Uber rolled to a stop, and as we stepped out, my eyes darted to the men in black suits stationed everywhere—like a well-oiled machine of security, ready to defend their fortress. Sleek black cars lined the driveway, their polished surfaces gleaming menacingly under the soft glow of the lights.

A shiver ran down my spine, a mix of fear and the crisp night air amplifying the tension. The kind of chill that made you clutch your coat tighter, hoping for some semblance of warmth—or protection. Then It hit me— the daughter of Sinclair was missing, and here we were, arriving with her in tow. A sliver of panic sliced through me. She wouldn't tell them we kidnapped her, would she?

Evara stepped in front of us, her posture was calm as guards swarmed toward her, their movements sharp and efficient, like dogs ready to protect their master.

"They're with me," Evara said, her voice carrying the authority of someone used to being obeyed without question. Without a moment's hesitation, the guards backed off, but their eyes stayed on us, watching every step we took. Marco and I exchanged a silent conversation through our eyes, the message clear.

We need to get out of here, now.

"Uh, Evara?" I called out quietly, hoping to make a quick exit before things got any more complicated. "We should be going."

"What? No," she snapped, her usual attitude back in full force. She turned and continued to walk toward her home, leaving us no choice but to follow.

We followed her inside, and the size of the place made me gasp in amusement. The foyer was massive, glowing with this soft, golden light that made everything look even fancier. The marble floors were so shiny I could probably see my reflection in them. A huge staircase curved up to the second floor, with a banister that looked like someone had spent way too much time carving it. The walls were covered with paintings that screamed 'I have money to feed a small country' each one fancier than the last.

Marco and I followed Evara into the lion's den, feeling more out of place with each step. When we stepped into the living room, a stunning blonde woman rushed towards Evara. She was tall, with a graceful figure that moved with elegance, her hair cascading in soft waves down her back. Her eyes, a piercing blue, were filled with a mix of worry and relief. Behind her was a tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with dark, neatly combed hair and sharp features that commanded respect. His eyes, deep and intense, held the same blue as Evara's, unmistakably her father.

"Evara!" the woman cried, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. Her delicate hands trembled slightly as she held Evara close, as if afraid to let her go. The man joined in, wrapping his strong arms around both of them, and for a moment, it looked like Evara was being swallowed by their embrace.

"Mom, Dad, I can't breathe," Evara mumbled, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder, but there was no hiding the faint smile on her lips.

Her mother pulled back just enough to look at Evara, her hands cupping her daughter's face. "Are you alright? Oh, my sugarplum, we were so worried! What happened? Are you hurt?" Her voice was thick with emotion, tears brimming in her eyes.

Evara shook her head slightly, trying to reassure her. "I'm fine, Mom. Really. Just a little shaken up."

Her father's deep voice broke in, laced with concern. "When we heard you were missing, we didn't know what to think. We had everyone out looking for you. You have no idea how terrified we were." His usual stern expression softened, his hand resting protectively on Evara's shoulder.

Evara's eyes flickered with guilt as she glanced between them. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry you. It all happened so fast, I—"

Her mother cut her off, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Shh, it doesn't matter now. You're home, and that's all that matters. We're just glad you're safe."

Her father nodded in agreement, though his gaze remained sharp, scanning her for any sign of injury. "Who were those men, Evara? Did they hurt you? We need to know everything."

Evara hesitated for a moment, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "I don't really know who they were. They tried to drag me into a car, but I managed to get away... then Kalila and Marco helped me." She glanced back at us, a hint of gratitude in her eyes.

Her parents followed her gaze, their expressions softening as they took us in for the first time. "Thank you," her mother said, her voice full of sincerity. "Thank you for bringing our daughter home."

And here I thought she'd been through a lot at home, considering her shitty attitude, but no—she's actually been showered in love. Well, I was wrong. I smiled at her parents, trying to mask my surprise.

"Oh no, it's alright, ma'am," I said, pausing to smirk at Evara. "After all, we're friends." I couldn't resist hinting a bit of sarcasm.

Evara's mom suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, catching me off guard. It took me a few moments to respond, my arms awkwardly wrapping around her. When she finally let go, she turned to Marco, pulling him into a similarly tight embrace. He looked just as stunned as I had been, his eyes wide as he patted her back awkwardly.

"Please, both of you, sit down, make yourselves comfortable," Evara's mom insisted, guiding us toward the plush sofas in the center of the room. The fabric was soft beneath us, sinking slightly as we sat.

Her dad nodded, his stern expression giving way to a warm smile. "You've done so much for our daughter. The least we can do is offer you something to eat. Are you hungry? Thirsty? We can have anything you like brought out."

Marco and I exchanged glances, both of us feeling a bit out of place in the lavish surroundings. "Oh, no, really, we're fine," I began, trying to be polite. "We actually just had dinner before we came here."

"Nonsense," her mom said with a dismissive wave, already turning to give instructions to one of the staff hovering nearby. "You must try our chef's cooking. I insist."

"Really, ma'am," Marco chimed in, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of refusal. "We're good. We don't need anything."

But Evara's mom wasn't having it. "How about dessert, then? Or something to drink? You've been so kind, we just want to show our appreciation."

"It's alright, really," I said with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "We're just glad Evara's home safe."

Her dad, however, seemed to have another idea. "At least let us compensate you for your trouble. I'm sure this whole ordeal was quite an inconvenience."

Marco and I both shook our heads immediately. "No, sir, that's really not necessary," Marco said, his voice firm. "We're just happy we could help. We don't want anything in return."

Evara's mom looked at us, her eyes softening. "You two are really something special. It's not often you meet people who'd go out of their way to help like this, especially without expecting anything in return."

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Well, we couldn't just leave her there, could we?"

Evara's dad finally relented, though he still looked like he wanted to do more. "Alright, but if you ever need anything—anything at all—you know where to find us."

"Then if you insist could you give us a ride back home?" I asked, because there's no way I'll be paying an Uber drive again.