Sarima blamed her father without hesitation.
He never stayed home unless it was time to "use" them for whatever deal or arrangement he was involved in. Once he was done, he disappeared again like nothing in the house mattered.
She was almost certain her mother was tired of everything too. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had another family somewhere else. And honestly, it didn't even look like her mother cared enough to fight it anymore.
By the time they returned home, exhaustion had settled over everyone, and they each retreated to their rooms without much conversation.
Sarima went straight to the bathroom.
The warm water of the bathtub eased her tension as she sank into it, letting the heat blur her thoughts for a while. The world felt distant, muffled, almost manageable.
"What a jackass," she sighed under her breath.
Then her head tilted slightly.
The bathroom door was slightly open.
She stared at it.
Still.
Quiet.
Then—
a shadow moved.
She sat up instantly, her heart jolting.
For a brief moment, she hesitated.
Do I check… or stay here?
If it was an assassin, she was already dead the moment she moved. It would be better to be found in her bed—composed, presentable—than sprawled across the bathroom floor like some cheap horror story.
She grabbed a towel and pulled it toward her, not caring that it got damp. From the cabinet, she took a pair of scissors and gripped them tightly.
Then she stepped out.
The room was dark.
Cold.
The window rattled violently as the wind pushed against it, and faint moonlight spilled across the floor. Sarima scanned everything carefully, scissors raised slightly in her hand.
Nothing looked out of place.
And that bothered her more than if something had.
Whoever had been here hadn't forced entry. No broken locks. No signs of struggle.
She exhaled sharply.
"I need to tell Dad," she muttered.
She turned toward her dressing table—
and froze.
A pristine white sheet of paper sat neatly on top.
Her pulse spiked immediately.
She rushed forward, grabbed it, crushed it in her fist, and threw it aside.
Not again.
Another message. Another warning. Another game.
She stormed back to the window, shoved it open, and shouted into the night.
"Fuck you… asshole!"
She raised both middle fingers into the darkness, breathing hard.
Then she stepped back, dragging a hand through her damp curls.
"This guy is practically turning me insane," she muttered.
She walked to the mirror, staring at her reflection—wet hair, tired eyes, towel clinging loosely.
Without hesitation, she opened her wardrobe and pulled out a satin nightgown.
If there was one thing she had learned, it was that sleeping half-naked was no longer an option when someone kept breaking into her room.
She changed quickly, applied ointment where needed, and finally lay down.
Memories of the day crept in slowly, one after another, until exhaustion pulled her under.
She woke later with a heavy yawn, her body stiff and sluggish.
"Ugh…"
Dragging herself up, she went through her morning routine—bath, clothes, perfume, shoes. Everything in place. Everything normal on the surface.
Then she left her room.
Downstairs, the house was already alive with movement. Maids moved around the kitchen efficiently as Sarima grabbed a bottle of water and a few pancakes.
As she headed toward the door, her parents' voices arguing again echoed faintly through the house.
She rolled her eyes.
"Annoying."
But when she stepped outside and moved toward her car, she stopped abruptly.
Her breath caught.
"Uhn uhnnn," she muttered under her breath.
She wasn't seeing a snake. Or a body. Or anything dramatic.
But what she was seeing made her blood heat instantly.
Carved into her black Audi R8 was a single initial.
A.
Her fists clenched immediately.
Someone was mocking her.
She ran her fingers over the engraving. It wasn't random. It was deliberate.
Personal.
Then she got into the driver's seat without hesitation.
She was already late.
While driving, something on the roadside caught her attention—a blue handkerchief.
She frowned and reached for it while still steering, her grip steady despite the distraction.
The same initial was stitched into it.
A.
She paused.
Then lifted it closer.
And smelled it.
That scent.
Spicy. Distinct. Familiar.
Her breath caught.
It was him.
At school, she walked into the lecture hall as if nothing had happened. Composed. Controlled.
Lora waved her over, and Sarima sat beside her.
"Babeee… I've been trying to reach you since yesterday," Lora whispered.
"I was busy," Sarima replied flatly. "With my parents… ahem."
Lora smirked, already looking around the room.
"Your new love interest?"Sarima smirked. "You mean your talking stage?"His name is Olrey and he asked about you apparently" Lora said giggling.
Sarima glanced briefly at the boy Lora pointed out, then scanned the room instead.
"Chen isn't here," Lora murmured.
"What makes you think I'm looking for Chen?" Sarima replied quickly.
Lora raised a brow.
"Of course you're not."
Sarima ignored her sarcasm, eyes moving across the room until they briefly locked with Olrey's. She looked away almost immediately.
"What's with all these faces?" she asked.
"They aren't new students," Lora whispered. "They were invited."
Sarima sighed, irritation building for no clear reason.
A headache started forming.
"Sarima… you're burning!" Lora suddenly said, moving her hand from neck and placing a hand on her forehead.
"I'm fine," Sarima muttered and wondered how Lora figured.
"You need the sick bay. Like right now!"
Before Sarima could argue, Lora was already packing up.
They slipped out through the back.
Lora drove out of the parking lot as Sarima leaned back in the seat, her body feeling heavier than it should.
Then a figure appeared ahead.
Chen.
"I thought you wouldn't come today," Lora said.
"I was on my way," he replied. "What's wrong?"
"She caught a fever," Lora answered quickly.
Chen moved closer and lowered in front of Sarima. Their eyes met.
Everything seemed to still.
He placed a hand on her forehead and clicked his tongue in disapproval.
Sarima gave an awkward smirk.
"Finding love in my eyes?" she teased faintly.
A soft sigh left him.
Lora drove off after gesturing silently, leaving them behind.
"You always look like you're going through withdrawal whenever you see him," Lora said, half laughing.
"You are so rude Lora.....I could swear there's a connection between him and I that I can't just pinpoint," Sarima muttered.
"Mhmm....You say that like you don't know what that connection is and awfully, I'm not liking that connection" She replied back.
Then Lora's tone shifted suddenly.
"By the way… when did you have a name starting with A?"
Sarima frowned slightly.
"I don't."
Lora glanced at her.
"Then whose initial is on your car?"