Salman's POV
Typing in the final code to the access link to the database of the insurance agency, I send the series of encrypted information to the FBI. Wiping out any traces of communication, I sit back and take a swig of my black coffee, admiring my handiwork. Another fraud, exposed. This was something I enjoyed doing, when I wasn't working. Taking a toll on people's privacies and getting a kick out of it whenever I managed to get some dirt on them. There was something special about catching a person off guard; it almost makes you feel heroic. But heroes face their enemies head on, don't they? Of course, I wasn't a creep and worked as a cyber security expert for a local company, plus it wasn't an intrusion if the public was filing in complaints for the said company or institution.
It just made me feel useful somehow, putting my skills to good use. I raked a hand through my hair, and breathed out a sigh. Deep down, I knew this wasn't enough. Whatever I did, no matter how hard I tried, it never was. The responsibility to be a good son to my parents when they came home drunk most nights, to show up at parties they threw each weekend and be deemed acceptable by their rented social circle, or take up my father's career as the head of the law firm after him. So, I gave up on trying to fit in a long time ago, and figured it would be much better to choose a line of field that actually piqued my interest.
Cracking my knuckles, I moved my neck in circles in order to release the tension. I got up from my chair, changed into my sweats and trainers, and headed outside. The evening was warm, with a cool breeze blowing your way from time to time. "Little master?" the guard at the gate addresses me, as he sees me walking into the garage. "Do you want me to open the big gate?" "It would be foolish to take your car out on such a lovely evening, don't you think Bilal chacha?" I reply, grinning and break into a jog opening the small gate. "Tell Mama and Baba not to wait for me, tonight. I'm heading over to Ali's."
It was roughly half an hour jog to his house, the road leading to the mountains just around the corner of our street. The trees on the sidewalk sway lightly to the breeze, the faint rustle of their leaves contrasting wildly with the rush of the cars often drifting past me. I maintained my pace all through the way, finding it harder once the ground began to elevate as I made the final turn for his house. The shade of his porch came into view, the lights beneath it and the brim of the palm tree in his small but immaculate garden visible as I made my ascend on the sloping ground. The sight had become something that brought a sense of familiarity and security, somewhere I could be myself without the fear of being disliked or judged. A place I could call my own.
Demir Chacha gave me hearty pat on the back ushering me in, and told me that Ali was waiting upstairs. I thanked him and made my way in, greeting Abdur Rehman chacha, as he fixed me a glass of his infamous Sago Dana drink. The liquid was cool and sweet, the flax and sago seeds, a classy edition to the flavored milk, and it sated my thirst immediately while replenishing my lost energy. I wiped my mouth and set the glass down atop the counter, before making my way upstairs. The smell of Bakhoor infiltrates my nostrils, along with the musky scent that lingers everywhere Ali goes, as I climb up the marble stair, my hand trailing up the polished wooden railing. Turning around the corner, something small bumps into my chest, a muffled feminine voice resounding in my ears.
That something turned out to be a girl, as I kept my hands on her arms in order to steady her as she retrieved herself from sudden contact. I was taken aback by the girl's beauty, her hazel doe eyes wide with surprise and something else that I'm too shocked to register. Her perfect small nose aligns with pouty lips that are slightly agape, letting a glimpse of the sweet tongue that resides within. Her glossy, caramel brown hair drapes thickly over her shoulders, a sharp jawline leading to a pale slender neck and luscious curves visible even through the loose clothing that covers her body. Aside from her beauty, there is something familiar about the girl that draws me in. A bond that I feel tugging deep inside of me, something I'm too scared to put a finger on.
"Who are you?" I ask, even though I know.