"You, a girl tainted by the shadow of your own character, belong in the depths of a brothel, where your filthy essence can find its rightful place. In the presence of Rowen, the embodiment of virtue, you are but a speck of insignificance, unworthy to stand beside Rowen. Never dare cross my path again; your foolish countenance has disguised me to the core! In Rowen's heart, there is no place for a doxy girl."
As the moonlight gently caressed her tear-stained face, Harlin's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest, increasing every microsecond. Harlin sat up at a brisk pace. A thin sheen of sweat covered her trembling body as the haunting echoes of the past lingered in the air, refusing to release their grip on her fragile soul. The remnants of a terrible dream clawed at her mind, threatening to pull her back into the depths of despair she had fought so hard to escape. With trembling hands, she clutched her bedsheets, desperately trying to ground herself in the present, but the vivid memories refused to fade. It was in that chilling moment, in the lonely darkness of her room, that Harlin realized she could no longer outrun the ghosts of her past—they had come to claim her once more
Over the past four years, these blurry lines have repeatedly struck Harlin's ear. She squeezed her ears with her hands in comfort. No, Rowen is nowhere. Why is she thinking about him?
The stifling silence of the dimly lit room was shattered by a sudden, jarring symphony of metallic urgency. The shrill crescendo of the phone's ring pierced the heavy air, echoing with an ominous foreboding. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as Harlin, consumed by a relentless torment, slowly turned her gaze towards the source of the disturbance. The phone, perched atop a weathered table, appeared to pulsate with a sinister energy, its presence demanding attention. Its persistent cries for acknowledgment cut through Harlin's soul, a relentless reminder of the tumultuous journey that lay ahead.
Harlin hesitated, her heart pounding like a captive beast against its cage. Each passing second seemed to stretch into an eternity, and the room was engulfed in an ethereal stillness that intensified the mounting tension.
As the ring continued to reverberate through the air, a myriad of emotions collided within the conflicted mind. Fear mingled with hope, and uncertainty entwined with determination.
With a trembling hand, she reached out and lifted the phone from its resting place. The ring abruptly ceased, and an expectant silence replaced it. Time seemed to stand suspended, as if the entire universe awaited the momentous decision that hung in the balance.
The ring had been answered, and the journey towards an unknown future had commenced.
"Chairwoman, all arrangements have been made. Now we're just waiting for you to come. And I have sent something to your phone; please check it."
Harlin connected her Bluetooth ear pods with her phone and put them in her ear. Her eyes widened when she saw the video. So, she was right; it's not a coincidence at all; someone set her up.
"That's good, Rehan. You did a great job. Now, wait for me and my next command."
"Ok, mam."
The room was shrouded in a hushed elegance, an exquisite blend of opulence and nostalgia. Moonlight danced through the tall, arched windows, casting warm golden hues upon the room's plush velvet drapes, cascading down in gentle ripples onto the polished parquet floor. The air carried a faint scent of aged leather and antique books, evoking a sense of intellectual curiosity and refined taste.
In the center of the room stood a grand mahogany desk, its surface adorned with meticulously arranged quills, ink pots, and weathered parchment. A worn leather chair sat behind it, inviting weary writers and dreamers to take a seat and immerse themselves in the magic of creation.
Nearby, a crackling fireplace offered warmth and comfort on chilly evenings. Its dancing flames cast flickering shadows on the walls, illuminating the room's intricate tapestries depicting scenes of mythical creatures and ancient civilizations. A cozy reading nook nestled in a corner, adorned with plump velvet cushions.
Harlin got up from her bed and stepped towards the balcony of her room. She sat on the chair that remained there, groping at the soft speed of the air, and muttered,
"My beloved enemy, be ready to burn yourself in the fire that you have ignited by melting the ice in me. Ok, let's burn together in the fire. Welcome to your destruction; I'm coming."
As the clock struck eight in the morning,
Harlin approached the airport. The Hum of engines and the distant echoes of announcements fill the air, creating an atmosphere brimming with anticipation and adventure. Stepping into the Grand Atrium, a Symphony of sounds enveloped her. The steady rhythm of footsteps echoed against the marble floors. After the security checkpoints in the Gate areas, Harlin eagerly awaits the announcement of her flight. Her gaze shifted between the electronic departure boards.
Suddenly, Harlin hears the harmonious sound of a whistle. No, not harmonious, but rather kind of when someone wants to draw your connection. Harlin looked around and saw a middle-aged man playing the whistle and making a nasty gesture towards her boobs—well, his whole body—while licking his lips.
Harlin smiled at the man, put her back in the seat, and went up to him. She raised eyebrows while observing him. The man flinched at Harlin's sudden changes of behavior. Harlin threw a sharp gaze at him and asked,
"What happened, uncle? Should I slop down to help you show my boobs more clearly?" a mischievous smirk plastered on her face. The man's heartbeat rose. Soon everyone in the airport surrounded them tightly, asked Harlin,
"What happened?" Before Harlin could say anything, the man got up. A smile appeared on Harlin's lips at the man's departure.
"This old-uncle didn't know that if someone hit a brick on Harlin, he would have to pay for it. After all, she isn't the same as she was."
The plane had just taken off. It will land in a few hours. And then?? Then they will face that dark chapter once again.
Harlin tilted her head against the seat. She closed her eyes. She prayed a thousand times in her mind that God would help her save the truth she wanted to hide. She has no desire to relieve her unbearable pain by freshening old wounds. She doesn't want to, and she doesn't have the patience.
Within five minutes, a chic, feminine sound came from inside the plane. He urged everyone to wear seat belts. Harlin sat up straight, wiping the water running down the cornice of her eyes with four fingers of one hand. She focused on getting his seat belt fastened.
As always, some old things shook her mind. What sweet memories she has about this seat belt barrier!
Uh. Not sweet, bitter memories. Bitter. Those who have been chasing her for the rest of her life.
After an thirteen-hour-long-journey, Harlin returned to her country, Bangladesh. She put her gaze out the windows, which offered glimpses of mighty airplanes taxiing along the runways. 'The airport' is just a basic word in anyone's dictionary, but for her, it's a place where the elation of departures and the bittersweet farewells of arrivals merge. One day, an amorous-romantic-ballad ended exactly on the day it started here.
"Several paused temporal nodes. Times do have magic, drawing us closer in height and distance. But it didn't last in the end."
As always, she had left behind the curse called Rudra in her life and moved on with the desire for some peace and well-being in her life.
"But has it been done at all?? Did she get a drop of that serenity?
Harlin didn't think about such a strange memory for long; after checking, she came out and stood on one side of the road. Her car hasn't arrived yet.
He walked to the familiar place next to the airport. Located quite a bit inland, next to the airport, this place is called "Glassy". In the red sunset, a valley is seen lined with palm trees and meadows lined with hedges—a land where all things always seem the same!"
Everything is as it used to be, from small shops to busy streets. Only five years of her life have passed since then. Harlin took a deep breath and walked forward.
In the afternoon, people gathered at the place. She knew there were a lot of people here at this time. But today, it's probably a little more than it used to be. Suddenly, her phone started to buzz, and she took the call.
"Ok, I'm coming."
Harlin lifted the mask hanging from her chin, pressed it against her face, and walked back-forward.
At one point, she suddenly bumped into someone coming from behind her. Harlin was stunned in the first round. He said with great annoyance,
"Hey, are you walking with your eyes in your hands?"
The man's black glass fell from him. With that, Harlin looked at the stranger, carelessly lowered her eyes, and in less than a second, she looked at him again in awe. In a triee, her heart thumped Violently.
Rowen is standing in front of her. Even if the face is covered with a mask, can such a familiar face be forgotten so easily? Five years or five centuries later, this face is mixed with the spirit.
With piercing blue eyes that shimmered like the depths of a calm ocean, he possessed an enigmatic allure. "The blue eyes"-Rowen's first part of the body that compelled Harlin to fall for him.His perfectly styled brown hair framed a strong jawline and added a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise refined appearance. Clad in a turtleneck sweater with overcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders
"Rowen!" The name came out of his mouth in a whisper.
"Rowen, is it really you?"