The next morning was warm and bright.
Aliyah was happy to wear comfortable shorts instead of her usual cooperate wear, she took a few days off from work—something she rarely did.
Late the night before, she had sent a quick email to her supervisor. She didn't expect a warm reply.
Her phone rang almost immediately after she sent it.
"I'm guessing the complaints from your co-workers about you finally losing your mind are true!"
Mr. Blake's voice crackled through the speaker.
It was only after she had mentioned it was due to her father's condition that his tone softened, leaving a gruff kind of concern — Mr. Blake had never really been nice to her, so she didn't really care.
She decided to get some groceries to make her father's favorite chicken and vegetable soup to take with her when she visits the hospital later in the day.
Her drive to the mall was lively; she played her favorite BLACKPINK song, "How You Like That," blasting it through the stereo as she sang along at the top of her lungs.
The windows rolled halfway down, letting the wind tangle through her hair like freedom in motion — she didn't hold it in a ponytail this time.
On the outside, she looked carefree, but inside, she was trying to drown out the heavy thoughts she wasn't ready to face.
"Aliyah… your father's condition has taken a turn. The cancer isn't responding to treatment like we had hoped. It's spreading faster than we anticipated."
He continued..
"We're not giving up — but you need to prepare yourself. We'll adjust his therapy plan, but there are no guarantees. His body is tired… and sometimes, even our best efforts aren't enough."
She remembered Doctor Devon's voice as vivid as if he were standing beside her.
He also mentioned that she had to inform relatives, including her mom.
Those words hit harder than they should have.
Aliyah hadn't spoken to her mother in over a year.
Their last conversation had ended in shouting — a bitter clash that left scars neither of them had bothered to mend.
She hated how her mother had turned her back on her father's illness, hadn't shown up once since his diagnosis.
Divorced or not, she expected a shred of human decency from her mother.
But Serena had her own story. She always did.
She claimed that James had also abandoned her when she was at her lowest, struggling in rehab.
He'd promised to let her be part of Aliyah's life if she got clean. And she had.
But sobriety hadn't earned her a second chance. Her only access to Aliyah had been through occasional phone calls and two strained visits a year.
It wasn't enough. Not for a mother. Not for anyone.
Thud!!
The sudden hit pushed Aliyah forward in her seat.
For a second, she thought the loud music had blurred her senses. But no—this wasn't the music, this was real. She'd been hit.
Her fingers shot toward the stereo, hastily turning down the volume until it was silent.
She blinked, disoriented, then quickly checked her rearview mirror.
Even without stepping out, she could feel it; she knew her rear bumper would be scratched—bashed in, maybe..
She stepped out slowly, brushing loosed strands of her hair from her face as she walked to the back of her car — it was nothing too serious, but enough to sting.
A black vehicle, sleek, polished, and obviously expensive, sat just inches behind her.
It was the kind of car that made people stop and stare.
Aliyah waved a hand at the driver angrily, signaling him to step out.
The driver's side door swung open. He stepped out of the car with the kind of confidence that didn't need to announce itself — it was felt.
Tall and well built, dressed in a fitted dark suit that looked like it had been sewn directly onto his body, every movement he made was smooth, intentional… dangerous.
The sunlight caught on the metal of his watch, and light flashed against his jaw.
A few strands of dark hair fell on his forehead, not in the messy-on-purpose way, but like he had run one distracted hand through it during his drive.
And his eyes—deep, intense, and seductive, like he knew something she didn't. Something she might want to know.
There was a rawness about him like he wasn't just looking at her, but through her and into something she hadn't even acknowledged in herself.
The silence between us was wrapped in expensive cologne, and time felt like it forgot how to tick.
He didn't smirk. He didn't smile. He just was.
And God help her, that was enough.
Aliyah steadied herself, swallowing against the dryness in her throat, aware that her composure almost slipped away.
"You're not exactly the type to make small talk, are you?" Her voice came out steadier than she expected.
"Small talk is for people who need to fill the silence with something meaningless." Alexander's tone was smooth and measured, he didn't smile.
I know that voice from somewhere…
Aliyah blinked, a flicker of recognition passing through her mind like a shadow.
He stepped a little closer, though still at a respectable distance. "I assumed you'd move when the light turned green, like everyone else," he said.
"Some of us have places to be, work to get done. If you're looking for a party, the road's the wrong place. Maybe try a concert next time."
Aliyah's brow lifted slightly, her pride itching beneath her skin.
There was arrogance in his words, yes —but not the petty kind. His was the practiced arrogance of someone used to power, used to not being questioned.
She cleared her throat, refusing to be cowed.
"Well, excuse me for having a human moment," she said, her voice flat and dry, brushing away the loose strands of hair the breeze had blown across her face. It wasn't styled, but somehow impossible to ignore.
Alexander tilted his head a little, and for the first time, a smile appeared on his face. "You have beautiful hair," he said smoothly.
But the smile faded just as quickly as it came.
Aliyah let out a short, dry laugh and shook her head. "Has flirting always worked for you?"
Her eyes narrowed a little, hiding the fact that it had almost worked on her.