▄▄ ˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 'ˎ˗ ──
IN WHICH , ── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
after Spider-man almost breaks
into her window, Amala has to
balance her two new lives: the
life where she knows him and the
life where she falls for Peter Parker . .
▄▄ *+...
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CHAPTER TWELVE; everything went wrong
"ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED BACK THERE?"
Amala looks to the window, cheeks flushing as remembers her long hug with Peter. "No. I'm not."
Her mother casts her a glance from the driver's seat, playful smile tugging at her lips. But even then, Amala can see that they don't quite meet her eyes.
She sighs and picks the skin at her thumb, desperate to change the subject. "Is Khalto okay?" (Khalto means 'aunt' in arabic).
"Yes, she's okay." Her mother says, sighing. "The doctor said it was a heart attack but she's stable. I don't know. We will see when we get there."
A frown settles on Amala's lips.
She mumbles a simple "okay" before focusing on something else.
The sun has set way past the horizon and so night time is upon them. Street lights become blurry dots at they drive down the interstate, cars drone past them in a hurry. A cacophony of honks and wheels churning can be heard.
The noise calms her down slightly, but she can't fully settle the worry in her stomach. She knows her aunt is okay but something doesn't feel right. Her stomach tightens into an ugly shade of sickness that she can't quite describe. It feels strange and Amala finds herself on the verge of throwing up. Yet, she knows she isn't because it's not that kind of pain.
Just an hour ago, she was sat in a booth at the back of the café, chatting away with Peter over some lattes and a cookie. Now, she's driving to the hospital.
Things can spiral so quickly.
As she stares at the morphing figures coming to a slow at the stop-light, a familiar term settles on her tongue. A name to the feeling... dread.
But why? She asks herself.
Yes, she is worried about her aunt's wellbeing but why dread? It doesn't make sense with the situation but she can't erase that bitter taste lodged in her throat.
She takes a deep breath, tracing the dents in one of her rings as she tries to ground herself.
Ahead, the stop-light blinks yellow, then green and with that, cars pick up their speed again and move past the intersection.
Bright light hits Amala's right and when she turns around, she's met with harsh head-lights blinding her. Confused, she scrunches her eyes.
What the fuck? She mumbles to herself.
Then, as if someone had altered the speed at which the earth functioned in, time slowed.
It's like she could make out every little detail. That specific glare the light casted against her side mirror, the sound of a car violently honking, confusion and fear bubbling in her veins
