Best Way Out

06

CHAPTER SIX

—

It's a Saturday and Amirah is on fire.

The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, the roads are pulsing with early morning life and Amirah is in a prison.

Nothing feels worse than doing something that you enjoy doing, and then having to face the repercussions of it the very next day, she decides.

This is okay, her brain tells her while her knees sear beneath her. It's a Saturday. You have nowhere to be.

Except, she's supposed to meet Victor today.

It's only been one night— one singular night without Victor and the sea and his dress and the sea and his smile and the sea and the sun— but still, she's supposed to see Victor today. She's supposed to meet him for tea, because apparently, he hates tea, and she intends on changing that.

Well, intended. She's not quite sure she's going to be changing Victor's stance on tea any time soon; not today at least.

Cancelling plans with someone is always a gamble, Amirah has come to realise. After years of experience with friends not inviting you to social gatherings any longer because of the one, two, three times you cancelled on them because of your health, she's come to terms with the fact this could potentially be the end of her short-lived friendship with Victor.

Still, she opens up her WhatsApp— the joy that filled her soul when she found out that Victor uses WhatsApp was immeasurable; after spending almost her entire life in Kenya, where WhatsApp was the main means of spreading silly little 'good morning' forwards and posting unscientific medical advice, and then having to make a switch to fucking iMessage when she uses an Android was... difficult, and frankly, unnecessary, in her opinion— and clicks open to Victor's chat, only to find a slew of messages.

Except, they're all deleted.

victor 🤗☺️😚 -
This message was deleted
                                              03:04 AM

victor 🤗☺️😚 -
This message was deleted
                                              03:04 AM

victor 🤗☺️😚 -
This message was deleted
                                             03:06 AM

victor 🤗☺️😚 -
This message was deleted
                                           03:07 AM

And five more messages that are nothing short of deleted, spanning all the way up till half past three in the morning.

So, she does the only thing she knows to do— she sticks her nose into his business.

Though to be fair, he made it her business when he sent her a tangent of deleted messages.

Amirah -
victor????🧐🤨😟😥🤔

Maybe the emojis are a bit much, but she's always thought the yellow ones are especially cute.

Instantly, the two grey tick marks change to blue.

And before she knows it, Victor is calling her.

"Hullo, Victor!" she chirps, as if her pain isn't sending her body into the fucking exhaustion stage of the GAS model, as if everything is fine and dandy. "Why are you deleting messages like a little piss baby?"

A quiet chuckle emits from the other end of the line, such an inherently Victor chuckle that for the briefest of moments, Amirah wants to just tell him. Tell him that she feels like death. Tell him that her body hates her today. Tell him that she hates being alone when she's like this, but she also hates for anyone to see her like this.