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In the realm of love, there are the tales of love at first sight and the slow burn of affection after getting to know someone. However, our hero found himself caught in the midst of a unique journey - he fel...
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"Is there power in letting go?"
"Letting go is just an excuse to lose what you want. True power lies in holding on—until they no longer want to leave."
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He watched her walk away and sighed to himself. "She looks cute when she's angry." With a confident smirk, he added, "She'll walk for exactly five minutes, then stop."
Having studied her behaviour closely, he knew her well enough to predict her next move. He pulled out his phone and set a five-minute timer, almost like a challenge to himself.
"I'll count down, and when the timer goes off, she'll be standing right in front of me."
As the timer ticked down, Justin leaned casually against his car, counting the final seconds. "Five, four, three, two, one..."
Right on cue, he heard her voice.
"Why are you still standing out here?" Shafaq asked, curiosity and frustration in her tone.
"Waiting for you," he replied smugly. "I knew you'd come back."
She frowned, sceptical. "What if I hadn't?"
Justin's smile widened, full of confidence. "Impossible."
"How could you be so sure?" She asked, feeling a little embarrassed to be returning to him on her own accord.
He shrugged with an air of nonchalance. "I just had a feeling. After all, I am the Justin Smith—handsome, rich, brilliant, and let's not forget incredibly charming," he said clearly enjoying himself.
She blinked, completely baffled. "Huh?" she asked, genuinely confused by his over-the-top self-praise.
"'Who does he think he is? Does he think I can't find my way back on my own?' I'm just answering your question," he clarified, smirking.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Those were the exact words she'd said to herself just moments ago. 'How does he know? Does he have some kind of listening device on me? Or worse, a tracker? she thought, her mind racing.
"And no," he continued, a hint of delight in his voice, "I didn't think you'd find your way out of here." His smirk was unmistakable.
It was unbelievable to her how well he seemed to know her, almost as if he could see straight through her. She toyed with the idea of asking how he had developed such an good understanding of her behaviour, but decided to hold back, not ready to give him the satisfaction of winning
"Let's go inside," he suggested, turning towards the house. She followed, still mulling over the strange exchange.
The interior of the house was larger than she had anticipated. Oddly enough, it seemed both clean and slightly untidy, as if someone had made an effort but left certain areas unfinished—perhaps for her to tackle.
