I Punched The Gang Leader [ON HOLD]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗 | The Confession Of A Broken Hearted

Hey guys! 👋🏻
First of all, I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who keeps on reading, voting and supporting this book ❤️
But at the same time, I'm very disappointed with the difference between the numbers of reads and the numbers of votings 😔
I just wanted you guys to know that I've been working so so so so so hard to plot down this book to make a huge difference from the other books out there 😿
Please guys, I need your votings as well 🙏🏻
Thank you! 💕

The house was achingly empty and unfamiliar. I haven't stepped foot in this old house for quite a while to feel like home again.

Dropping my suitcase, I went straight upstairs to my bedroom and there, in the corner of my room, was a very sad, small bed with the curtain flapping in the wind. I never noticed how dim the colour of the old peach fabric was the last time I saw it.

I fell onto the bed, shoes and all and mourned. The pain was unnoticeable, indescribable...

Physical, mental.

It was everywhere, cutting me down to the bones and dancing all over my soul. Grief.

"Oh mom, if you were here, you'll know how to deal with all of this." I wept, clutching the handkerchief in my hand and surrendered myself to the grief.

I opened my eyes, terrified as my hands clutched the sheets. But I wasn't in Hunter's arms no more, warm and cozy in our bed. I was in a bed in my old house and the smell of dust in the air.

Hunter.

I shut the door on that thought immediately. No. Don't think about him. I can't think about him. I don't want to start crying again.

I got out of bed and moved to the window, hooking my hands out of it. My head felt clearer but the sorrow was still there, everlasting.

Then I remembered that Amira's house wasn't that far away from mine. I guess I'll go pay her a visit. I've missed her so much.

After that, I walked back downstairs and went outside. The neighbourhood hasn't changed a bit since I left. It was a breezy April afternoon. The weather was gorgeous today, that means a high pressure front, right? Blue skies, no wind, ambient temperature. Perfect.

Making my way up the wooden framed porch, brilliantly white with new paint, the bright red door, a floral fragrant entrance to her bungalow.

I knocked slightly on the door and called, "Assalamualaikum, Amira?"

"Waalaikummursalam." I heard someone answered from inside the house.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal her in a mint green hijab and a white pleated blouse. A smile spread across her lips as soon as she caught, "Sahara!" she exclaimed, inviting me into her arms and I rested my head on her shoulder.

We pulled apart and she held my hands in hers, "I'm so happy to see you. It's been a while, you know?"

"I know. I've missed you so much." I said.

For a moment, I thought I've done a great job of hiding the swollen and dark circles around my eyes with the concealer but I was wrong.

Amira reached out for my face and frowned, "Hey, are you okay?"

I slapped those ridiculous thoughts away, faking a smile instead, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No. It's your eyes. Have you been crying, Sahara?" she shook her head, refusing to believe my lies.

She turned her head to the left and to the right before landing back on me, "Where's Hunter?"

There, the six letters society fears most just slipped out of her mouth.