Hearts On Fire

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•Synopsis

She defines the phrase 'Fire for Fire', but what happens if he doesn't see that fire bubbling in her rock? And not even understand it even if he sees it? At some point, her fire gets doused and she lives like a drowned cat with tears all over, but what hurts her the most is, he never notices. She hates him at first meeting, he derives joy from hurting her soul without an ounce of guilt. She sets to revenge, revealing the darkest secret of his life. On his quest for revenge, his walls will crack. The barries surrounding his heart will burn right before his eyes. His Drakaina, as he named her, will set his heart on fire and when he smiles back at her, her heart too will be set on fire.

•Chapter One: Court Case

The hot wave of the afternoon caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes, it was so hot that he could feel the way sweat was forming into beads on his forehead. He looked through the mirror and watched as they moved past the green plants and people walking on the road in a blurry vision. He felt nothing, not even the one he saw nearly thumped upon by another driver. All he could feel now was the hot air wafting through his nostril and caressing the pores of his skin. His heart was the same as it was, yesterday. Ten years back, and will be, forever.

The driver drove into the palace and he parked in front of the chamber his mother lived, before he looked at him. "We're here, sir." He nodded his head before the door was unlocked for him and he placed his legs down and stared at the palace. It was the place he hated to visit the most, at the same time the place he loved to visit the most. He loved it because he was able to see his Umma, and he hated it because he had to follow the ethics of the palace.

The two police officers saluted to him and he walked past them without even acknowledging them. The maids he met on his way knelt down to their knees and he didn't spare them a single glance. He was finally at the main living room of her chamber, where she was always seated. He heard as the maids announced his arrival and he walked directly to where she was seated, his mother.

She looked up and her eyes fell on his khaki cladded body and she turned away, he felt nothing. He sat down and smiled at her, all that she thought him had never went into the drainage, he was still practising. She knew he wasn't truly smiling, but she was glad he did, nonetheless.

"Good afternoon, Umma. I hope I met you in good health?" She sat upright before she crossed her legs and held a stoic expression. She seemed to be so much like him whenever she was together with him, because that was the only way he could truly understand what she meant.

"How many times do I have to tell you this? You can't come to the palace wearing khaki, Al-mustapha." He took a brisk look at her before he diverted his attention back to the television and spoke.

"What's wrong with me coming here with Khaki? Everyone knows, Umma." He shrugged his shoulder, and eventhough he looked at her, he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Don't just speak, read my mind first, Al-mustapha." He stood up from the chair he was sitting and moved closer to her, she looked deep into his eyes and then he began reminiscing the knowledge he was taught, which he only used when he was together with her.

She had her brows lowered, her lips were pressed firmly and she had her eyes bulged. Her right hand was clutching onto her knee, Al-mustapha thought and he blurted the words out even before he got a hold of himself. "You're angry at me, Umma. And you're trying to hold yourself back from an outburst."

She pushed him away from her and straightened herself on the chair, "You have to read people's mind first before acting, Al-mustapha. Don't ever let anyone know who you are."

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