Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 27

As he's leaving, Ali felt a heavy hand place itself on his shoulder, which he turned to see the man behind him, his face and appearance shadowed by his back, silhouette framed by the evening sun. He appeared fatherly; perhaps he has children.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "I'm free, so mind if I take you there?"

The car seats were comfortable, which was a luxury Ali hadn't enjoyed for years, even before his time at MATA. His father was always busy, rather letting Ali go around in his own accord than fetching him around.

The man sat at the front, exchanging words with his personal driver, their conversation quick and brief. Ali had no concept of car models, but he could assume from the facial recognition technology, the radio systems, and the cup holders that it costed suitcases of bills, and maybe some gold bars cashed in as collateral.

"We'll be there around five minutes," the man told him after confirming with the driver.

Ali looked up, but he could only see his own reflection through the mirror. For a second, his form flickered, turning opaque, but he returned to normal within the blink of an eye, like light playing tricks on a mirror.

He breathed in sharply, unnerved by his own unstable reflection. He'd been experiencing changes that he didn't know, and Fang hadn't been around to explain it, for there was no time for him to.

"Did you hear me just now?" the man repeated, snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiled, his smile bringing up faint smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "You get lost in your own head easily, huh?"

Ali looked down abruptly, hands placed on his thighs tensely. "Yeah. Five minutes," he answered. "Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it."

He wasn't lying. A stranger never showed kindness to him, ever.

"Is this really okay, though?" Ali asked, glancing out the window. He frowned as he noticed the cars around them made way for them, granting them a full access of the road, but he said nothing. "This seems troublesome."

Maybe this man was rich? An influencer, perhaps? Ali's experienced crowds parting ways for him, but it was mostly after displaying a show of power, or he was covered in blood, and the villagers were shocked by his brutal decision.

"Ah, nonsense," the man says, looking up from his phone. "I never caught your name, by the way."

"My name?" Ali turned back, alert. Many people had asked for his name, but they were all enemies looking for someone to blame for their failures. They died without the information they desperately sought. "It's Ali."

His name felt foreign, running off the tongue uneasily, like a marble he couldn't chew.

The man hummed, nodding. "It's a great name." He sighed. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I won't."

The car pulled up, the tires screeching softly as it came to a halt. To his right, Ali could see the park's playground, the equipment newly replaced, yet having the tear of wear and time. A golden glow was casted upon the land, framing the bright setting sun in the background, painting the scenery like a masterpiece.

Not forgetting his manners, Ali thanked the man and the driver, then hopped off the car in a mild hurry. There was nobody else around, save for few birds that pecked on the pavement for crumbs, searching for earthworms to eat. And when they found none, they chirped to their peers, and flew away with a flap of their wings.

When he turned around, the car had long set off, its small frame disappearing into the road's traffic. He could hear the faint hum of its engine, however silent and suppressed.