Amara Cross POV
"I went through two really terrifying situations... if it wasn’t for a strange man who showed up out of nowhere and saved me. He punched the attacker so hard his face was completely messed up."
Asla gasped and leaned closer, her curiosity burning. "Wait, wait! A mysterious hero? Handsome? Strong?! Don’t tell me your first day turned into a real-life drama!"
I groaned in fake annoyance. "It was almost a real crime, and you’re daydreaming! I want to cry."
Our laughter slowly faded as Asla stood and headed to the kitchen. "Come on, I’ll give you some of my clothes so we can deal with the bag situation... I have pajamas with beetle prints. A fair compensation!"
I lifted my head slowly, genuine fear on my face. "Asla, don’t do this... I don’t want nightmares tonight."
I let my hair fall over my shoulders after undoing the tie, gently rubbing my scalp with a deep sigh of relief. Then I straightened, searching for my phone in my bag... but my hand met nothing but emptiness.
"That’s strange... where did I put it?"
I searched under the cushions, turned the bag upside down... nothing.
"I didn’t use it in the director’s office... or in the taxi... could it be...?"
My eyes widened in shock, and I felt the blood drain from my face. "Oh my God, no, not again!"
I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen in panic. "Asla! A third disaster!"
She turned to me, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. "Oh my God, my heart just dropped! What is it now?!"
I said, my face pale as death, "I forgot my phone in Mr. Dorian’s car."
She slowly put the knife down on the counter and looked at me in surprise. "Who? Mr. Dorian? The man who helped you today?"
I nodded and dragged a chair to collapse onto it in defeat. "What am I supposed to do now?"
We exchanged miserable looks until Asla pulled out her phone. "Here, call your number. If he has it, he’ll answer."
I grabbed the phone, my fingers trembling as I typed my number. I pressed call and lifted it to my ear.
It rang... and rang...
No answer.
I sighed in frustration. "No one’s answering... I must’ve dropped it on the street."
I was about to hand the phone back, but before it even touched the table, it suddenly vibrated in my hand. I looked at the screen.
"Amor!"
"It’s him! It’s him!" Asla and I screamed at the same time.
Silence filled the air as I took a deep breath, then my finger rushed to press the green button. "Hello? Is this Mr. Dorian..."
I didn’t finish. His deep voice filled my ears, heavy and masculine in a way that sent chills through me. "Little one, is this a phone or a maze? I press answer, and it throws me into a hair styling game."
My mouth fell open in shock, and I slapped my forehead. What a disaster. This cursed phone!
I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together, while Asla waved at me wildly, whispering, "Put... it... on speaker!"
I pressed the button nervously. "I’m really sorry, Mr. Dorian. My phone must have fallen in your car without me noticing."
"It’s fine. Do you want me to return it to you?"
I looked at Asla, who was practically bouncing like a rabbit and nodding excitedly. I tried to sound composed, but my voice came out stiff.
"Yes, if you don’t mind... but how will you return it?"
"I’m busy right now. We can meet tomorrow at three thirty at Señorita restaurant if you want, and I’ll give it to you then."
"Goodbye, little one. Don’t worry. Your phone is safe with me."
"Goodbye, Mr. Dorian."
Just before I ended the call, his voice came back, teasing. "By the way... your aggressive method of turning on that crazy phone works really well."
The call ended. I froze in place. What method? Then the memory hit me, me hitting the phone repeatedly in front of him to make it work. How humiliating.
I looked at Asla, who had collapsed on the floor, clutching her stomach from laughing so hard.
"Oh my God, did he see how you turn on your grandma’s phone?!"
She was coughing from laughter. I handed her a glass of water, pressing my lips together in embarrassment.
"I want the ground to open up and swallow me right now."
I pressed my forehead against the bus window, a shiver running through my bones like needles. I wanted to cry, sleep, or disappear for just two minutes away from this world. My head spun like a storm, and my temperature kept rising like I was burning from the inside in the middle of a freezing winter.
After a rough ride, I finally found myself in front of the university gate. My legs carried me unwillingly. The place was full of rich students. Everything around me felt slow, heavy, and blurred through the haze of sickness.
I felt like I no longer had a body, just a pile of exhaustion wrapped in a heavy coat. I decided to head to the clinic, hoping to find something to cool the fire burning through me.
I staggered as I walked, like I was drunk. The lights in the hallway danced in front of my eyes, until suddenly, a warm, strong hand grabbed my arm to support me.
I slowly lifted my head and saw a beautiful dark-skinned girl. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and light freckles decorated the tip of her nose like scattered sugar.
"Are you okay? I saw you in the lecture hall earlier. You looked tired. No one noticed you, but I was sitting behind you."
She took me to the doctor. Inside the clinic, the doctor turned to me with a gentle smile. "Alright, I’ll take care of you now, little one. Come here, Amara."
My heart skipped at the word little one. I don’t know why Mr. Dorian’s image suddenly flashed in my mind.
"Let me check your temperature first," the doctor said, placing the digital thermometer under my tongue.
She frowned slightly. "Almost forty degrees... that’s high. You’ll stay here for a while. I’ll give you a fever shot and some medicine for your runny nose."
My body started trembling from the cold despite the warmth of the room. I extended my arm in surrender when the doctor approached with the needle, closing my eyes tightly when it touched my skin.
"You’re new here, right?" she asked while pressing cotton on the injection spot.
"Yes... it’s my first day at the university..."
I parted ways with the girl when she went to the restroom, and my feet carried me to the hall she had described. But a woman in her thirties stopped me with a sharp voice.
"Excuse me, are you Amara Cross?"
I stopped and turned slowly. "Yes, that’s me, ma’am."
Her right eyebrow lifted in a strange look, a mix of disdain and indifference, as if I had committed an unforgivable crime.
"Go to the director’s office immediately."
My eyes widened in shock, and I froze. What did I do? Why would the director want to see me on my first day?
"Why...?" I asked hesitantly, but she cut me off sharply, wounding my pride.
"There is no why. Move that ass of yours and go to the office!"
I gasped in shock and instinctively grabbed my backside, drowning in embarrassment I had never felt before. She ignored me and walked away. I searched for the office nervously until a student guided me.
I stood in front of the large door and knocked softly.
"Come in," a calm masculine voice said from inside.
I opened the door slowly, not daring to lift my eyes from the floor.
"Are you the student Amara Cross?" he asked, his tone assessing.
"Yes... that’s me," I replied in a barely audible voice.
Silence filled the room for a second, then he spoke more firmly. "It’s not polite to avoid looking at the person you’re speaking to, Miss Cross."
That tone... that voice... it felt familiar in a way that terrified me. I slowly raised my head, and the moment my eyes landed on the man behind the desk, I gasped sharply as if the air had been stolen from my lungs.
"Mr. Dorian?! Are you... the university director?!"
He sat there with a commanding presence, his hands clasped on the desk, his dark eyes fixed on me with calm intensity.
"We greet first, don’t we?"
I gasped again and quickly bowed, trying to gather my scattered dignity. "Hello, Mr. Dorian."
I stood there for a few seconds, lost, then turned to leave. Just before my hand touched the door handle, I turned back to him quickly.
"Mr. Dorian..."
He lifted his gaze to me calmly. I swallowed and asked in a low voice, "My phone... I mean... do you have it with you now?"
He didn’t speak. A simple hum confirmed he still had it. I took a deep breath and finally said with a bit more confidence, "Can you give it to me then?"
He watched me in silence that felt provoking, then spoke flatly, his expression unchanged.
"At three o’clock. Don’t be late."
