dear cupid...

2 a.m.

It was exactly as Liam had described—tall glass windows, double French doors that looked freshly painted, three floors, exclusive hardwood. The kind of house that practically begged to be exploited.

Carefully, Liam helped me climb to the second floor from the balcony. The door of the upstairs occupant was open, ironically. The room was dark, and a young woman lay on the bed, her silhouette carved out by the soft light of the moon. A patterned duvet covered her frame, her hair spilled across the pillow like it had been deliberately arranged for some model's photoshoot.

My poor eyes soon adjusted to the darkness and I could see the wardrobe and dresser at the opposite end of the bed, a large shelf filled with books and a flush door, probably the bathroom. I turned on my little flashlight and made sure that the black leather gloves I wore were still secure.

Whoever owned this house had money—real money. The wardrobe alone was a testament to that. African blackwood. It takes about 100 years for it to be ready and freaking expensive. Where did they get all that amount to craft a huge wardrobe like this one?

Golden floral embellishments traced the edges of its doors. As I opened it, not a sound escaped, not even a squeak. Inside hung luxury clothes—Louis Vuitton, Calvin Klein, NEXT. Beneath them were stacks of neatly arranged jewelry boxes. Gold, silver, pearls, sapphire, jade— What more could be worth more than these? Definitely not a relationship, I tell you.

The weight of these items didn't need any authentication test to check if they were original or not.The whole wardrobe was enough to change the lives of both Liam and myself and ten people included.

I hurriedly put all the jewelry boxes and hid them away in the drawstring I had carried. After putting them in, the bag was already half filled. I scanned through the bottom compartment and was confused for a moment and then ran through all the items there.

Underwears.

Ugh.

More clothes. And… a shiny object and… what do we have here… bills, upon bills, upon bills.

My bag had already filled up just at the wardrobe and I could sense that Liam had become anxious because we weren't meant to spend more than twenty minutes at this complex. Ten minutes was what we had to leave the premises. As I was about to slide the glass doors leading to the balcony, I noticed the cellphone on the bed. It was probably an iPhone or something. I contemplated leaving it and rushing to the car but somehow ended up still taking it.

The girl stirred. I froze. Her hand twitched against the duvet; she rolled to her side and let out a soft snore. I grabbed the phone, slid the door open, and climbed out, using the railing for balance.

Just as I thought, Liam was getting anxious. He always got like this. If we’d had proper jobs—if that stupid office scandal hadn’t ruined everything—we wouldn’t be out here stealing from strangers. But that was the reality now. We weren't taking these things for ourselves, it was for our boss.

I quickly jumped into the passenger seat and we sped away through the dark night. The city was asleep, and our route to the warehouse would take at least an hour.

Halfway through the drive, a shrill sound cut through the quiet. An annoying ringtone. Who uses that sort of thing for a ringtone?

I left it for a while thinking the caller would stop or something, but when it rang five times more, I wondered if the owner had found out yet. I opened the bag and tried searching for the phone. As I tried reaching it, I mistakenly swiped the white button towards the green icon. It was a woman, probably in her mid 40s, shouting words that I couldn't hear at first. She seemed scared and agitated.

“Glenda! Oh thank heavens! Glenda…”

Glenda?
The owner of the phone was a GLENDA?

“Glenda, where are you?? The house is on fire, where are you… Glenda?!” The woman continued.

That name rings too many bells. Bells that my teenage self had thought were wedding bells.

I paused for a hot minute, touching my eyebrows subconsciously and then faced down, focusing on the black carpet that I couldn't even see properly.

Glenda was… enchanting.

She was more than beautiful. I still remember her eyes, the paleness of her blue irises that made her look Irish, they were dreamy and whenever I looked at them, they seemed to stop time. She would smile softly, but that action alone made her a criminal.

I would be unable to control myself. I couldn't help but stare at her, watching her sit with her friends during lunch talking about some nerdy stuff— planes, stars and physics. I knew nothing about physics, but I learned to listen, just because she was the one speaking. I never told her how I felt. My friends teased me endlessly. I couldn’t even say “hi” without feeling like an idiot.

Glenda was smart, hardworking and again… enchanting.

But that was that time.

That was like 10 years ago. And I should have gotten over those feelings already but turns out it's still there, holding my poor heart captive. And pffft, what are the odds we'll meet again, we never even spoke, not even once. Well, besides the good morning and good afternoons, we didn't say much though we sat beside each other in chemistry class.

I sighed as I watched the alarmed woman persuade Glenda to answer. She began to cry. When she ended the call, the lock screen appeared, sending shocks through my spine.

It was a lady in a red midi dress, standing in front of a baby blue wall, clutching a small purse in one hand and the other hand resting on the wall. Perfect pose with the perfect boss lady facial expression. Probably a model.

Yes, go ahead. You can think what you're thinking. I'll just confirm it anyway.

It was the sorcerer herself. Glenda Vere.

I paused for a moment, allowing myself to try digest the fact that I just robbed the girl that made it difficult for me to breathe.

That's when it hit me.

“Liam, we need to turn back.”

“Tim, are you crazy?” Liam answered, face still focused on the highway.

“We need to turn back, and we need to turn back now.” I insisted.

“Why are we going back anyway?”

“Just turn it back.”

“I can't.”

“I'm freaking serious. Just turn it back.”

“No, Tim.”

“Turn it back!”

“No! Give me a reason to. Aren't you scared of the police?”

“Please.”

“Hell no, man.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “Glenda can't feel pain.”

“Shoot. Why didn't you say so?” He said, then immediately reversed the vehicle.

Thanks to Liam's excellent driving skills, we reached the apartment with a few bruises on our heads, but it didn't really matter. The ground floor and second floor were already in flames, but the second floor wasn't as bad as the other floor.

Unfortunately, the fire service hadn't reached yet and if Glenda was still in there, something had to be done. Looking at the people outside and a woman who was still shouting Glenda's name and crying, I was certain Glenda might still be inside. I climbed my way upstairs again, ignoring the screams and people around and the heat from the fire.

The heat was unbearable. Smoke filled my lungs as I climbed back to the second floor. The balcony glass had shattered. She was still there, motionless on the bed. She was now unconscious, given that she hadn't replied or woken up from the calls and tapping on her shoulder.

I pulled the patterned bedcover and used it to wrap her to protect her from what I had planned to do. I carried her in my arms and hurried out of the room. I couldn't jump through the window because I wasn't alone. I couldn't find the stairs easily due to the flames and smoke. When I finally found it, I hurried downstairs, through the heat and broke the entrance door open.

We made it.

The paramedics rushed in and took her. I climbed into the ambulance, sitting beside her as they drove to the hospital.

Inside the ward, there was total silence, except for the beeping of whatever that machine was and the sound of my shoes brushing against the smooth tiles. Glenda lay on the bed, still and unresponsive. By day three, I was still by the bed stand, waiting for her to recover. My burns had already been taken care of— there wasn't any cause for alarm. Well, in my own opinion.

When you love someone, you'd do anything for them.

I just sat there, you know, just… staring at her face. For three days. Three days turned to two weeks.

The next day, I woke up to a tapping on my shoulder. I had laid my head down on the bed and slept off. It was Glenda who'd tapped my shoulder. I could sense the confusion she felt. She didn't know what to say.

“Uh… don't worry, you're safe. You're at a hospital.” I started.

“I'm Tim. Uh… there was a huge fire at… your apartment.”

Those distracting eyes.

“But, I hope you get better. Uh…, as for me, I'm the one who brought you here. Coco… is outside with her husband. They, uh… are sitting outside.”

Coco was the one who'd called that day. The day of the fire incident.

Glenda stared at me for a moment, probably in disbelief.

“Timotheé?”

Wha… How does she know my name?

“Timotheé Lancaster?” She said again. “From chemistry class?”

Wait, she recognises me? What za hail?

How the hell did she recognise me??

I shifted in my seat, trying to hide the smile tugging at my mouth. She just kept on staring, confusing me the more.

“Are you okay?” I asked, finally.

“Yeah… I am, I should be.” She said, then smiled softly, then coughed violently.

I persuaded her to rest again, stating that we'd talk about stuff later. I needed to call the nurse and I went outside, still dazed. I told Coco and her husband that they can go in.

It felt good that she recognized me. But is good the right word? No, It felt… O Lord, I can't even describe what I'm feeling! Should it be called joy, elation, euphoria? I don't know. I'm just so… so… so… happy.

As I walked through the corridor, my chest felt impossibly full. Maybe—just maybe—the girl who had been carrying my first kiss all these years was finally within reach.

Even if we'd have to defy time and space.

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