Chapter 2: Part 2: Meet Cute? Maybe Not...
Present day...
She flipped through the file she had in her hand. It was all that remained of her first field mission. She wondered if he remembered her. Their only encounter had been three years ago, but it wouldn't be easy to forget. His eyes had flickered with recognition for a minute. There was no mistaking it. Her hopes lay in whether he could place her in the right spot in the past, and she hoped not.
She had taken the rest of the day off as she had lots to figure out. Three years ago, the errand boy of her old target had single-handedly dodged her schemes, which her team had kept under wraps for over a year. And now here he was, all set to boss her around. His face set and suit starched but his eyes, like they used to back then, sparkled with secrets.
His ascend to fame had been suspiciously rapid. Two months after their plan collapsed, he left his old company and started his new endeavor with a new name. He offered handcrafted jewelry that customers could collaborate on the making of. It did take a while to pick up traction. Tushar was trying to cater to the ultra-elite who were already loyal customers to established jewelry houses. But his content on the internet painted him as a lone artist who worked on his terms, and people ate it up. pictures of a young man in dusty overall, with a smile shinier than the gems he worked with tool over the minds of those who could afford if and even of those who couldn't. The views and sponsorships kept him going till actual customers trickled in. But Mehar had doubts as to who was actually propping him up.
His sudden appearance here couldn't just be a coincidence. Mehar was not the agent she was once, and she is prepared to take him down this time. Night had fallen outside by the time she read through all the files. The tree across the road, facing her apartment, was buzzing with fireflies. She watched as it teemed and glowed in the night. She had to settle this tonight.
Three years before present day...
Azael looked up to meet the eyes of the offender. her eyes dazzled him, those brown eyes seemed to project innocence and yet, there was a glint of something else.
"I'm so sorry," she said, offering him the towel.
As he told her it was okay, he couldn't help but notice how the coffee wasn't as hot as he would've thought. His shock was merely from the suddenness of the accident and not from the actual spill.
At any rate, his shirt was clinging onto him at the front, soaked through. The flight attendant noticed as much. As she helped him bring down his luggage, stealing glances at him all the while, he noted the name on the badge she wore.
Mehar.
Her chief came with an apologetic smile stretched across her face and led him towards the washroom. Walking down the aisle, he turned back to look at 'her'. She stood on the red-lined walkway, and every line on her face read as an apology, but it did not seem to reach her eyes.
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