Encounter with Callum

A week passed in the blink of an eye and Calli was still stuck inside the hospital room. She was never severely injured and she had no information whatsoever regarding the functioning of the hospital. Yet, she was aware that a person with second-degree burns wasn't needed to stay at the hospital for that long. 

Valencia De Luca visited her religiously, without taking a single break. Even on days, she had no shift, she would take out extra time to visit Calliope in the hospital so the latter wouldn't feel alone in the hospital. 

She brought several books for Calliope to pass her time and the latter accepted it with a smile. She had no idea that the person she was giving books to read in order to pass time, in actuality, couldn't read so well. 

Calliope had a learning disability and she wasn't able to read and write properly. However, it wasn't as bad as it was once upon a time. With proper help and competent teachers, she had improved a lot. But still, she couldn't read or write as fast as a normal person did. Yet, she tried to read those books because she didn't want to break Valencia's heart. She wasn't taught to refuse someone's goodwill. And Valencia De Luca had been nothing but a selfless angel to her. 

Where a person took five minutes to read a single page, it took her thirty minutes. Slowly but surely she was able to reach the hallway through the book in seven days. 

While struggling with reading the book, Calliope was reminded of those days when her father used to lock her in a dark storeroom to reflect on her faults. 

It wasn't her fault that she couldn't read and write like a normal person and nobody was able to recognize that she was suffering from a learning disability. It was only when Jane talked to her father about the rare disability she was suffering from did he appointed another teacher for her.  

She was scared of her father because his punishment and silent treatment were worse than any corporal punishment. Some days she would wish to be hit by a rod than endure his cruel silence towards her. He never talked to her. He didn't even like her. He wished she was dead. 

What he didn't know was that she too wished that she was dead!

Her father's behaviour towards her caused her personality to turn timid and cowardly. She would shiver in his presence and sometimes unable to form words. Eventually, her inability to form words in front of him turned to a deadly and embarrassing disease called stuttering.

 Her father was mortified enough to not bring her with him to any occasion. She wasn't worth coming out of the house, worse out of her room in the dark and gloomy wing of the Wilding household. 

Calliope sighed as she tossed those unbearable memories to the back of her mind where it didn't hurt having them. She was lying on the same bed for seven days straight. Now even her butt hurt lying there. Slowly, she got out of the bed, trying to not hurt the wounds on her neck and leg. 

Opening the door unhurriedly, she breathed in the disinfectant's smell and heaved out a sigh once again. 'For how many days would you hide? One day, you will have to go where you came from?'

She was so lost in her inner monologue that she failed to catch sight of a small boy bumping into her. She would have fallen on the ground, hurting her injuries if not for a pair of strong arms catching her on time. 

"Gotcha," Someone whispered near her ear, sending shivers down her spine. As she looked up, she was mesmerized by a pair of dark eyes boring right through her.

The wind must have been knocked out of her lungs because she found it hard to catch air in his presence. She gulped, trying to breathe in a steam of oxygen but then she realized it wasn't how one breathed. On another try, she inhaled nothing but his musky and enthralling scent. This scent was more addictive than alcohol but not more important than oxygen. 

Who said only poets could play with words? 

She, an artist, knew the art of playing with words and hearts just as much an artist knew. 

After what seemed like an eternity, she realized that she was seeking comfort in his strong and safe arms. Yes, strong and safe. The feeling she never felt before. 

She squirmed a bit and he loosened his arms around her, letting her stand on the ground safely. His one arm still on her waist, making sure that she didn't trip or worse her injuries.  

Oddly enough, his eyes were full of concern and worry. Was it for her? She wanted to ask. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to inquire about the man whose coat she was keeping hostage in her Almirah. And it made her flustered to admit that she didn't want to return his coat to him for some reasons that even she wasn't aware of. 

"Thank you," Calliope whispered and his worried eyes softened at the choice of her words. She didn't fail to add,  "Mr Facci." 

His face lit up like Christmas light as he realised that she still remembered him. Under her study, he was intimidating and perhaps a bit overwhelming too. He had this magical power of making everything about him. His presence was undeniable and enchanting. In the room full of significant personalities, everyone's eyes would only settle on him. He commanded attention everywhere he went. There was something magical and soothing about his presence that she couldn't describe in words. 

"You don't need to thank me," Callum spoke, his eyes still bored into her mismatched ones. His voice had a hint of hesitation, nervousness and undeniably joy. He was like the kid who finally got the candy he had been asking for. And now that his candy was placed before him, in his palms, he was scared of touching it, scared that it might be just a hallucination or one of his never-ending dreaming. Yet, he couldn't refute the rush of happiness his heart was overwhelmingly filled with when he heard the voice he had been dying to hear. 

People were moving past them. Some crying for the loss of their loved ones. Some dancing and laughing,  celebrating the arrival of new lives. But Callum and Calliope were staring at each other, unable to turn their eyes off each other's face. It was impossible too. 

The loud voices of tormented, cries of miserables, laughter and giggles of blessed, were inaudible to their ears. A hush had settled in their world. The music of their abnormally fast-beating hearts was the only sound they could hear apart from their uneasy breaths.