Bound by Blood: He was her sin, her savior… and her blood.

Amira’s POV

Sunlight struck my face, harsh and golden, blinding me for a second.

I sit up from my bed, covering up the light, and I stretch my hand, finally jolting awake.

Once again today, I had the dream that I wasn't supposed to be having. But ever since I could remember, I've had that dream, and it scares me to death knowing that my body reacts to him like that.

I reach down my underwear, and it's wet again, all because of him.

Today is my eighteenth birthday, so I shouldn't be thinking about him.

My chest tightened with a strange dread. Freedom should feel like soaring, but I feel frozen, perched at the edge of something I don’t understand.

I swung my legs over the bed. The cold tiles underfoot sent a shiver up my spine, and I rubbed my arms, savoring the feeling of skin against air.

Five years of dreaming, planning, longing for this day, and thinking that I could finally be my own person. And yet, something in the air felt wrong.

University. Independence. No one to tell me when to sleep, when to eat, or what to wear.

The thought makes me tremble with anticipation.

I glanced at my reflection.

My face looks different. My body has changed over the years.

I am no longer the little girl who ran to Zayn when I scraped my knees.

I am… different now.

Fuller, a little bit curvier too.

I ran my hand through my silky black hair to adjust it from the messy sleep style.

"It’s my day," I whisper.

"Finally, I get to decide who I want to be."

A sudden gust from the open window made the curtains dance.

The glass picture frame on my dresser quivers, teeters, and shatters to the ground.

I bend down to the floor to clear up the mess that was formed.

I gasp as I prick my finger trying to pick up a shard. Even this small pain feels like a warning, a prelude to chaos I didn’t yet understand.

It's supposed to be my happy day, and yet, all I want to do is wrap myself up in a blanket and never come out.

I walk over to the door and pick up the broom and dustpan to clean up the mess.

With trembling hands, trying to steady my breath, I did the messy job and discarded them into the bin.

I dust off the broken frame, my fingers grazing the edges of glass shards.

Zayn, looks so confident in this photo, and I can’t help the pang of jealousy.

He studied abroad and is now living the life I’ve dreamed of, while I’m stuck here, just cleaning up broken glass on my eighteenth birthday.

I hug the picture to my chest, feeling the admiration I have for him increase.

Zayn is my role model, and I plan to be a medical doctor just like him.

That is if my parents decide I don't get married first.

I drop the picture back to its former place.

I really feel envious of Zayn sometimes; just because he's a man, they even sent him abroad to study, and now that I want the same, countless family meetings had to be done before it was decided that I would go to the closest local university in our town.

I sighed, giving up on those hopeless thoughts.

I drag myself into the bathroom, my refuge.

The only place I can be myself before beginning my day being the perfect obedient daughter.

I strip off my nightgown and throw it into the laundry basket.

I walk under the shower and turn on the faucet, allowing the warm water to descend on me, hoping it would help loosen my nerves, but it did little to calm the flutter in my stomach. Something restless stirred inside me, like the air before a storm.

A knock jolted me from the shower, sending my heart into a frenzy.

Who could be here so early?

If you'd call waking up a few minutes before noon early.

The knock keeps on coming like they are about to break the door.

Then I remembered that Mom had told me she would be going out with Halim to run some errands early this morning.

Panicked, I wrapped a towel tightly around my thighs and rushed to the door, hair dripping, mind racing. I'm sure I would get a scolding from Mom for making her stay outside for all these times.

It's not even up to five minutes, but you know how parents are, always finding causes to blame for one's shortcomings.

"Forgot the keys again, Mom!" I laughed, forcing cheer I didn’t feel as I tried to unlock the door.

I barely paused to think as I fumbled with the lock.

The door opened, and I froze.

There before me isn't Mom, but my cousin, Zayn.

I felt so glad to see him that I forgot that I was only wearing close to nothing as I made my way to hug him, my D-sized boobs crushing down on him.

My figure is so small compared to his six-foot tallness.

"Zayn, you came early," I scream out in joy.

That's the first highlight of my day today since I dragged myself from the confines of my beloved duvet.

He's usually the last to attend all family gatherings, as he's always stuck in the hospital, but today, he's the first.

And gosh! Do I have a lot to catch up with him on?

"Amira," he croaks, his voice rough.

"Your mom asked me to drop this off."

I pull away, trying to take what's in his hand.

Suddenly, the towel slipped. My stomach dropped as cold tiles pressed against my feet.

I froze, my cheeks burning, and my pulse hammering in my ears.

I look up to meet Zayn’s gaze, realizing he has seen everything.