. . . .

Life was stringing me alone. . .
Then you came and cut me loose. . .

~Clean Bandit
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   I can't help but keep thinking about the familiarity in those golden eyes.

Where have I seen them before?

I have met a lot of people in all my short lives but I don't remember meeting him. Yet deep down I feel like, I have seen those eyes somewhere. I know that guy, but where?

The encounter with the guy refuses to leave my head, even as I resume my work in the laundry room. Like Sandra, he had the same easing blanket around him.

But I felt more.

I don't know how to explain it but right before he appeared at that door, I felt more. The symphony was almost complete, the only thing missing was — I don't know, but something was missing.

Was someone else in the room?

Or could it be— something else?

The walls around the hotel, the corridors, the elevator, they no longer remind me of Sandra's touch. Sandra's effect was like a mere wind compared to the storm I felt a moment before I opened my eyes.

Returning my attention to my work, I begin separating the clothes he gave me, so I can place them into the washing machine.

As soon as my hands touch the first piece, I feel it. A soft hum emerging from a jacket under the pile.  My heart suddenly starts racing as I reach out trembling fingers to pull the black coloured jacket. As the first of my fingers brush against the fabric, I feel a bright light flash in front of my eyes and I start seeing the strangest of image— a vision.

'There were tall beautiful green trees lining a street, making it look so captivating. The trees swayed to the rhythm of the soft wind that aerated the street. The air was so pristine.

Everything was so beautiful.

It looked like heaven. . .

There was someone on the street and he was wearing the same jacket.
I couldn't see the person's face, but I could tell it was a man. His hair, dark and sleek, was cut low.

He was holding tightly unto something— a key chain or watch chain?

I couldn't tell for all I saw was his broad shoulders and strong long legs that had a happy bounce to it as he moved effortlessly on the street.

I strained my neck to try to see his face. I tried to—'

"Shaftey!" Uche squeals, ending the vision all together.

"Huh?" I say distracted with the jacket.

Who was that guy?

"Why you dey turn neck like turkey wey dem wun kill?" He demands moving his eyes all over my body.

"Huh?" I blurt again, this time looking at him.

"What is- Huh-Huh?" He asks furrowing his brow, "shey, you are okay?"

"Y-yeah, I-I am fine," I stutter, beads of sweat breaking on my fore head.

He raises a shaky brow to me, "if you like fall sick, what I am about to say, you must do it oh!"

"I am not sick," I reassure him, "what do you want me to do?"

"Good. You see the guy you just met few minutes ago?" I nod my head to urge him on. "Ehnn, that's Ant-man," he blurts.

"What?!" Both my inner voice and the outer one screams at the same time. "That's Anteros?" Why did he look so familiar, I haven't met him before, have I?

"Yes baby girl, and I have more news!" He says grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" I ask, my mouth still on the floor. That guy is Anteros?

"He wants to see you, tonight!" He cheerfully informs me.

I want to talk to this Anteros guy. I want to ask him about the jacket— well not really ask him directly— I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself. And then that feeling, that healing magnet in his room. . .I want to find out more about that.

I am about to scream yes to Uche, when I remember someone else that is tangled in all of this — Sandra.

"Wasn't he suppose to have a date with Sandra tonight?" I ask him.

"Oh, that one is settled na. Cuppy will take Sandra while he will take you and me!" He announces batting his eyes seductively.

"You and I? Didn't you come here begging me to let Sandra take you on her date— again?"

I want to ask him who 'Cuppy' is but I'm guessing that's the new nickname for Anteros' brother, so I don't ask him that.

"Ehnn I did do that. But now that Ant-man is taking you out, I have changed venue oh!" He says, excitement literally oozing out of him. If I reject the invitation he might just tie me up and drag me to the date himself, so I accept for my own safety.

"Oya leave all these things let's go get you a dress, you dun dey wear this gown since you started working here!" He says pulling me away from the laundry room, "no go disgrace me in public!"

I make to follow but I can't move. The wave of healing hits me so hard my eyes begin to water. My lung close in on itself and breathing becomes very difficult.

"What is happening to me?" I ask myself. The emotion is unlike anything I have ever felt before.

Uche sensing the resistance, looks back at my hand— the one he is pulling— and moves questioning dark eyes to mine, but upon seeing my state, concern washes over him. "Sewa, what is it?"

I open my mouth to speak but my tongue refuses to move, instead I take in sharp breathes holding unto the closest washing machine for support. My pain is totally gone. The eternal ache in my heart seem to be healing and the effect cuts my air supply. Looking up, I find my knight in shining armour.

"Where can I find the young man, Uche?" he asks my colleagues. His voice sounds just like a violin, strong yet gentle but somehow. . .filled with pain.

The voice of someone who has lost something very precious to them. Like the hurt soul I search for in that enchanted corridor of pain and beauty. The male whisperer!

What is happening to me?

Uche is screaming questions at me but I can't hear him. I only see his lips moving but the world remains silent and all I hear is the echoes of the man's voice; while he approaches my side of the laundry.

His posture says he is angry about something but his eyes. . . they tell a different story.

A tale of a broken man.

He moves his face to my direction and our eyes meet.

If I thought the world stopped when he spoke, I was mistaken because now, the world has truly stopped.

My heart has stopped beating.

Uche isn't moving anymore.

Nobody is.

The only thing moving, is him. The man in my vision. Yes, he is the same man the jacket just showed me. The black, sleeked hair is the same.

But is he really the male whisperer? If he is, why is he here? And why does he look so familiar?

His gray eyes mirrors the commotion inside of me. Yet, he doesn't stop, he keeps getting closer. His heart beat filling my ears with echoes of his pain and joy.

The closer he gets the more difficult it becomes for me to breathe, and yet the more my pain goes away.

His presence is not just healing me, it has completely taken my pain away.

If Sandra's presence is like a wind. Anteros' presence like a storm, this man. . .presence brings with it the strongest of hurricanes of healing, my bruised heart has ever felt and it hurts to stay away from him, the reason for my breathlessness.

Who is this guy?

Why does it feel like I know him?

How did he cure me?

"Óshún," he whispers, confirming my doubts.

He is the male whisperer!

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