prologue;

The story begins with Amira Kim Martha Granz having a ty day at work.

Again.

She wakes up, almost throws her old, wretched alarm-clock outside the window and sluggishly gets ready for another damnable day to end. She groggily munches her breakfast like a starved barbarian, gathers the endless number of files off the rickety dining table before bolting out of the ancient, foreboding and rumoured-to-be-haunted house that she was obliged to rent due to her incompetence at landing a six-digit, white collar job despite the framed Engineering Degree that hung on one of the walls. 

An unexpected hail storm and a tube ride later, Amira ends up ten minutes late for work which riles her good-for-nothing boss enough to lecture her for another quarter of an hour. By the time she reaches her chipped, gray desk, Amira is already in the foulest of moods.

It doesn't quite help when her arrogant s for colleagues snicker behind her back far too obviously at her misfortune for falling victim to the miserable weather yet again in London while her teeth chatter in the air-conditioned room. 

"Ignore them, darling. They're just a bunch of dim-witted bimbos." That's cue for Chen, the snarky receptionist, to enter the office. He is the only worker in the building who Amira tolerates to some extent despite the uncontrollable passion he feels for her that he has exhibited in more questionable ways than one.

"Bimbos are dim-witted, Chen." Amira bites back, not in the mood to converse.

"Woke up from the wrong side of the bed, I presume," He sneers, "As always."

"Leave before I aim this lamp at your face. As always."

"I missed you too, Love." He cackles before heading towards his desk up front.

Amira decides to once again ignore all the cat-calling and condescending voices and drowns herself in her basi