That night, I couldn't sleep.
Even after Zahid walked me home, even after his soft words and gentle touch, the truth stayed in my chest like a heavy stone.
I had seen something in his eyes… something dark, something hurting. And yet, I wasn't afraid of him.
I was afraid of what was behind him.
The pain.The danger.The blood.
I walked around my room restlessly, remembering the moment I had fainted that night near the alley.
I had bumped into a man soaked in blood.
That man was Zahid.
My professor. My savior. My…?
What was he?
Suddenly, a memory from my childhood slammed into my mind.
The sound of a scream.A body falling.Blood everywhere.And me — a small girl hiding behind a cupboard, too scared to breathe.
I fell to my knees, covering my ears as the memory flooded back like a nightmare made of glass.
Why now?
Why again?
Tears ran down my cheeks.
The next morning, I didn't go to class. I couldn't. My body felt heavy, like all the fear I had buried was now choking me from inside.
But by noon, Zahid was at my door.
He didn't knock loudly. He waited.
I opened the door slowly, wiping my eyes.
His eyes searched my face carefully. "You didn't come."
"I couldn't," I whispered.
"Flashback?"
I nodded.
He sighed deeply. "I shouldn't have let you see me that night. Covered in blood. You weren't ready for that."
"You killed someone," I said softly, my voice shaking. "Didn't you?"
He didn't lie.
"Yes."
The silence that followed was sharp.
But strangely, I didn't step back.
I should've screamed, should've run. But I didn't.Because the Zahid I had come to know — the one who sat under the tree with me, who held my hand with care, who stayed when I broke down — was not just a killer.
He was something more.
Something broken. Like me.
"Why?" I asked, not blinking.
He looked away, jaw tight. "Because some people don't deserve to breathe. He hurt a child, Rida. A girl. Left her to die. I followed him for days… then ended it."
I sat down, heart pounding.
"Do you regret it?"
His lips parted, but the answer didn't come easily. Finally, he said, "I regret that the world made me this way. I regret that the law doesn't protect the weak. And I regret that you had to see it."
I sat in silence.
He knelt down in front of me. "If you want me to leave… if you never want to see me again… just say it."
But I didn't say it.
Instead, I reached out with trembling fingers and touched his mask — the one he always kept nearby.
"You're not a monster, Zahid."
"I am," he whispered.
"No. You're just… someone who's seen too much darkness."
He closed his eyes and lowered his head.
And for the first time, I saw tears slide silently down the face of the man who had once looked like he couldn't feel anything at all.
We didn't talk much after that. We just sat together.
The air between us no longer felt heavy with fear.
It felt filled with a quiet kind of understanding.