The weather was changing.The wind had a chill in it.The kind of cold that didn't just touch your skin — it touched your bones.
I was sitting near my window, staring outside. I should've been studying, but my mind refused to focus.
It had been a week since Zahid slipped that note into my book.A single note… and yet it felt like a thousand words.
I held it in my hand now, reading it again. His words weren't dramatic. They weren't poetic. But they were real. Honest. And to me, that made them beautiful.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
Zahid: "I'll be at the abandoned railway bridge at 6 PM. Don't come unless you trust me."
My heart skipped.It wasn't a question. It wasn't a demand.It was a test.
And I knew… if I wanted to move forward, if I truly wanted to see the man behind the mask, I had to go.
6 PM – The Bridge
The place was almost hidden by trees, far from the city lights. Rusted iron, forgotten tracks, the hum of wind through silence.
Zahid stood there in his black coat, mask on. Alone. Still.
He didn't move when I arrived.
"You came," he said, without turning.
"I told you before," I replied softly. "I don't run."
He looked at me then, slowly, his cold eyes searching mine — not to scare me this time, but to study me. To see if I was still afraid.
I wasn't.
Not of him.
He motioned to a spot by the edge. We sat side by side. Silence wrapped around us again. But this time, it didn't feel heavy. It felt honest.
"I didn't call you here to scare you," he finally said."I know.""I called you here because this is where I buried the last piece of the boy I used to be."
I turned to him, confused.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I was twelve. My mother died right there…" — he pointed — "...and no one came. Not even the police. Not even neighbors."
My eyes stung.
"I waited for hours. I held her hand until it went cold. I screamed until my throat bled. But no one came."
He paused. "That's when I decided emotions were useless. That softness was a weakness."
He turned his head toward me slowly.
"But then you came."
The air was still.My chest ached.
He looked down at his hands. "When you touched me that day, when I was covered in blood… I didn't flinch because I was scared of being caught. I flinched because your touch… felt real. And I wasn't ready to feel anything again."
I placed my hand gently over his.
He didn't move.
"I want to help you feel again," I whispered. "But I also want you to help me."
His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I'm still scared too, Zahid. I still wake up at night remembering blood. Darkness. Screams. I still cry when no one's watching. You may think I'm soft… but I'm broken too."
His hand finally turned, his fingers slowly wrapping around mine. Tight. Warm.
"We can try," he said, voice low. "Together."
Suddenly, I leaned forward and rested my head on his shoulder.I had never done that before — not even with friends.But in that moment, I needed it. And he didn't pull away.
He just sat there, still, letting me rest.
And for the first time in years, I felt something I hadn't felt since childhood.
Safe.
When he walked me back to the road, the sky was dark but the stars were out.
As I opened my gate, he called softly, "Rida."
I turned.
He removed his mask.
And for the first time… I saw all of him.Not just the man the world feared — but the man he had feared becoming.
His face was handsome, but tired.Scarred. Sad.Real.
"You're not a monster," I whispered.
His eyes shimmered. "Then maybe there's still hope for me."