The next evening, I stood at the edge of a narrow road, waiting.
My hands trembled slightly.It wasn't cold.I was just… scared.
But this time, it wasn't the fear of Zahid.It was the fear of what he might show me — the truth he had hidden behind those black clothes, the mask, and the cold silence.
He had asked me to meet him.And I said yes.
Not because I trusted him completely…
But because somewhere in the dark, broken parts of me—I wanted to.
A black car stopped in front of me.The window rolled down.
He was driving.
Not a driver. Not a guard. Just him.
"Get in," he said quietly.
I opened the door and slipped inside. It smelled like leather and something faintly sweet — like the cologne he always wore. Sharp, but warm.
I didn't ask where we were going.I let him drive.
Sometimes silence can speak louder than any conversation.
🏚 The Destination
We stopped in front of a small house, far from the city.
Old. Broken. Lonely.
"This is where I grew up," he said, stepping out.
I froze.
He never spoke of his past.Never hinted at family, or childhood, or pain.
Yet here he was — showing me the place where his nightmares began.
We walked into the house.
It was dusty. Quiet.The kind of silence that lives in places long abandoned by love.
"This," Zahid said, standing in the middle of the living room, "was the only home I ever had. My mother died when I was ten. My father…"
He paused.
"…wasn't a father. He was a monster."
I didn't speak. I just stood there, heart breaking piece by piece.
"He used to hit me. Lock me in the basement. Said it would make me stronger."
He looked at a broken photo frame on the floor — a faded picture of a boy with wide eyes and a fake smile.
"I became strong. Cold. Silent. Just like he wanted."
I stepped closer.Slowly.Carefully.
"And your mask?" I whispered.
He looked at me. Then gently touched the black cloth over his face.
"I wore it the day he died. I never took it off."
My eyes widened. "You—"
"I didn't kill him," he interrupted, his voice low. "But I didn't save him either."
Silence fell.
"I was fifteen. He set fire to this house in a rage. He was drunk. I was locked in the basement. I escaped through the small window. He didn't."
Tears filled my eyes.
"You were just a child."
He shook his head. "I became something else that day. Not a child. Not a man. Just a shadow."
I couldn't take it anymore.
I walked over to him.Stood in front of him.And slowly, carefully, reached out to remove his mask.
"May I?"
His breath hitched. But he nodded.
I lifted the mask.
His face… was tired. Worn. But not broken.
There was a scar near his jaw — old and faded.
I reached up and touched it. "This isn't ugly. It's brave."
He closed his eyes.
Then, to my surprise, he leaned his forehead against mine.
"Why aren't you running away?" he whispered.
"Because," I said softly, "you're not the only one with darkness."
We sat down on the floor of that broken house.
No furniture. No light. Just two people trying to understand pain.
"I used to scream in the dark," I whispered. "After the murder I witnessed… the blood on the walls… I stopped sleeping for years."
He looked at me. "That's why you fainted."
I nodded.
"I wasn't weak," I continued. "I just… didn't know how to survive it."
Zahid looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
"You're stronger than anyone I've ever known," he said.
We stayed there for hours.
Talking. Crying a little. Laughing even less.
But for the first time, the weight of silence between us didn't feel heavy.It felt like healing.
When we finally left, I turned to look back at the house.
I didn't see a haunted place anymore.I saw a graveyard where Zahid had buried his pain.And tonight…He dug it up just to show me.
Because he trusted me with it.
And that meant more than love.
It meant hope.