"Not every soul is the same..."
They say some souls are born with something rare —
A way of seeing the world differently...
Of feeling colors others never notice.
Even if that soul belongs to a 14-year-old like Zain."
It was evening, and the fading light cast long shadows across the house.
A cool breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves softly.
From every corner of the home, a desperate voice echoed —
"Hashir! Hashir! Where are you, son?"
It was Hashir's mother, her face wet with tears.
Her voice trembled with deep worry and fear that gripped every heart.
"Someone please find my child!"
Her words carried a restless urgency, as if time itself was slipping away.
She leaned toward her husband, whose face was lined with worry too.
"I'm scared... It's already evening, and Hashir still hasn't come home."
Hearing the commotion, Moon hurried outside, his footsteps quick and tense,
while Grandpa followed quietly, They asked Hashir's mother with surprise,
"What happened? What's wrong?" Suddenly, the gardener appeared from the sunlit garden, walking briskly.
In his arms, he carried Hashir — unconscious, his clothes torn and dusty.
"We found Hashir unconscious in the garden behind the house," the gardener said,
his voice quick and slightly breathless.
"There were broken toys scattered all around, and he was alone."
"Hashir! Please get better soon, we're all here for you…"
Meanwhile, Zain stood at the window of the upper floor of his house.
His face was calm and unreadable, yet his eyes held a deep, hidden weight .
A week later, Hashir returns home, finally recovered.
Grandpa takes Zain and Moon along to visit him —just a warm visit to ask how he's feeling.
At first, everything is quiet.
But the moment Hashir sees Zain,
His face freezes — not in surprise,
But in something closer to fear.
Then suddenly, Hashir yells out,
"Take him out of this room! Please! He'll kill me!"
Everyone in the room stiffens.
Eyes turn — one by one —
Toward Zain.
He doesn't move.
Doesn't speak.
Just stands there, still…
Watching Hashir with a strange calm.
No anger.
No guilt.
Just a cold, unreadable look —
As if he already knew
They were all beginning to wonder about him.
After they returned home, Grandpa's expression was heavy with thought.
He looked at Moon and said firmly,
"You go to your room."
Then he turned to Zain, "You come with me."
Inside the quiet study, Grandpa sat down and faced Zain.
"Zain, what did you do?" he asked calmly, but seriously.
"Are you hiding something from me? Did Moon say something to you?"
Zain's voice was low but steady.
"Hashir is a bad boy. He bullies other kids too. I'm not like him."
only went there to say sorry to him… from Moon. That's all. If you don't believe me, you can ask Moon yourself."
Grandpa raised his voice, "Moon! Come here!"
Moon entered, a little confused.
"Yes, what happened?"
Grandpa asked him firmly,
"Did Zain do something to Hashir? You both went together that day, right?"
Moon blinked.
"What? When did we go together? I wasn't even with him when he went to Hashir."
Zain suddenly snapped,
"Liar! After you showed me where he was, we both went to say sorry! Don't lie now!"
"Enough! Both of you!" Grandpa shouted,
Enough! Both of you!" Grandpa shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
"If I don't hear the truth now, I'll send Zain to Canada."
Then he sighed, voice softening.
"But maybe… things will settle. No need to say more. It'll be fine."
A strange silence lingered between them—one that felt more like a warning than peace.