Night had slowly begun to swallow the city.
The dim streetlights flickered outside the apartment windows, while the soft hum of the wind brushed against the glass.
As soon as Zain stepped inside, he shut the door behind him and walked straight to his bedroom. Without bothering to switch on the lights, he collapsed onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as if drained of every ounce of strength. His eyes fixed on the ceiling above, blank, unblinking… but his thoughts refused to stay still.
A memory, uninvited, pushed itself back into his mind.A flash. A fragment.
The crowded subway. The screech of train brakes. The restless shuffle of dozens of feet across the platform.He was there, sitting on a corner seat, waiting with no urgency, lost in his own thoughts. then—her.
Until it happened.
A girl stumbled into someone. The collision sent her sketchbooks, loose papers, and brushes scattering like fallen leaves. They spread across the cold subway floor, sliding in every direction—some stopping right at his feet.
Zain didn't move.
His hands rested on his lap, still. His gaze lowered slowly, following the scattered sketches… until it reached her.
Her face was flushed pink with embarrassment, lips pressed tight, eyes wide and restless as she bent quickly to gather her belongings. Every line of her expression carried both fire and fragility.
And in that instant—something inside him tightened.
The subway noise blurred. The strangers vanished. His entire focus was just… her.
The hurried way she moved. The way her hair slipped across her cheek. The nervous energy in her eyes, too alive, too raw.
**Beautiful**.
His heart stuttered. His breath felt heavier, as though this stranger had stolen it without meaning to.
But he did nothing.
He didn't bend to help.
Didn't utter a single word.
He just sat there, staring quietly, letting the moment carve itself into his mind like a secret.
And she never noticed him.
Not even once.
Her hands swept up the last of her brushes, her papers pressed tightly to her chest. She rose, adjusting her bag, and disappeared into the stream of people—without looking back.
Zain remained in his seat, unmoving, yet something inside him had already shifted forever.
That girl was Gulluna.
That was the first time he saw her.
And in that single moment, something inside him faltered.
And even now, Zain could not understand what had happened to him that day.
Why his chest had tightened… why his eyes refused to look away… and why even now, months later, that face refused to leave his mind.
But the truth was, he didn't ask himself why.
He didn't try to reason with it.
All he knew was that there was something inside him—some emotion, raw and unnamed—that he himself couldn't grasp.Back then, and even now, after crossing paths with her again—he found himself torn.
At one moment, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
At the next, he wanted to run, as if escaping her meant escaping himself....
The shrill buzz of his phone shattered the stillness of the room.
Zain blinked, pulled from the fog of memory, and reached for the device on the side table.
The screen lit up with a familiar name: Aunt – Ottawa. He swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear. A warm, worried voice instantly filled the silence.
"How are you, my child, Zain?" his aunt asked gently. "How's your health? Are you eating on time? You know I worry about you so much. Tell me, are you still going to college regularly?"
Zain responded with short, indifferent hums—"Hmm… hmm…" His tone was flat, distant, like his mind was still somewhere else entirely.
But then her voice softened, weighted with meaning:
Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary. You must come, Zain. I haven't invited anyone else because of you. I'll be waiting only for you."
Zain hesitated, his lips parting reluctantly.
"…Is it necessary for me to come?"
A brief silence followed on the other end, and when she spoke again, her words carried both affection and insistence:
"It's very necessary, my dear."
Zain closed his eyes, the phone still pressed to his ear. Inside, the same storm returned—the unease he couldn't name, the face he couldn't forget, and the strange feeling of running away
from what he couldn't even understand.
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