The university gates loomed ahead of them, tall and wide, iron bars half-open as if inviting and warning at the same time. Students poured in from every direction—laughing, arguing, dragging backpacks, adjusting hair, fixing sleeves. The air was loud, alive, careless.
Zayan stepped inside.
It felt unreal.
For a moment, he slowed down, his steps faltering as if his body wasn't sure it was allowed to be here. This place was full of beginnings, and Zayan had lived too long in endings.
Hadi noticed.
He didn't say anything at first, just walked beside him, letting Zayan match his pace.
"You okay?" Hadi finally asked, casually, as if asking about the weather.
Zayan nodded.
"Yeah."
A lie. But not a dangerous one.
They walked deeper into campus. Buildings rose around them—lecture halls, libraries, notice boards plastered with events and societies. Students passed them, and something strange began to happen.
People started looking.
Not staring exactly—but glancing twice. Girls whispered to each other. Someone nudged their friend and laughed quietly. A group of juniors slowed down just enough to look Zayan over.
Hadi noticed that too.
He stopped walking suddenly.
Zayan halted beside him, confused.
Hadi looked at him, then dramatically looked around, then back at Zayan. He sighed, placing a hand over his chest.
"Well," he said, mock-serious,
"there goes my reputation."
Zayan frowned. "What?"
Hadi smirked.
"You're gonna steal my spotlight, I swear."
He gestured around. "I mean—look at them. I'm no longer every girl's crush. We've got a young and handsome guy on campus now."
Zayan blinked.
Then—unexpectedly—he laughed. It was soft, surprised, like the sound escaped him before he could stop it.
Hadi grinned wider.
"There it is. First laugh of the day. Achievement unlocked."
Zayan looked away, embarrassed, but the smile stayed. For a second, the heaviness inside him loosened.
They reached a balcony-like open corridor overlooking the main lawn.
And then Zayan saw them.
The same group.
A circle of students sitting on the grass—laughing loudly, one of them playing with someone's bag, another teasing a friend who was clearly trying to study but failing. They looked careless. Loud. Alive.
The exact same group he had seen earlier from the balcony at Professor Farooq's house.
Zayan stopped walking.
His eyes softened.
He didn't realize he was smiling until Hadi followed his gaze.
"You know them?" Hadi asked.
Zayan shook his head.
"No."
Then, quieter, almost to himself:
"But… I'm glad they're here."
Hadi raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
Zayan kept looking at them, and suddenly his chest tightened—not with fear, but with memory.
His own crew.
The boys who used to sit on broken benches after school. The ones who laughed too loudly, fought too often, protected each other like it was survival. Faces blurred now, some lost, some changed, some gone forever.
His smile faded, but it didn't disappear completely.
It turned sad.
Hadi noticed that too.
"You don't talk much about where you're from," Hadi said gently.
Zayan shrugged.
"There's not much left to talk about."
They stood there for a moment longer before heading toward their department building.
That's when it happened.
Zayan felt it before he saw it.
That old, sharp pull in his gut—the instinctive warning that came from years of being watched the wrong way.
He turned.
And froze.
Harsh.
Standing near the corridor wall, taller now, broader shoulders, hair styled carelessly like he didn't care—but his eyes were the same. Cold. Narrowed. Holding recognition and something uglier underneath.
Harsh Rohan.
Rohan's older brother.
The shadow behind every bruise Zayan used to hide.
Their eyes met.
Harsh smirked slowly.
"Well, well," he said, stepping forward.
"Didn't expect to see you here."
Zayan didn't speak.
Harsh had always hated him. No clear reason ever given—just a quiet, persistent cruelty. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was because teachers liked Zayan. Maybe it was because Rohan envied him and Harsh took that envy and turned it into violence.
Back then, Harsh was older. Stronger. Untouchable.
But now—
They stood on equal ground.
Same university. Same level.
Harsh's smile twitched when he realized that.
"So," Harsh continued, voice low, venomous,
"you finally made it somewhere. Guess pity really does miracles."
Hadi stepped forward instantly.
"Problem?" Hadi asked, calm but firm.
Harsh glanced at him, unimpressed.
"Who's this? Your bodyguard?"
Zayan finally spoke.
"No," he said quietly.
"My friend."
That word seemed to annoy Harsh more than anything else.
He scoffed.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
Then he leaned closer to Zayan, whispering just loud enough:
"People like you don't stay upright for long."
Harsh straightened and walked away, laughing under his breath.
Zayan stood still.
Too still.
Hadi looked at him, concern replacing humor.
"Hey," Hadi said softly.
"You okay?"
Zayan nodded.
But this time, it wasn't convincing at all.
Something old had been shaken loose.
And Hadi realized—whatever Zayan was running from, it wasn't just memories.
It was people.