Night crawled into Aira's apartment like an unwanted guest.
She bolted the door.
Double-checked the windows.
Closed the curtains twice.
But the fear… it still got in.
Her brother was still in the hospital. He didn't even know what she had gone through to try saving him.
She sat on the floor, knees to her chest, phone in her hand.
One notification glowed on the screen:
> LEGALED CORP: We hope you got home safely.
Ready for another night?
Her blood ran cold.
They knew where she lived.
They weren't done with her.
Her hand shook so hard she dropped the phone.
She wanted to scream.
But fear made her silent.
---
The hallway outside creaked.
A footstep.
Aira's breath snagged.
She grabbed the closest object — a hair straightener — and held it like a weapon.
A soft knock.
Her heart stopped.
Aira didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
Another knock, gentle this time.
Her mind screamed It's them. They've come.
"Aira?"
Akil's voice.
Relief hit her so fast it hurt.
She opened the door just enough to see his face — disheveled hair, worry etched across every line.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered harshly.
Akil looked down the hallway before stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
"You weren't safe," he said simply.
Aira hated how much those words calmed her.
"Why would you think that?" she asked, trying to steady her voice.
He held up his phone — an unfamiliar message visible on the screen.
> Don't interfere. This doesn't concern you.
Aira's heart plummeted.
"They warned you too?" she whispered.
Akil nodded. "They're watching both of us."
Aira gripped the edge of the table to stay standing.
Her whole life had always been about survival — but this?
This was bigger.
Akil noticed the tremble in her hand. The fear she tried to hide.
He stepped closer, slow and careful — like approaching a wounded animal.
"Aira," he said softly, "you don't have to pretend you're made of steel."
Her jaw tightened. Eyes shimmered — just a little.
"I'm not scared," she lied.
He didn't call her out. He just looked at her — really looked.
And that was somehow worse.
"Aira," he murmured, "fear doesn't make you weak. It means you have something to fight for."
That hit her heart like a punch.
Her eyes finally lifted to meet his.
His concern was real.
His voice steady.
His presence grounding.
And for the first time…
…she didn't see him as the enemy.
Just a boy who was also trapped.
And choosing to stand by her anyway.
"I don't know why you're helping me," she whispered.
Akil swallowed, unsure how to answer.
Why am I helping her?
He didn't understand it himself.
All he knew was:
He couldn't walk away.
He cleared his throat, looking away, embarrassed.
"It's temporary. Just until we fix this."
Aira nodded… but something warm flickered in her chest before she could stop it.
She stepped back and gestured to a chair.
"You can… stay a little. If you want."
Akil tried to hide the relief in his exhale.
"Okay."
They sat — a careful distance apart — silence filling the room like fragile glass.
For the first time since the nightmare began…
Aira didn't feel alone.
---
As they sat in silence, Akil caught her looking at him — not with anger this time…
…but with trust trying to form.
It terrified him.
Because he wasn't sure what scared him more:
The enemies they were facing…
…or the feelings she was slowly walking in him