Chapter 30 : The Weight of Forgiveness and the silence between us (Part 2)

The next morning.

The sun creeps gently through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold and grey.

The only sound…

Is his breathing.

Shallow. Steady.
Painful—but alive.

Alex lies on the bed, motionless, wrapped in thick blankets and bandages.
Beside me, Mariam sits quietly, arms folded on her lap. Amin leans against the wall, his face half-shadowed.

None of us speak at first.

No one dares to.

His breathing—every exhale—is proof he’s still with us.

I’ve never felt this scared… of silence.

Then finally—Amin breaks it.

“You know what…” he mutters, eyes still on Alex. “He’s getting stronger. Right, Mar?”

Mariam slowly nods. She leans over and gently brushes Alex’s hair back from his face.

“Yeah… he is. Ever since LA…”

LA?

I blink and glance at her. Something in my chest tightens.

“What happened in LA, Mariam?”

Her eyes drop to the bedsheet. She lets out a long sigh. There’s a pause—a hesitation. Like she’s weighing how much she wants me to know.

Then finally, softly:

“He ended something there. A feud. Something he’d been carrying for years…”

She glances at Alex again, and there’s warmth in her voice, but also fear.

“He united people. Brought them together. Turned broken streets into a community. I’ve never seen anyone like him. Ever.”

Amin chuckles faintly, but there’s no humor in it.

“Yeah… he did all that. And somehow still ended up like this. I bet he’s used to bleeding.”

I stare at Alex. His face is calm, but distant—as if he’s somewhere far away even now.

What kind of life did you live before all of this…?

But there’s something else. Someone else.

The name that’s always next to his.

“That man Alex is always with… Soro. Who is he?”

Mariam freezes.

Her lips twitch like she wants to smile. But it comes out… wrong.

“Well… he’s cool.”

That’s it?

“That’s not what I mean,” I press. “You’re dodging.”

Amin scoffs from the corner.

“Don’t even bother, Sil. Just ignore that guy. Gives me the creeps. Something about him isn’t right.”

That confirms it.

There’s more.
And they’re not telling me.

Just who the hell is this Soro…? And why is he always there when Alex is about to break?

Mariam changes the subject—too quickly.

“By the way… Priscilla’s resting at her dad’s house. He called this morning.”

I blink. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. She’s sore. Bruised. But okay. Her dad thanked Alex… said it was because of his swift action she’s alive.”

The silence returns.

But it’s heavier now.

And I can tell—

Mariam is avoiding the topic.

So Soro is more than just a mentor… maybe even more than an ally.

And I need to know why he’s always near Alex when the world’s about to burn.

The room is heavy.
The kind of silence that presses down on your chest until you forget how to breathe.

Alex still sleeps, still unmoving.

His chest rises gently beneath the blanket. But his expression—it’s calm, too calm. Like he’s floating somewhere far away from here.

I sit beside him, gripping the edge of the chair so tight my fingers ache.

Then—Mariam places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Her touch is warm, but her eyes…
There’s pain there.

“Alex isn’t alone, you know,” she says softly.

“He never truly lets us in… even after everything we went through.”

I look at her, heart hammering.

“Even you? You were with him in LA, weren’t you?”

She hesitates—brows furrowing, lips tightening.

“Even then…”
“He still kept part of himself locked away.”

“Why…?” I whisper.

The suspense claws at my throat.

“It’s about the clone,” she says finally, voice low. “It’s about Frederica.”

I freeze.

Frederica…

That name hits me like cold water. The name he only ever says when he thinks no one’s listening.
The name I saw once, written in the corner of an old photograph he keeps hidden in his drawer.

Mariam continues, her gaze distant.

“That’s the day everything changed. The day he stopped being… just a kid.”

Amin steps forward, arms folded, but his usual joking air is gone.

“He’s not normal, Sylvia. Not anymore.”

“The way he moves… reacts… his agility, his reflexes… it’s like fighting a soldier.”

He shakes his head, frustration in his voice.

“It’s not human. He sees things before they happen. Like some kind of sixth sense. Sometimes… it scares me.”

I stare at Alex’s still form.

Superhuman? No… not just that. Something deeper. Something darker.

Suddenly—the tension is broken as the door opens quietly.

Dad walks in, followed by Uncle Usman. Both of them wear that look of quiet dread and stubborn hope.

Behind them—

Mr. Habeeb, the police director who helped Alex through too many dangerous nights.

His presence is grounding, like a rock in a storm.

Uncle Usman’s voice trembles as he whispers, stepping toward Alex’s side:

“Mashallah… Alex…?”

Dad just sits down beside him. Silent. His lips press into a tight line. His shoulders hunched, as if the guilt has turned into a physical weight.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just sits.

And Mr. Habeeb, calm and composed, takes out a worn, folded Quran from his jacket pocket.
He opens it with practiced hands and begins to recite—Ayat al-Kursi.

The familiar rhythm washes over the room, its syllables vibrating in the air like armor.
The verse for protection.
For warding off evil.

I know this… Mom taught it to me…

Mom finally enters the room, her steps quiet, as if trying not to wake a sleeping soul.

She kneels beside me and gently strokes my hair.

“Don’t worry,” she says softly.

“He’ll be alright. He’s just… resting.”

Her voice is soothing.
But I can’t look away from him.

Because resting or not—

I know Alex isn’t just fighting to stay alive.

He’s fighting what’s inside him.

The room is still, except for the soft rustle of pages as Mr. Habeeb closes his small Quran and rises.

He glances at Mom, and something unsaid passes between them. Something heavy.

“A moment, please,” he says gently.

She nods. Without a word, the two of them step out into the hallway.

I don’t hesitate.

Quiet as a cat, I slip off my chair, tiptoe to the doorframe, and press my back against the wall just beside it. My heart pounds—not from fear, but from instinct.

They’re hiding something.
And I need to know what it is.

Their voices are hushed, but the hallway echoes just enough.

“That boy…” Mr. Habeeb starts. “He’s getting stronger by the minute.”

My breath catches.

“He’s not someone you can handle anymore. He’s going to find out soon, and when he does… that decision will be his.”

Mom’s voice is quiet—but firm.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

There’s a pause.

Then…

“To put it simply? A soldier. No—an efficient one. The kind that doesn’t hesitate. Soro contacted me about it. Said Alex single-handedly took down an entire group of armed men.”

My eyes widen.

Soro again…

Mr. Habeeb’s voice tightens.

“And not just brute strength. Tactical. Silent. Calculated. Like he’s trained for it since birth.”

“That kind of growth…” Mom mutters. “It was expected. But why the violence?”

A heavier pause now.

Then something colder in his voice.

“Because Soro is the man the organization once tried to replicate… through the clones. But they failed.”

“He’s not just a soldier. He’s a prototype that can’t be recreated. And now, he’s passing that blueprint to Alex.”

Clones… prototypes…? What kind of past is this?!

Mom exhales sharply.

“Then all the more reason to keep this quiet. I want Alex to live normally. I don’t care about politics, or shadows, or control. If Man is finally safe from their hands, then my only focus now is protecting Alex.”

“As it should be,” Mr. Habeeb agrees. “But we must stay alert.”

“Keep me posted. But for now… Alhamdulillah... I can feel it. He’s fine. Just… exhausted.”

“Yes,” Mr. Habeeb says softly. “Very.”

A silence follows. Then footsteps.

I dash back to my chair, settle beside Alex again just as the door opens.

They both reenter, composed. Calm.

But I can still feel it.

There’s a war coming. One Alex hasn’t even fully seen yet.

And when he wakes up—

I need to be ready to walk through it with him.

The house feels warmer now.

Lights are on. The scent of antiseptic still lingers from the chaos earlier. But laughter from downstairs—Hana, Steward, even Amin—creates a peaceful hum in the background. Mom is preparing dinner with Siti in the kitchen. Dad's voice occasionally floats in from the living room.

For a moment, it feels… normal.

Too normal.

I slip away quietly, making my way upstairs. Just to make some tea. Just to breathe.

As I reach the second-floor hallway near the side kitchen, I pause.

Outside the window—on the back balcony—a thin curl of smoke rises into the air.

Someone is there.

A man. Standing perfectly still. One hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a cigarette. His silhouette is lean, tall, a little slouched—like he doesn’t belong in one place too long.

Who—?

I open the sliding door softly, stepping onto the balcony.

The moment I do—

He’s gone.

The cigarette’s still burning faintly on the railing.

That’s… unsettling.

Then—

A presence behind me.
The air shifts. Cold and sharp.

A voice.

Low. Calm. Unmistakably intense.

“Is he alright?”

I spin around.

Standing behind me is a man slightly taller than me—maybe early twenties, but something about him feels… ancient. His hair is loose. His shirt half unbuttoned under a black windbreaker. His eyes—

Yellow. Just like Alex when he is mad

Like a wolf in human skin.

“Y-Yeah…” I manage. “He’s resting. Thanks for your concern.”

“Would you like to… come inside?”

His expression doesn’t change. But there’s something in the air now—dangerous, restrained.

This must be him.

Soro.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts in—

“Is big brother alright?!”

A smaller figure bounds up behind him with a childish grin.

Maya.
Hana’s classmate.

“He’s fine,” I say with a soft smile.

Maya twirls once on her heel and throws her fists in the air.

“Yaay! I told you he’s strong! Just like you, big brother!”

Wait…

Big brother…?

This guy is—

“Nah,” Soro mutters, eyes half-lidded. “He’s sloppy.”

Maya’s smile drops instantly.

She pouts and stomps her foot.

“Hmph! Dumb big brother!!”

She storms back inside, muttering all the way.

I laugh softly under my breath. Then glance at him again.

He hasn’t moved.

Should I?

I gather my courage.

“Is it true… you trained Alex?”

His eyes flick toward me. The yellow in them glows faintly in the dim light. For a second—I forget how to breathe.

He exhales smoke slowly, then smiles.

Not warm.

Not cruel.

Just… knowing.

“Not quite. I wouldn’t call it training,” he says.
“Just making sure he’s prepared. That’s all.”

“Prepared for… what?”

He doesn’t answer.

I step closer. My voice cracks just a little.

“Please. I need to know…”

Soro pauses. Looks at the stars above.

Then finally—

“To tell you the truth…”
“You’re also at fault.”

I blink. “What—?”

His tone stays cool. Unemotional. But every word hits like a blade.

“That kind of commotion earlier? It could’ve ended with a single phone call. But instead… you threw yourself into chaos. Into violence.”

“Alex acted because of you.”

“Those ‘fancy moves’—as you called them—came at a cost. He bled for it.”

I feel like the breath’s been kicked out of me.

He’s not wrong. I knew it deep down… But still…

“You’re saying I should’ve done nothing?”

He looks at me again. Eyes sharp.

“I’m saying you don’t yet understand what you’re dealing with.”

“But you will.”

He flicks the cigarette off the edge of the balcony.

“You love him, don’t you?”

The question slices right through my ribs.

I don’t answer.

But he smiles, reading my silence.

“Then be ready, Sylvia. Because loving him means carrying the weight he refuses to show you.”

Soro turns away from me.

The shadows of the hallway stretch around his figure like a silhouette etched in moonlight.

He starts walking down the stairs—slow, unhurried, like the world doesn’t matter to him.

And I can’t hold it in anymore.

“Could you…”
“Could you stop Alex… from becoming… a soldier?”

My voice trembles. Not because I’m weak—but because deep down…
I already know the answer.

Soro pauses mid-step.
His back still turned.

Then—without even looking at me—

He raises his hand.

Middle finger.

“Like I care,” he mutters, his voice as cold as the steel he probably hides in his coat.
“He’s the one who wanted it.”

He doesn’t explain.

He doesn’t apologize.

He walks down the stairs and out the door—like a ghost that only lingers when war is near.

The door clicks shut.

And I’m left standing on the landing, fists clenched, heart pounding, teeth gritted.

Behind me, I hear soft footsteps—Maya, cheerful again, skipping toward Alex’s room with Hana, Steward, and the others trailing behind her.

But I don’t move.

I just stare at the door.

You’re wrong, Soro.

He didn’t want this. He chose this because someone made him feel like he had to.

The air feels heavier now.

Colder.

And deep inside, something tells me—

There’s more to this family than anyone’s telling me.
Something buried.
Something connected to Soro… to Alex… maybe even to me.

My sixth sense tingles. A chill races down my spine.

Something’s coming.

And when it does, Alex won’t be the only one changed by it…

To be continued