Chapter 30 : The Weight of Forgiveness and the silence between us (Part 3)

Day Two.

Alex still hasn’t woken up.

The morning light filters through the curtains in soft beams, washing over his still face. His lips are pale. His breathing faint, but steady.

I sit beside him, a cold towel in my hand, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. His skin feels warmer than usual. Not from fever… but something deeper. Something burning inside.

“……ummemm… stop it…..”

His voice—faint and broken—slips from his lips.

“Don’t…… leave…..leave me……alone……”

His fingers twitch. A tear trails down his cheek.

I freeze.

He's crying...?

I’ve seen Alex laugh. I’ve seen him fight. I’ve even seen him bleed.

But this?

This is the first time I’ve seen him truly vulnerable.

His body trembles beneath the sheets, locked in some nightmare. Something from a place none of us can reach.

What is he dreaming about?

Who is he seeing…? What is he reliving?

I gently take his hand in mine, squeezing it softly.

“Alex…”

My voice is barely a whisper.

I’m here. But I don’t know how to help you.

And that’s what hurts the most.

A knock taps lightly on the door.

I turn to see Mariam, her school bag slung over one shoulder, a hesitant smile on her lips.

“Hey… Sil. We need to go to school.”

I hesitate.

“Just five more minutes…”

Before Mariam can respond, Mom steps in, placing a hand gently on my shoulder.

“Get ready, dear. Let me stay with him.”

I look up at her. Her eyes are tired, but kind. There’s strength in her gaze—one I wish I had right now.

I nod.

As I rise from the bedside, Dad appears near the hallway, car keys in hand.

“I’ll send you girls to school today.”

But I shake my head.

“It’s okay… we’ll take the usual bus.”

He gives a faint nod, not arguing.

As I step toward the door, I hear small footsteps.

Hana.

She clutches her little bunny bag and steps carefully toward Alex’s bed.

She doesn’t say a word at first.

Then she places both hands on the mattress and leans in close.

“Big brother…”

Her voice cracks.

“Uu… don’t be like this…”

She sniffles. But doesn’t cry.

Instead, she gently places her small hand over his chest—right where his heart beats—and closes her eyes.

I feel my own throat tighten.

Everyone’s trying to stay strong.

But I can see it—in Mariam’s glance, in Dad’s silence, in Hana’s stillness...

We’re all just waiting for him to open his eyes.

The bus hums beneath us, swaying gently with each turn.

Not many students know what happened.

And for now… that’s how we want to keep it.

Mariam sits beside me, her fingers scrolling half-heartedly through her phone screen. She hasn’t said much since we left the house.

Then she leans closer, her voice low and careful.

“If anyone asks… just say Alex’s sick. Nothing serious. At least that’ll keep the rumors from spreading.”

I nod.

But in my chest—it burns.

Because every time someone smiles like nothing happened, I feel like screaming.

When we arrive at school, the usual morning chatter surrounds us—like the world hasn't shifted beneath our feet.

Then we spot her.

Priscilla.

Standing near the front gate, arms crossed, school bag slung like a soldier’s pack. Her long hair tied up messily, like she left in a hurry.

She spots us and immediately walks over.

“G’day, mates. Where’s Alex?”

Her voice is casual—too casual—but her eyes are searching. Worried.

How do I explain this…?

I take a breath, trying to sound normal.

“Are you okay, babe?”

She scratches her head and looks away.

“My dad chewed me out. Said I was reckless, told me off real bad.”

She looks back at me with a small smile.

“Then he thanked me. And thanked you. And Alex too.”

Mariam leans in close and whispers something into Priscilla’s ear. I can’t hear it—but I see the change in her expression. Her face stiffens. Jokes gone. She nods slowly.

Amin, who’s just arriving behind us, adds in a hushed voice:

“Just between us, alright? Keep it quiet.”

Priscilla nods again, biting her lip.

Then she flashes her usual cheeky grin—because she knows we need it.

“No worries. I’ll help nurse him back to shape, yeah? You’re not the only one who’s got his back, Sil.”

She winks.

I roll my eyes—half-annoyed, half-relieved.

Even now, she can still joke like that… and somehow, it helps.

As we walk through the front yard of the school, Mariam slows her pace.

Her eyes lock forward.

I follow her gaze.

Melissa is standing near the central stairs—arms folded, eyes sharp. Beside her—

Shinji.

His posture is awkward, stiff. His hands gripping the strap of his bag like a child awaiting punishment.

“So… I heard what happened,” Melissa says, her voice calm but cautious. “You good, cousin?”

I nod once.

“I’m fine. Just… make sure no one hears about it.”

Shinji bows deeply.

“K-Komenasai!! I’m sorry!!”

His voice echoes in the yard. Several students glance over.

I flinch.

I’m still not ready to forgive you.

But… I wonder what’s changed inside you.

Before I can speak, another figure joins the group—

Mr. Akira. Shinji’s father. His eyes kind, but tired.

He bows politely.

“I apologize for my son’s behavior. His insolence has embarrassed our family. But…”

He pauses, looking at us all.

“…I also thank you—for showing him the consequences.”

His gaze softens. “But… where is Alex-san?”

I can't speak.

The words won’t come out.

So Mariam steps in, her voice gentle.

“He’s sick. Just needs rest.”

Shinji’s eyes widen—his guilt bleeding through every expression.

He steps forward, bowing again, more deeply.

“Please… is it possible for me to see him? In person?”

Before I can answer—Mariam’s voice sharpens slightly.

“Sorry.”

She steps in front of me, firm but polite.

“Better to let him rest. He needs it more than anything right now.”

Shinji freezes. Then bows once more.

“Understood…”

He means it.

But that doesn’t erase what happened.

As we walk past, I glance back once.
Shinji stays frozen in place, head bowed.

And I wonder—

If even he doesn’t know how much blood was spilled to make that apology possible.

In my heart, I still can’t accept it.

Even with Mariam dragging me aside gently, even with the school day moving on like nothing happened—I’m stuck.

I stand there, frozen. My hand clutching the strap of my bag a little too tightly. My gaze drifts toward the empty school gate.

Alex...

Mariam clicks her tongue and grabs my arm again.

“This gloomy aura doesn’t suit you, Sil. Just walk it off. Go to class—scram!”

I force a weak smile and mutter, “Sorry…”

Her eyes narrow, and she jabs a finger at me, half-glare, half-sisterly threat.

“Oi!! Don’t you dare make me come after you again. Just keep it together, alright?!”

I bow quickly and back away, nodding.

Yes, Ma’am.

At the stairwell, Tama and Siti are already waiting.

Siti gives me a soft smile and waves. There’s no need for words—she knows.

“Hey, Sil. Don’t stress. We’re doing shifts now, okay?” She gives a wink and taps her temple. “You watched over Alex all night—my turn now.”

She says it casually, like we’re guarding a sleeping prince.

Which we kind of are.

“Fine… thanks,” I mumble.

But in my head?

There’s no way in hell I’m letting them hover around him alone.
Especially not Priscilla. God knows what that girl would do if she thinks I’m not watching…

We arrive at class.
As usual—laughter, idle chatter, chairs scraping, the hum of teenage noise.

But to me, it all feels muted.

Like I’m underwater.

I sit down, open my notebook. I try to focus. But every time I blink—I see Alex’s pale face. His tears. That quiet plea in his sleep: “Don’t leave me…”

I grip my pen harder.

Lunchtime.

I decide to skip the cafeteria. Too noisy. Too cheerful.

Instead, I head for the study lounge, hoping to steal a moment of silence.

That’s when I see them.

Three students. Their blazers crisp, posture sharp.

One girl and two boys, all from the Patriots class.

Here we go again…

The girl steps forward first, bowing slightly.

“Greetings, senior Sylvia.”

I blink. Formal. That’s new.

“I’m Leni. Class Leader of Patriot 1.”

She’s composed—but her fingers twitch nervously behind her back. The boys flanking her look tense too.

“We just wanted to say… we were surprised. Shinji bowed to the entire class today.”

Huh?

“He apologized. Out of nowhere. And now the former elites… they’re not happy. They said he’s 'weakening our image.'”

Of course. Because asking forgiveness is weakness to them.

I sigh.

“Sorry to hear that. But… what do you want from me?”

Leni hesitates.

“Could you help us? Mediate maybe? They won’t listen to us.”

What am I, a peace ambassador now?

Before I can even reply, another voice cuts in.

“What’s the situation?”

It’s Priscilla, appearing behind me like a sneaky wind gust.

She tosses her bag over her shoulder and gives Leni a curious look.

“You mentioned Shinji?”

Leni nods and quickly explains the class’s internal tension.

Priscilla raises an eyebrow. Then smirks.

“Right then. I’ll handle it. Been meaning to have a word with our little reformed junior. Let’s see if this apology’s the real deal, mate.”

She pats me on the back and walks off with the Patriot students like she’s commanding a squad.

I don’t stop her.

Honestly?

I can’t even think straight right now.

All I want is for this day to end... so I can get back home. Back to him.

In my mind...
Every tick of the clock is another second I’m not by Alex’s side.

And that, more than anything, is what's breaking me today.

Lunch is almost over.

The study lounge is finally quiet. I’ve almost convinced myself to close my eyes and rest for five minutes—

Until the door bursts open.

Davis skids in, out of breath, his face lit up like someone just hit the fire alarm.

“Yo, Sylvia! There’s a fight—like, a real one!”

I blink. “Again?”

“Yeah! The former elites—those arrogant punks—they're ganging up on Shinji! He’s getting wrecked!”

Behind him, Jackie groans and throws his arms in the air.

“Oi, wasn’t Priscilla-senpai handling that?! I thought she went with the Patriot reps!”

“She did! But outta nowhere, like—ten or fifteen of them just showed up from behind the storage buildings!”

“Hah?! Are we under siege?! What is this—‘Battle Royale: School Edition’!?”

Great. Just great.

I’m already on my feet when a loud chime rings through the entire school.

Then—Mariam’s voice comes through the PA system. Calm. Assertive. Slightly terrifying.

“To all students: Please return to your classrooms immediately.”
“Kindly avoid any unnecessary loitering at this time or—”

There’s a pause.

Then her voice drops an octave.

“—or else the Captain will have your head.”

A beat of silence follows.

Every student in the lounge:

😓

Davis gulps. “Uh... what kind of threat was that?!”

From the speaker—another voice suddenly blasts through the mic.

“OI!! MARIAM!!! WHO TOLD YOU TO CALL ME THAT OVER THE LOUDSPEAKER!?”

Everyone freezes.

“It’s Mr. Rahim again...”

Then the yelling continues—

“I’M NOT A PIRATE CAPTAIN, DAMN IT!! I’M A DISCIPLINARY OFFICER!!!”
“PUT SOME RESPECT IN THE TITLE—AND DON’T FORGET TO SAY ‘SIR’!!”

The mic clicks off.

All of us in unison:

“Yep. He’s definitely a pirate captain.” 😓

I sigh, rubbing my temples.

This school is cursed.

The bell chimes.

Class is about to begin.
But my feet won’t stay still.

I try. I sit. I stare at the clock.
But I can’t ignore it. That feeling gnawing at my ribs—

Something’s wrong. And it’s not just Shinji.

I stand up, grabbing my bag half-heartedly.

Kylie notices instantly from the next desk.

“Hey—Sil? Where are you going? Class’s about to start!”

I freeze, caught mid-step. Think fast.

“Uhh... toilet.”

I throw her a cheeky wink.

She narrows her eyes.

“Right… just don’t take forever. It’s Ms. Genevie’s class, remember? The other disciplinary dragon.”

I nod with a guilty grin.

Yeah. Ms. Genevie… Mr. Rahim’s academic twin from hell. Great.

I head down the corridor, but I’m not going to the toilet.
I make a sharp turn toward the back hallway that leads to the Patriot 1 wing.

That’s where it happened.

The air grows heavier with every step. I hear it before I even arrive—

Shouts. Furniture being pushed. Someone yelling. Another crying out in pain.

I round the corner—

And freeze.

It’s a full-blown brawl.

Not a scuffle.
Not some posturing between rival classes.

A straight-up war.

Amin, fists up, shielding Shinji, who’s on the ground—bloodied, but conscious.

Mariam, sleeves rolled, swinging a desk leg like a sword.

Michael, of all people, holding back three upperclassmen like a damn rugby wall.

And Priscilla—teeth gritted, hair flying, literally suplexing a guy twice her size into a row of lockers.

“What the hell is going on?!”

I shout—

But no one hears me.

Then I see her.

Her.

Among the chaos, laughing like it’s a game.

Long black hair tied in a messy bun, uniform disheveled but intentional.
Sharp eyes. Cold grin.

“No way…” I whisper.

Windy.

That bitch. She dropped out months ago. Said school was beneath her. Walked out like she was some queen. And now she’s back…?

Then—I see it.

Her hand.

Clutching something silver.

A knife—?!

And she’s lunging straight for Shinji—who's still trying to stand.

Amin’s too busy holding back two guys to notice.

Time slows.

No. Not today.

NOT. AGAIN.

I lunge forward.

“WINDY!!!”

She turns—just a moment too late.

My foot slams into her jaw with a bone-crunching crack.

She flies sideways, slamming into the concrete wall with a heavy thud.

The knife clatters to the floor.

Silence falls.
For a split second, everything stops.

My chest is heaving. My fists clenched. My heart racing.

I glare at her crumpled form.

“You dare bring a weapon… to my school?”

She groans, stunned.

But I don’t wait for her to answer.

I kneel beside Shinji, grabbing his shoulder.

He’s barely conscious. Bleeding from his lip. But he sees me.

His eyes widen. Shaking.

“S-Sylvia sempai…?”

“Stay still,” I whisper, trying to steady my voice.

“You’re safe now,” I say, gently brushing Shinji’s fringe out of his swollen eye.
“What happened?”

He winces as he tries to sit up, still trembling.

“When class was about to start… ugh… the girls from before, they started shouting…”
“They called me a traitor…”

His voice shakes. There’s shame there—deep, bitter shame.

I hold his shoulder firmly.

“You’ve got guts for surviving this long, junior.”

I smile down at him, trying to keep my voice light, even if inside I’m still burning.

“Well, at least you're alive. That’s something.”

The chaos around us finally dies down as footsteps echo through the corridor.

Mr. Rahim, storming in like a war general.
Ms. Genevie, arms crossed, radiating enough pressure to make half the school cry.
And behind them—Mr. Marcus, carrying an emergency medkit and looking ten years older than he should.

“Looks like the dust has settled,” Mr. Marcus mutters, surveying the battlefield of overturned desks and unconscious punks.

Then another voice cuts in—

“Shinji!?”

Mr. Akira bursts into the room, horror written across his face.

“What in heaven’s name—?!”

He drops to his knees beside his son. I rise to speak, but—

Mariam steps in, voice calm but firm.

“There was an outside intrusion. A former student.”

She signals toward a crumpled figure on the floor, now being pulled upright by two prefects.

Her uniform is in disarray, blood trickling from her lip, hair a mess from my earlier kick.

Windy.

I feel my blood start to boil.

“Windy,” I spit the name like venom. “Same batch as me. But way worse.”

She groans, her eyes fluttering open. When she sees me—

Her expression turns feral.

“What the fuck was that… Sylvia?! You Halim’s bitch now?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

I don’t even hesitate.

CRACK.
My foot slams into her side with a heavy thud, sending her sprawling again.

“Say that again. I dare you.”

She coughs, spits blood onto the floor.

Still grinning.

“Oh, and look—Priscilla’s here too. What is this, the Bitch Alliance? Cute.”

Mariam’s eye twitches. She clenches her fists so hard, I hear her knuckles pop.

“Someone get bleach. Her mouth’s growing mushrooms.”

All eyes are on us now. The teachers, the prefects, the students.

But I don’t care.

None of us do.

Because this girl?

She’s not just another delinquent.

She’s the one who tried to break me.

The one who betrayed me.

She’s the one who sold me off to Halim.

I kneel beside her, grabbing a handful of her shirt.

“Where have you been hiding all this time, Windy?”
“What hole did you crawl out of?”

She smirks through her bruises.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, princess.”

That’s when Mr. Rahim finally snaps.

“ENOUGH!!”

His voice thunders through the corridor.

“This isn’t a prison yard! I want everyone not bleeding or broken back in class. NOW.”

Windy groans as the prefects try to steady her on her feet. Her lip is swollen, hair hanging like a tangled mess. But even now—even now—that smug sneer still clings to her face.

She spits at my feet.

“You better watch it, Sylvia…”
“Or do I need to call Halim again?”

That name.

That name.

The room spins for a second.

And then stills.

I glance at the girls standing behind her—juniors from who-knows-what class. One is chewing her thumb nervously. The other avoids eye contact entirely.

“Wait…” I whisper. “You didn’t tell her?”

The juniors glance at each other.

Then they look away.

Windy’s smirk fades.

“What the hell’s going on…?”
“What did I miss?”

And that’s it.

Something snaps inside me.

My blood is pounding. My fists clench so tightly, I feel my nails bite my palm.

Alex still hasn’t woken up.
I almost got raped.
Alex saved me.
Soro called me a liability.
And now this walking trash bag has the nerve to act like the world’s still hers?

I step forward, eyes burning.

My voice rises—not from the throat—but from my gut. From every ounce of pain I’ve kept buried since that night.

“YOU SHOULD GO BACK TO SCHOOL—!!!”
“—IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE LEFT BEHIND!!!”

The walls shake.

Even Windy flinches.

For a moment, the entire hallway goes silent.

Then—

Ms. Genevie steps in, grabbing me from behind, her grip strong but calm.

“That’s enough. Both of you.”

Her voice is like iron wrapped in velvet.

Before I can say anything else, Mr. Marcus and two security guards step in.

He gestures toward Windy.

“Take her to the teachers' office. Now.”

Windy struggles, shouting something incoherent, but the guards don't hesitate.

She’s dragged out of the hallway like the garbage she is.

Mr. Rahim exhales with a long, tired sigh.
But there's a small smile on his lips.

“Fiery one, aren’t you? Just like our Alex…”

I blink, surprised.

He places a hand on my shoulder.

“All ends well… for now.”

Mr. Akira steps forward next, his expression a strange blend of guilt, relief, and gratitude.

He bows deeply.

“Thank you, Sylvia… for protecting my son.”

I pause—taken aback.

“It’s nothing,” I say quietly.

But inside, I’m screaming.

No… it’s not nothing.

It’s everything.

I walk out of the hallway, still a little breathless from earlier. The storm in me has passed, but the thunder’s still echoing faintly in my chest.

Just then, I hear the unmistakable clicking of heels.

Ms. Genevie.

Great.

She walks beside me, arms crossed, her usual icy elegance still very much intact—but her expression today feels softer than usual.

“Hmph. At least you kept that elegance in check.”
“But tell me, young lady... You’ve got a storm behind those eyes. What’s going on?”

I glance sideways, trying not to sound too emotional.

“Nothing, Miss… I just hate people like her.”

She raises an eyebrow, then smirks knowingly.

“People like Windy, you mean?”

I nod slightly. She lets out a light, classy scoff and pats her clipboard.

“Well, walk with me. Might as well make yourself useful and help me carry the materials.”

“Okay…” I manage a faint smile.

We walk side by side toward the teacher’s office.
The hallways are calmer now—quiet except for distant murmurs and chairs scraping.

“I’ve heard some rumors, you know,” she says out of nowhere, her tone lighter.

I glance at her.

“About Alex.”

I nearly trip over my own foot.

“W-What rumors?”

She snickers and gives me a wink.

“That someone’s been following him around a lot lately.”

“Ugh… ha… ha…” I laugh awkwardly, trying to play dumb.

“Oh please,” she chuckles, “I know that look.”

“You’re head over heels for that boy.”

“Umm…”

Oh my God. Am I being teased… by Ms. Genevie?!

Honestly, this is not what I expected from the teacher that Mariam warned me about. I thought Ms. Genevie was all steel and rules, not… this.

She pushes open the teachers’ room door, starts sorting through a stack of laminated grammar charts and attendance sheets. I help without thinking.

Then she speaks again, still casual.

“Let me give you a tip, Miss Micheal. Want your boy to fall harder for you?”

“Y-You’re giving me romance advice now?!”

She grins.

“Why not? I was young once, you know. Don’t let these heels fool you.”

As we head back toward the classroom, she continues:

“It’s good that you’re taking care of him while he’s sick.”

“We’re doing shifts,” I say softly. “Taking turns. Me, Siti, Priscilla…”

She halts. Her heels click sharply on the tile.

Then—

“HAHH?! No, no, NO!” she blurts, spinning toward me.
“Don’t give those other girls a CHANCE!! That’s your battlefield, girl!”

“W-What?!”

“Romance is WAR, dear! If you're not staking your claim, someone else will!”

I laugh—genuinely, for the first time today.

We walk side by side down the hallway, carrying the teaching materials. Ms. Genevie’s stack is heavier, of course, but she doesn’t let me take more than half.

Despite her polished, intimidating aura, she’s surprisingly... easy to talk to today.

“So, Alex is really sick, huh?”

She glances at me from the corner of her glasses.

“Mr. Rahim told me that Alex is like a machine. Never absent. Never tired. Always ready to brawl. Guess that makes him human after all?”

I try not to smile too much, but it sneaks through.

“Umm... yeah, he is human. Duh.”

Even if he’s the type who gets shot, bleeds out, and still shows up with a poker face.

We continue walking, her heels tapping rhythmically beside me.

Then i asks, casually:

“So… what’s going to happen to Windy?”

Ms Genevie pause slightly.

i notices.

“Well,” she says with a sigh, “we’ll check her background. If the police get involved and she’s deemed a risk, rehab is the likeliest route.”

“And if it is rehab, she’ll be placed under my care. Lucky me.”

She rolls her eyes, though she doesn’t sound entirely cold.

So even Ms. Genevie has a soft spot buried somewhere.

I pretend to look innocent—blinking slowly, folding my hands sweetly in front of me.

“Umm… I just hope she changes for the better…”

Pause.

I tilt my head and smile at her—

“But if not, is it okay if I make adjustments for her?”

Ms. Genevie stops walking.

Turns to me slowly.

Then—

She bursts into a giggle. The kind that’s rare, genuine, and completely out of character.

“Oh, sweetie. The only adjustments she’ll be making after the stunt you pulled…”

She raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“…is how to deal with bowel problems for a week.”

We both burst into laughter—like two villains gossiping over coffee.

As we step into the classroom, the noise volume triples.

George waves both arms at me from his seat like we’re in a soccer stadium.

“Hey, Sylvia! I heard you kicked someone into a wall! You really settled things, huh?!”

Before I can even respond, a wave of voices floods the room.

“Did you really fight Windy?”
“Did you dodge a knife??”
“Did you do, like, a flying kick?”
“Are you Alex’s bodyguard now??”

Ms. Genevie raises one perfectly manicured finger.

The room goes silent.

She smirks and points directly at me.

“Well? You heard the crowd, Sylvia Brittany Micheal. You’re famous now.”

I sigh, adjusting my blouse and calmly place the materials on her desk.

“I was just trying to go to the toilet, you know…”

The class bursts into laughter.

Maybe this school really is insane.

But… at least it feels like home.

After school ends, the halls are still buzzing with laughter and after-club chatter.

But my mind is somewhere else.

Far away from here.

Alex… are you awake yet? Are you still dreaming? Or are you… still fighting alone, even in your sleep?

I pack my things slowly. My fingers fumble with my books. I don’t even realize I’ve forgotten my pencil case until Siti jogs back to remind me.

“You good?” she asks.

I just nod.

Outside the school gates, I wait quietly.
Hana, Steward, and Tama are walking up from the primary block. Siti stays with me, her hand brushing mine as if she’s trying to ground me.

Students walk past and wave. I smile, but it’s automatic.

My eyes drift past them—toward the sky.

That same blue sky that Alex stared at the first day he returned from LA.

He looked so calm then… but now, he’s lying still in bed, body bruised, soul cracked.

And I wasn’t strong enough to stop any of it.

“Yo, daydreamer.”

A familiar voice pulls me back.

I turn.

Mariam

Her arm is linked with Amin, who’s munching on a convenience store bun like it’s the last meal on Earth.

“We’re heading to his house now,” Mariam says softly.
“We’ll stay with him tonight. Make sure everything’s under control.”

“Thanks…” I murmur.

But then—she smirks.

“Kukuku…”

Oh no.

“You’re just waiting out here because you wanna have him all to yourself, huh?”

“Wha—what?! N-No! That’s not—!” My face flushes red.

“Sorry, babe,” she teases, flicking her long braid over her shoulder. “But this nurse is on call tonight.”

Amin leans over, eyebrows wiggling.

“The competition’s heating up. Gotta say, Sylvia, you’re in deep.”

“I’m not competing, you psychos,” I mutter.

But I clutch my bag a little tighter.

Because the truth is…

I am worried.
I do want to be the one beside him.
Not out of rivalry. Not out of pride.
But because… it’s him.

Siti bumps her shoulder lightly against mine, then says with a grin:

“Don’t forget about me”

Then toward the road.

Alex… wait for me.

We hop onto the usual school bus, bouncing slightly on the seat as it pulls off.

Amin and Mariam wave goodbye before riding off on his bike, vanishing down the road toward our house.

The bus ride is quiet. Hana rests her head on Steward’s shoulder, while Tama looks out the window, earbuds in.

I sit alone, watching the clouds drift past the rooftops.

My chest tightens the closer we get to home. I wonder if today… maybe… he'll open his eyes.

When we finally reach the gate, I hop off—

And freeze.

Wait...

Parked just outside the house is a sleek, high-end motorcycle. Matte black, polished chrome. The kind of machine that doesn’t belong to just anyone.

My eyes narrow.

That model… it’s the same class as Alex’s.

Don’t tell me…

I run up the steps and swing open the door.

“We’re back—!”

Mother appears at the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

She smiles gently.

“Welcome home, Sylvia… We have a guest.”

“Huh? Guest?”

I glance toward the living room—but no one’s there.

Then I feel it.

That strange silence. The kind that pulls at your chest.

I move toward Alex’s room, heart pounding slightly.

When I step in, I stop.

Oh...

Priscilla is sitting beside Alex’s bed.

Her usual confidence is gone.
Her posture slumped slightly.
One of her hands gently wraps around Alex’s limp one.

Her eyes are red, lips pressed into a thin line.

And standing by the window, regal as always—

Lord Newman.

the poise of old nobility.

He turns as I enter, offering me a nod.

“Ah, Sylvia, my dear.”

His deep British-Malay lilt still sounds like it belongs in a drama from another century.

“I’ve had my personal physician look over Alexander Bin Imran. While the lad’s condition is stable, the doctor admits puzzlement at his prolonged unconsciousness. Your mother was kind enough to inform me of the… particulars.”

He glances down at Alex.

“For now, the physician will observe him further. No drastic measures—just patience.”

I bow politely.

“Thank you… Lord Newman. Truly.”

It’s good news. But it still doesn’t change the fact he’s lying there… unmoving.

I glance toward Priscilla.

She doesn’t look at me.
Just continues staring at Alex.

Her lips part, voice soft.

“Victoria told me everything.”

She finally looks up at me.

“She said she feels responsible. That if she hadn’t been so reckless… maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Her gaze drops again to Alex’s hand.

“But… you were the one he saved, weren’t you?”

I swallow hard.

There’s no anger in her voice. No accusation.

Just... sadness. And confusion.

A shared grief.

I should feel defensive.
I should say something. Explain how I didn’t ask to be saved. That I tried to fight.
But all I can do is lower my eyes and nod.

“Yeah… he did.”

Lord Newman said to me "Sylvia, my dear, I'm relieved you're unharmed. I've spoken with the authorities, and Mr. Habeeb is looking into the matter. However, I suspect this affair may become rather... intricate. We'll need to keep a level head, don't you think?"

All of this… all of it…

Even Soro’s harsh words echo in my mind.

“This wouldn’t have happened… if you hadn’t been reckless.”

I want to scream back at him. Tell him he’s wrong.
But I can’t.
Because deep down… I know a part of it is true.

The door creaks open.
Mr. Habeeb steps in, his eyes tired, uniform still creased from hours in the field.

“We’re currently tracking down the suspect,” he announces quietly.
“But it seems they’ve escaped. No trace so far.”

The room tenses.

The mysterious figure that knocked me down like I was nothing…

Who the hell are they?

Mr. Habeeb continues.

“Ms. Victoria was a witness. She’s already explained what she saw.”

I glance toward Priscilla.

She’s sitting beside Alex, staring at the floor.

Her fists are clenched, her voice barely a whisper.

“Pris…”

Suddenly—she lowers her head and leans closer to Alex, voice trembling.

“Hey, Alex… it’s me… Priscilla.”
“Just open your eyes, love. I’m here for you.”

My breath catches.

I’ve never seen her like this. Not loud. Not cheeky.
But… fragile.

I sit down beside her.

Alex lies in front of us, still and pale, his chest rising slowly under the blanket. Wires and monitors surround him like vines.

“Sil…” Priscilla murmurs. “I’m still in shock this happened. Again. I don’t even know what to say, mate.”

I nod, swallowing hard.

“I know.”

What else can I say?
We both blame ourselves.
We both want him to wake up.

We both love him.

Then—tiny footsteps patter behind us.

“Big Sis Sil… Big Sis Pris…”

Hana.

Her eyes are glassy, her little fists trembling.

“Big brother’s just sleeping, right? He’s just… really tired?”

I kneel down and rest my hand gently on her shoulder.

“Yeah…” I whisper.
“He’s just resting. He’s been through a lot, that’s all.”

Priscilla reaches out, smiling softly.

“Don’t worry, Han. He’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“He’s a legend, mate. Legends don’t stay down long.”

Hana smiles. But tears spill from the corners of her eyes anyway.

She’s trying so hard… to be brave.

A little coo echoes from the hallway.

Baby Sam, wobbly in his little onesie, toddles in and lifts his arms toward me.

“You wanna see big brother?”

He nods, lips puckered into a soft whimper.

I lift him up gently, and he snuggles into my chest, eyes fixed on Alex.

Then, slowly—he reaches out.

Crawling over the bed covers, he lies down right beside Alex, curling into him.

Cuddling.

Like he always does when Alex reads him bedtime stories.

The room goes quiet.

Even the beeping of the heart monitor feels slower, calmer.

A moment of stillness.
A moment that aches.

Please…
Just open your eyes.
We’re all waiting.

The air in the room still hangs heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Alex remains unconscious, his breathing steady—but shallow. Priscilla hasn’t moved from his side, and I don’t think I’ve blinked since Sam curled against his brother.

Then—

Mariam steps forward, her usual confident smile replaced by a more serious expression.

Amin is right behind her, carrying something in his hand.

“We’ve decided to stay here… until Alex wakes up,” Mariam says calmly.

“In the meantime—babe,” she nods at Amin.

Amin pulls something from his jacket pocket.

A photograph.

Worn. Black and white.

He hands it to Mr. Habeeb, who accepts it without a word.

“What’s this?” the man asks, brow furrowed.

Amin crosses his arms.

“It’s something Alex mentioned right before he collapsed. Said he saw something that didn’t make sense. This… might be connected.”

We all lean in a little, our curiosity rising.

Mr. Habeeb lifts the photo toward the light.

His eyes widen.

“This is…”

Mariam answers before he can finish.

“Yep. Just like her.”

Her? Who is she talking about?

Even I don’t recognize the person in the photo… but when Priscilla glances at it, her reaction is instant.

She stiffens.

Eyes narrow.

Her voice cuts through the air like a blade, tinged with warning.

“Yeah… that’s the bloody piece of work who laid Sil and me out cold.”
“I’m tellin’ ya—she’s not someone you muck about with, mate.”

My heart sinks a little.
So it wasn’t just me. Even Pris couldn’t stand a chance.

Lord Newman takes a long breath, his face unreadable.

“This incident isn’t a coincidence,” he says finally, voice grave.
“And if what we suspect is true, then this threat isn’t isolated to Alex alone.”

He turns to Mr. Habeeb.

“I’ll be arranging a full report for Mr. Rahman. The student body deserves to know they’re safe.”

Mr. Habeeb nods, but there’s a weight behind his eyes.

“A good idea, Lord Newman.”

Then, his tone hardens slightly.

“However… there’s one thing I’ve also heard.”

He slides the photo back into its envelope.

“Apparently, a boy from your school is suspected of involvement. One of the ones who vanished during the chaos.”

Lord Newman doesn’t flinch.

But his pause is telling.

“I’m still conducting my own investigation. There’s too much at stake to make a premature judgment.”

Too much at stake…?

Mariam exchanges a glance with me.

What’s going on behind the scenes that even Lord Newman is cautious about?

And through it all…

Alex remains silent.

But somehow, it feels like this mystery has only just begun.

Right now, I don’t care about suspects.
I don’t care about who that mysterious girl is.
All I care about…
Is Alex opening his eyes again.

Just once.

Even a blink would be enough.

We all stay until the sky turns orange, then lavender—until the faint sounds of cicadas replace the noise of students.

It’s nearly dinner.

Mother steps out of Alex’s room and waves at me gently, her apron already on.

“Sylvia, dear—can you help me with dinner? We’ve got quite the crowd tonight.”

Father pokes his head in from the hallway.

“With this many guests, you might as well prep breakfast while you’re at it.”

“Seriously?” I sigh, tying my apron.
“Did we open a hostel without telling me?”

The kitchen comes alive with the sounds of pots clanging, knives chopping, and the hum of the rice cooker kicking in.

Siti is slicing vegetables at lightning speed like she’s in a cooking anime.
Tama, quiet as ever, is washing the rice with such precision it feels ceremonial.
I handle the stove — simmering soup, stirring sambal, checking seasoning.

It’s almost normal.
Almost peaceful.

Then—

Mariam slips in quietly, hands behind her back, a half-smile on her face.

She leans toward me while the others are distracted.

“Hey, Sil…”

“Yeah?”

She glances over her shoulder, then lowers her voice to a whisper.

“Is that what you said about his nightmares?”

My hands stop moving.

“Did he… talk in his sleep again?”

Mariam nods slowly, her expression serious.

“Nothing too clear. Just kept mumbling stuff like… ‘Don’t leave me…’ or ‘Leave me alone…’ back and forth.”

My heart clenches.

“Yeah. When I first started living here… after Steward came with me, I noticed it.”
“Alex always has these strange dreams. Sometimes he talks. Sometimes… he cries.”

Mariam folds her arms, eyes soft.

“It’s like there’s a war going on inside him.”

“Please don’t tell the others,” I whisper.
“He’d hate it if everyone knew.”

She nods.

“Of course. Let’s just leave it between us.”

Then—like a bolt of lightning—

Siti turns from the cutting board, knife in hand like a weapon.

“Oi! You two done gossiping or what?! Some of us are actually cooking, you know!”

I jolt back to life.

“Ah—right! Sorry!”

Mariam fumbles for the chopping board.

“Haha—yep! Coming, Chef Siti!”

The air is filled with laughter for a moment.

It feels… good.
It feels human.

Even as Alex sleeps in silence down the hallway…
This house still breathes.

Still fights.

Still loves.

Dinner is lively.

The clatter of plates, soft laughter, and the smell of warm soup fill the room. Even Lord Newman is seated comfortably beside Father, sipping tea like royalty on holiday.

But Priscilla?

Still in Alex’s room.

Lord Newman glances toward the hallway and sighs.

“Looks like my little princess has no appetite tonight… I’ll leave her be. She’s always had a flair for dramatics.”

Mother turns to me with that worried look only a mother can master.

“Sylvia, dear… go call her. She hasn’t eaten a thing. I don’t want her falling ill.”

I nod, already rising.

I head down the corridor, each step heavier than the last.

When I peek into the room, there she is—kneeling beside Alex, eyes cast low, holding his hand like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

She speaks without looking up.

“To be fair, Sil… Alex has always been a wild card.”
“But taking my boat without asking? That was pushing it—even for him.”
“Like a bloody James Bond, he is…”

I twitch.

Oh? So now we’re bringing up history?

“Uh huh… I heard that story too,” I reply, arms crossed.
“So what, you here for a fight?”

She finally glances at me, smirking.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sil. Alex and I have history, mate.”

Tch… this bitch…

I take a breath—but my mouth moves faster than my brain.

“Maybe you should look in the mirror then, you absolute cow.”

Her smirk vanishes.

She stands, slowly.

We lock eyes.

She’s 5’9"—tall, toned, athletic.
I’m 5’4". Not exactly petite, but… average.

Still—I’m not backing down.

She exhales, arms tensing at her sides.

“Had a gutful of you, have ya? Well, you’re not exactly queen bee, Sil.”

My eye twitches.

That’s it.

I untie my apron and toss it aside.

“Outside. Now.”

We march out back—past the garden, past the shed—to the space behind the house where Alex trains.

Even in the moonlight, I can see it—scratches in the wood, footprints in the dirt.

The tree stump he used as a makeshift punching dummy still bears the dents of his knuckles.

Priscilla runs a hand over the worn bark.

“Looks like Alex was gearing up for a proper scrap, huh.”
“Think he’s got what it takes to survive what’s coming?”

I don’t answer. I’m stretching, warming up.

My body’s already humming with adrenaline.

This isn’t just about Alex anymore.

It’s about proving I’m not someone who gets left behind.

To be continued