𖥻﹕𝖥𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖮𝗇𝖾𝗌﹒ຯ - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Protection and Realization
...Year 2017.
Afreen, 13 years old.
Fahmid, 16 years old.
The school bell rang, signaling the start of lunch break. Students poured into the corridors, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. Fahmid stood near his locker, chatting with a few friends when he noticed everyone from Afreen's got out except her. He frowned; it was unusual for her. As she was a big foodie and always the first one to come out of her class whenever it was lunchtime. He excused himself from his friends and went to look out for her.
Meanwhile, Afreen sat frozen in her seat, her face burning with embarrassment as she realized what had happened. A deep red stain had bloomed on the back of her uniform, and she felt a wave of panic rise in her chest. Her hands gripped the edges of her desk, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps. What was she supposed to do at that peak moment? The thought of getting up and walking through the crowded hallway made her stomach twist with dread.
At that moment, it seemed that the Almighty had mercy on her as Fahmid walked in the class. Her face lightened up seeing her Lion-ie. She had always relied on Fahmid whenever she faced a problem. But at that time, as she tried to approach him with her problem, hesitation gnawed at her. Would he think differently of her? Would he be embarrassed by her situation? No-she could not ask him for help. It was different.
But Fahmid noticed everything about her. It was second nature to him. He had spent years memorizing her moods, her habits, and the subtle shifts in her expressions. So when he saw her sitting unusually stiff, her hands clenched, her eyes darting around nervously, he knew something was wrong.
Afreen nearly jumped when she heard his voice, low and gentle beside her. "Angel, what's wrong?"
She shook her head quickly, forcing a small smile. "Nothing."
Fahmid was not convinced. His gaze flickered downward as he noticed her actions from top to toe, and in that instant, he understood. He did not react with shock or awkwardness. Instead, a quiet understanding settled in his features. His mother, Sabrina, had always taught him about periods, explaining how natural they were. And he had watched his father care for his mother during her difficult days, never once making her feel ashamed or burdened. Fahmid had learned from them-how to be kind, how to be there without making someone feel small.
He could feel Afreen's anxiety as it was her first period. Thus, he handled it with utter delicacy and care. Without a word, he shrugged off his shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt beneath, and leaned forward, draping the shirt over her lap in an effortless motion. "Tie it around your waist," he murmured, his tone so casual that it eased some of her anxiety.
Afreen hesitated, her throat tightening. "You don't have to-"
"Shut up and do it," he cut in softly, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Let's get out of here."
She obeyed, her fingers trembling as she tied the shirt around herself. Fahmid stood, blocking her from view as she carefully got up. His presence beside her felt like a shield, unwavering and solid. He guided her out of the classroom, maneuvering through the hallway without drawing attention to them.
When they reached the nurse's office, he knocked lightly before stepping back. "Go in. I'll wait here."
Afreen looked at him, something warm and unfamiliar twisting inside her. He was not embarrassed. He was not avoiding her or acting differently. He was just... Fahmid. The same Fahmid who had always been by her side. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Lionie."
He tilted his head, his expression teasing. "You're my best friend, Angel. You really thought I wouldn't have your back?"
A soft laugh escaped her lips, the tension inside her melting away. And in that moment, as she stepped inside the nurse's office, Fahmid made a silent vow of always shielding her and caring for her, no matter what it cost.
As she was in the infirmary, he took permission and got an early leave for both Afreen and himself. Afreen got out; she was still looking down, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. Her face was a mix of embarrassment and exhaustion. Fahmid exhaled and ran a hand through his hair before stepping in front of her.
"Hey," he said softly, tilting his head to catch her eyes. "Relax, my Bunny. Everything is alright. There is nothing to be ashamed of or get awkward about. It's completely natural. It just means you are growing up perfectly fine. It's nothing to feel embarrassed about. Alright? Let's go home and get you cleaned up, yeah?"
She sniffled and nodded, her cuteness making his heart ache with adoration. He gave her a piggyback ride on the way back home. Once they reached home, he asked her mother to take care of her and to help her out with the things since it was her first time. Yasmin looked at him appreciatively and nodded, taking Afreen inside and thanking him for helping her.
Fahmid glanced at Afreen one last time as her mother took her inside, and then he left her house only to return again in an hour or so. He was holding a bag that contained a pack of sanitary pads, various types of chocolates, a packet of warm herbal tea, a heating pad, and her favorite cotton candy. He handed it to her mother, who looked inside the bag and then at him with a smile, "Thank you, son. But you didn't hav-"
"No, I had to. My angel is growing up, and I want to be there for her as much as possible. So, accept these and let me know if anything else is needed." He insisted with a reassuring smile. His eyes were roaming around the house in search of her.
Yasmin, noticing his action, could not help but inform, "She is sleeping after getting a shower. Don't worry, Mister Lion-ie, your Bunny is getting proper care." She chuckled at his antics. He let out a small smile, and greeting Salam, he left for his house.
However, the whole night he was concerned and tossed around in his bed thinking about her and her well-being. At a point, his body gave up, and he fell asleep with his mind full of her thoughts.
...Year 2019.
Afreen, 15 years old.
Fahmid, 18 years old.
The hallway buzzed with life, students weaving through the corridors, their laughter and chatter merging into an indistinct hum. The scent of old books and faint traces of chalk hung in the air. Amid the shifting bodies, Fahmid moved with his usual ease, hands tucked into his pockets, mind elsewhere-until a name cut through the noise, freezing him in place.
Afreen.
His steps slowed, heartbeat steady but somehow heavier. It was her name, but the tone it carried sent an uneasy prickle down his spine. He turned slightly, angling his head just enough to catch sight of a group of boys loitering near the lockers. Their expressions were amused, cocky.
One of them, the ringleader by the looks of it, smirked as he leaned against the metal. "She acts all tough, but we all know why she's like that."
Fahmid's jaw tensed.
"She thinks she's too good for anyone," another scoffed. "Bet she's just waiting for some rich guy to sweep her off her feet."
"Maybe she needs to be put in her place," the third added, his grin sharp and cruel.
A slow, simmering heat spread through Fahmid's chest, coiling tighter with each passing second. He felt it creeping up his throat, settling in his bones-the undeniable urge to do something. His fingers curled into fists inside his pockets.
Then he moved. "What did you just say?"
The group stilled. The first boy-the loudest one-straightened, his confidence wavering for a fraction of a second before he scoffed. "Relax, man. We were just joking."
Fahmid stepped closer, his gaze dark and unwavering. "Say it again," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Let's see if it's still funny."
The boy hesitated, but another one, trying to act unfazed, chuckled. "Chill, dude. Why are you so worked up? Or-" His smirk widened. "You got a thing for Afreen?"
The air around Fahmid shifted. A realization sparked in the back of his mind, sudden and disorienting. The way his stomach clenched at the mention of her name, the way his blood simmered at their words-it was not just anger. It was something deeper. Something he had not dared to acknowledge until then.
He never allowed himself to think about it too much, the way his eyes sought her in a crowded room, the way his day felt incomplete if he did not see her at least once. The way his heart beat differently when she smiled.
He never admitted it, not even to himself. But at that moment, standing there, hearing them speak about her like that, he knew. And he did not have time to process it before his fist moved on its own.
A sharp crack echoed through the hallway as his knuckles met the boy's jaw. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. The boy staggered back, clutching his face, eyes wide with shock.
Another lunged at him, but Fahmid was faster. He grabbed the guy's collar, slamming him against the lockers, the cold metal rattling with the force.
"You think you can talk about her however you want?" His voice was low, deadly. His grip tightened. "You think she's a joke?"
The boy's breath hitched, his bravado crumbling. He struggled against Fahmid's hold, but Fahmid did not loosen his grip.
"Try it again," he muttered. "I dare you."
By then, a crowd had gathered. The buzz of whispers surrounded them, but Fahmid's world had narrowed to the boy in his grasp-the anger pounding in his veins, the unspoken emotions twisting inside him.
Teachers rushed in, pulling them apart, their voices sharp and urgent. Minutes later, he found himself in the principal's office, the anger in his chest still burning, though his expression remained impassive.
His father, Hamza, sat beside him, face tight with disappointment. Across from them, the parents of the boys glared, their expressions filled with outrage.
"This is completely unacceptable!" one of the mothers snapped. "Our sons were attacked! He should be punished for this."
The principal sighed, rubbing his temples. "I expected better from you, Fahmid. You're a bright student, a topper. Fighting like this-it's beneath you."
Hamza turned to him, exasperation evident in his tone. "What were you thinking?!"
Fahmid met his father's gaze, unwavering. "I was thinking that if they mess with Afreen-if they so much as talk about her like that again-I'll do it again." His voice was calm, steady, and resolute. "And again. As many times as it takes."
Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. His father exhaled sharply, shaking his head. The other parents fumed. The principal looked torn between frustration and something else. But Fahmid? He simply did not care. Not about the punishment. Not about the consequences. That was because somewhere between the anger, the protectiveness, and the sharp sting of their words-he realized something. Afreen had always been more than just his best friend.
The thought unsettled him. He had never questioned why he stood by her side so fiercely. It had always been natural, instinctive. But then, as he sat in the suffocating silence of the principal's office, his bruised knuckles resting on his lap, his thoughts spiraled. Would she be mad at him? Would she think he was being reckless? Would she care?
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Fahmid walked through the empty corridors of the school, his mind still restless. The sky outside was streaked with hues of orange and crimson-colors that reminded him of Afreen, of her fire, her strength, and the quiet vulnerability and innocence she hid beneath her tough exterior.
He thought of the way she scrunched her nose when she was annoyed, the way she always had a sarcastic remark ready, the way she had always, always been there. And for the first time, he allowed himself to ask the question he had been avoiding. Was it just friendship? Or had it always been something more?
Just then, he heard soft footsteps approaching. He turned, and there she was. Afreen. Her usually confident and playful eyes held something softer-concern. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.
Fahmid blinked, momentarily stunned. He had expected her to scold him, to call him reckless. But instead, she was worried about him. Warmth spread through his chest. He had fought because of her, without expecting anything in return. Yet, here she was, proving once again why he would do it all over again. He managed a small smirk. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"
She frowned. "You didn't have to fight, Lion-ie."
His heart clenched at the way she said it, as if she blamed herself. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I did. And I'd do it again."
Afreen held his gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers lightly grazing the bruises on his knuckles. Something shifted inside him. A realization.
He had always protected her because it was natural-because he cared. But at that time, standing there, feeling her touch, seeing the worry in her eyes, he understood.
It was more than just friendship. More than just a promise. He was falling for her. And no matter what, he vowed again in his heart-he would always protect her. Even if it cost him everything.
Upon reaching home, Hamza scolded him, his voice filled with frustration. "You should have handled the situation with a better approach, Fahmid! Violence is never the answer."
His father's words stung, but before Fahmid could respond, Afreen stepped forward, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You shouldn't shout at my best friend-my Lion-ie-like that!" She huffed, crossing her arms. "He did what was right!"
Hamza blinked in surprise, taken aback by her fierceness. But before he could say another word, Afreen grabbed Fahmid's wrist and tugged him along. "Come on, we're going to my place. You need proper care."
Fahmid let her pull him away, a quiet amusement flickering in his chest. She was always like that-bold, unyielding, fiercely protective of those she cared about.
At her house, she sat him down and carefully tended to his bruised knuckles, her touch gentle yet firm. As she dabbed at his wounds, he studied her-really studied her. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way she pursed her lips whenever he winced, the warmth in her eyes that she tried not to mask at all. He felt something tighten in his chest. She did not just care for him as a friend, did she? She kept rebuking him lightly for being so reckless for her.
As she finished wrapping his hand, she shoved a plate of food in front of him. "Eat. You need energy if you're going to keep throwing punches for me."
Fahmid chuckled, shaking his head. "Bossy as ever."
"And don't you forget it," Afreen shot back, but there was a softness in her tone.
That night, as Fahmid lay on the couch in her living room, staring at the ceiling, he let himself acknowledge the truth. He was falling for Afreen. And maybe... just maybe, he had been all along. "I love her, more than a friend..." He, at last, admitted the truth and let out a smile, like a fool. A fool in love.