LOGINI couldn’t bring myself to attend my lectures after everything that had transpired between Raihan and me earlier that morning.
The moment his parents departed, an oppressive silence engulfed the apartment, making the atmosphere feel inexplicably heavier. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, I found myself growing increasingly apprehensive in Raihan’s presence. “Are you still dwelling on what my father said?” Raihan asked, his perceptive gaze fixed intently on me. “I’m certain he was merely having a bit of fun with you.” “It’s fine,” I replied, forcing a faint smile. “I’m not bothered.” I lied to him because in reality every word his father had uttered echoed in my mind. The probing questions. The unmistakable look of recognition. The unsettling invitation. The more I reflected on it,the stronger my intuition became that Raihan’s father knew far more than me……..and my family . My thoughts wandered back to the peculiar name Raihan's mother had mentioned. "Liam..." The name reverberated in my mind, refusing to leave. "Who's Liam?" I murmured absent-mindedly, only realising I'd spoken aloud after the words had already escaped my lips. He abruptly turned on his heel, his eyes locking onto mine. Judging by the shift in his expression, he had evidently overheard what I’d just said. “L-Liam?” he echoed, his voice betraying an uncharacteristic tremor. He swallowed hard before forcing the words out. “H-He’s… j-just a f-friend of mine,” he stammered, the hesitation in his voice impossible to disguise. It wasn’t really my place to pry. “Am sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your privacy. After all, we were nothing more than roommates… and occasional fuckmates. There was no exclusivity between us,no obligations,no promises and certainly no claim over one another—nothing that justified my curiosity. Bang. Bang. Bang. Three firm knocks resonated through the apartment, shattering the uneasy silence. I instinctively lifted my head, my brows knitting together. Who on earth could that be now? I wondered. Without uttering a word, Raihan pushed himself to his feet and strode purposefully towards the door, responding to the persistent knocking. It wasn't long before three familiar figures came into view—Drey, Noah, and Ethan. My eyes instinctively widened, and my lips parted in sheer astonishment. "W-What the...?" I breathed, utterly dumbfounded by their unexpected appearance. "Well, well... if it isn't the handsome one himself," Drey drawled with a roguish grin the moment his gaze settled on me. "So, what's going on with you, my man?" he teased, amusement evident in his voice. I motioned for them to make themselves comfortable while I headed to the kitchen to bring back something well-chilled to help them relax. "I was looking forward to seeing your hot face today," Drey said with a playful smirk. "You promised you'd be on campus to welcome me, but you never showed up." "I'm so sorry," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "I woke up with a terrible migraine this morning, so I couldn't make it," I lied. A faint smile tugged at my lips. "I'll make it up to you—I promise." "I was genuinely concerned about you," Drey admitted. "I practically twisted Noah's and Ethan's arms to get them to come with me." He flashed me a grin. "I figured it was better to see things with my own eyes than sit around wondering if you were alright." "I happened to catch sight of Raihan not too long ago," Noah remarked, his inquisitive gaze lingering on me. "So... have the two of you finally buried the hatchet?" He cocked an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I mean, the last time I checked, you could barely stand the sight of each other. You'd rather be anywhere else than under the same roof." "N-No..." I stammered, momentarily thrown off by the question. "W-We haven't exactly buried the hatchet." I forced a nonchalant smile, praying it looked convincing. "Raihan simply wasn't in the mood to come out," I improvised smoothly, hoping they wouldn't read between the lines or catch wind of what had truly transpired between us. "Drey, your cheeks seem to have taken on quite a rosy hue," Ethan remarked, unable to suppress an amused grin. "What? No... that's impossible," I laughed nervously, attempting to mask the obvious lie. "Oi, lads," Drey cut in, shooting Noah and Ethan a pointed look. "Give the poor bloke a break." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're going to scare him off at this rate. He's probably just a bit flustered because we turned up out of the blue." He flashed me a subtle wink before turning back to them. "Quit pulling his leg." Without so much as batting an eyelid, Drey covered for me, helping me keep the whole thing under wraps. "Lucas, there's something rather important I've been meaning to get off my chest," Drey said, his usual grin giving way to an unexpectedly solemn expression. "But I'd much rather tell you when we've got a moment to ourselves," he added, lowering his voice. Ethan let out a knowing chuckle, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh? Why not say it now?" he drawled. "Don't leave us on tenterhooks." A wicked grin spread across his face. "Or is this one of those conversations we're not meant to be privy to?" Noah laughed under his breath. "Come on, mate. You can't dangle the carrot and expect us not to bite." Ethan nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You've opened a can of worms now—there's no putting the lid back on." Drey leveled them with a razor-sharp, unyielding stare, the sort that could silence a room without a single word being spoken. One look was all it took for them to realise Drey wasn’t bluffing, and g wciselbbsnsbsnsbbsbsbvsnsy decided to let sleeping dogs lie rather than stir the hornet’s nest. “Oh, damn—I almost forgot the whole reason I came here,” Drey said, slapping his forehead. “I asked Ethan to forward the project brief to your email. Check your inbox when you get a chance.” Lucas knitted his brows. “Project?” “Yeah. We’ve got a semester-long assignment on our hands,” Drey replied. “Professor Evans assigned us a documentary project.” I leaned back on the chair. “What kind of documentary?” “We’ll be working in pairs throughout the semester. We have to choose a social issue, conduct research, travel across London to film interviews, edit the footage into a professional documentary, and present it at the end of the term, Drey continued. "You're in for a treat," Drey said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I guarantee it'll be one of the most unforgettable experiences you'll have while you're here." "I can only hope so," I murmured, my voice laced with cautious optimism. “Well, we’d better hit the road,” Drey said, rising gracefully from the couch. He straightened his jacket before flashing me an easy, roguish grin. “And don’t even think about skipping class tomorrow.” As he made his way towards the door, he glanced back over his shoulder with a playful grin. “Bye, cutie.” The front door clicked shut behind them, and the apartment became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The moment they left, I sluggishly made my way back to the bedroom to have a rest. The instant I unlocked the door— THUD! Raihan lurched forward and crashed unceremoniously onto the floor.Lucas..**Morning**The alarm went off at the usual time, which meant Raihan groaned into the pillow and I reached over him to shut it up.“Why is it always louder on days we actually need to get up?” he muttered.“It’s the same volume every day.”“Then every day is a crime.”I sat up slowly, testing my ribs out of habit. The sharp edge of pain had dulled into something more manageable. Across the small hostel room, Raihan’s bed was a mess of blankets, one of my hoodies half-buried in them from the night before. Living in the same room had stopped feeling temporary weeks ago. His charger was permanently tangled with mine on the desk. My notes had started appearing on his side of the shelf. Someone — probably Ana — had already started calling it “their room” without thinking about it.Raihan eventually dragged himself upright, hair flattened on one side.“Lecture first or coffee first?”“Coffee,” I said. “If I try to learn anything on an empty brain I’ll start agreeing with Noah.”“Dan
LUCAS.. Mr. King came the next evening. He didn’t call ahead. He simply appeared at the hostel door with a dark leather bag in his good hand and the same carefully controlled expression he always wore when something important was about to happen. Raihan let him in. I stayed seated on the edge of the bed, already knowing what the bag contained. “I thought it was better if I brought these myself,” Mr. King said. He set the bag down on the desk. “The police have the original documents from the box. These are the personal things. They belong to you.” He didn’t linger. After a short look at both of us, he left again, the door closing softly behind him. For a while neither of us moved. Raihan sat down beside me. “You don’t have to open it right now.” “I do,” I said. My hands were steadier than I expected when I unzipped the bag. Inside, everything was carefully packed. A watch with a worn leather strap. A small stack of photographs bound with a faded ribbon. A leather journal
LUCAS…The door finally clicked shut behind the last of them.Ana’s voice still echoed faintly down the hallway, mixed with Ava’s laughter and Ethan’s exaggerated complaints about who had burned the eggs. Then the sound faded, and the hostel room settled into a thick, sudden quiet. The plates were stacked in the sink. The cards were scattered across the bed. The air still smelled faintly of oil and seasoning.Raihan stood near the desk, shoulders slightly hunched, bandaged wrists resting loosely at his sides. The afternoon light coming through the thin curtains caught the edge of the tape on his cheek. He looked exhausted. He also looked like he had been holding himself together for too many hours in a row.I locked the door.When I turned back, he was already watching me.Neither of us spoke at first. The silence stretched, heavy with everything we hadn't been able to say while other people were in the room. Then Raihan pushed away from the desk and crossed the small space between u
LUCAS They discharged the next morning.Mr. King’s shoulder was secured in a proper sling, the wound cleaned and stitched. Raihan’s wrists were freshly bandaged, the cut on his cheek closed with a small strip of tape. My own ribs were wrapped tightly, and the swelling along my jaw had turned a deep, ugly shade of purple. None of us looked like we belonged in ordinary daylight, but the doctors had done what they could and signed the papers.Mr. King insisted on driving.The ride back to campus was quiet. Raihan sat in the front beside his father. I sat behind them, watching the city move past the window, still half-expecting the night’s violence to catch up with us somehow. Every so often Raihan glanced back at me, as if checking I was still there. Each time I gave him a small nod.When we turned onto the final road leading to the hostels, Mr. King slowed the car.“You two should rest,” he said. “I’ll have the remaining documents and your father’s belongings brought over once the poli
LUCAS..For a long time I didn’t speak.The things Mr. King had just told me sat in the room like a third presence — heavy, immovable, rewriting every memory I had of my own life. My father had a twin. That twin had arranged his death. The man sitting across from me had believed I died on that same bridge. And for weeks I had walked through his house, slept under his roof, eaten at his table, while he recognized my father’s eyes and said nothing.Raihan’s hand stayed around mine. He didn’t rush me. Neither did his father.Finally I found my voice.“The letter,” I said. “You said my father wrote me a letter.”Mr. King nodded once. “Yes. It’s still in the cabinet at the house, with the rest of his things. As soon as they discharge us, I’ll take you there myself.”“I want to read it alone first.”“Of course.”Another silence stretched. My ribs ached. My jaw throbbed where Daniel’s fist had landed. None of it compared to the pressure behind my eyes.“You really thought I was dead all thes
LUCAS…The hospital room was quiet except for the low hum of machines and the occasional footsteps in the corridor. Raihan sat beside me on the bed, his bandaged wrists resting on his knees. They kept us at the hospital longer than either of us wanted.Mr. King’s shoulder required stitches and observation. Raihan was cleared but told to rest his wrists and avoid strain. I was given stronger painkillers for my ribs and jaw and instructed not to sleep flat on my back. None of us listened particularly well.Sometime past midnight, a nurse finally allowed us to stay in the same room. Raihan shifted over on the narrow hospital bed without a word, and I lay down beside him carefully, mindful of every bruise. The bed was too small. Neither of us cared.For a long time we just listened to the quiet sounds of the hospital — distant monitors, soft footsteps in the hallway, the occasional murmur of voices.“I keep seeing it,” Raihan said eventually, staring up at the ceiling. “The gun. Victor’s







