Sometimes being kind invites the wrong people into your life.
Monica opened the car door and gestured softly.
"Rayyan… please get in."
Her voice was gentle, but there was steel beneath it—anger, worry, protectiveness, all tangled together. Rayyan quietly slid inside. Monica closed her door and rested both hands on the steering wheel. She didn't start the car yet.
She simply inhaled.
Deep. Slow. As if calming her own storm.
Rayyan stared at his hands. They were still trembling.
He hated that… hated that someone like Lisa — someone who barely knew him — could shake him this deeply.
Monica finally turned to him.
"Rayyan… are you okay?"
He swallowed. "I'm… fine."
"No," she said sharply. "You're not."
Her voice cracked—just a little. Not from anger.
From worry.
Real worry.
Rayyan's chest tightened.
"Monica… I'm really fine. I just… didn't expect she would behave like that."
Monica's gaze softened in a way that almost unraveled him.
"What she did was wrong," she whispered. "You don't deserve that. You were just trying to be kind."
He nodded, eyes lowered.
Silence filled the car — not heavy, not suffocating. Soft. Strange. Comforting.
"Let's go," Monica murmured.
She started the engine. Streetlights rushed past in yellow streaks as they drove. Rayyan leaned his head back, the ache in his chest quietly gnawing.
Monica glanced sideways at him.
His face… tired, shaken, quietly hurting.
Her heart twisted.
"Rayyan," she said again.
He looked at her.
"You're not alone. Okay? No matter what she said… you're not alone."
Rayyan blinked slowly. Something warm spread inside him.
"Thank you, Monica."
She smiled faintly — but it was enough.
The distance between them shrank, quietly, invisibly.
Outside the Hostel
Monica parked the car. Rayyan opened the door, but paused when she called softly:
"Rayyan?"
He leaned back in.
"Don't let people like her make you feel small."
Rayyan managed a small smile. "I'll try."
"No," she whispered. "Promise me."
He hesitated… then nodded.
"I promise."
Her smile broke softly across her face — warm, proud, something he didn't understand yet.
She watched him walk inside.
Only when he disappeared did she lean back and exhale shakily.
"…why do I care this much?"
She didn't know.
But she couldn't deny it anymore.
Rayyan's Room — Night
Rayyan collapsed onto his bed.
Lisa's words stabbed through him again and again.
"You cheated me.""You're doing this because of her?""Remember—you're here because of my boyfriend!"
Each one was a wound he didn't deserve.
And yet Monica stood up for him.
Protected him.
Shielded him in ways he never expected.
"Why is everything so confusing…" he whispered.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under.
Morning — A Mother's Instinct
Rayyan woke at 6 AM.
Surprisingly… lighter. Not healed, but lighter.
His phone rang.
"Mom?"
Her voice trembled."Rayyan… are you okay? I had a bad dream. I just wanted to check."
Rayyan's throat tightened.
"I'm fine, mom. Really. How's dad?"
"He's much better. Back at work. Rayyan… don't worry about us. Study hard. Don't let anything distract you."
Rayyan stared at the wall.
How could she feel his pain from miles away?
A small smile formed.
"Okay, mom."
The day suddenly felt kinder.
Campus → Tuition House → Reality
After class, Rayyan texted Monica:
Monica, I'll take the bus to tuition today.I don't want to trouble you anymore.I'll see you later.
She didn't reply.
Rayyan boarded the bus, walked to Uncle Samuel's home, and completed his first real paid class.
When Uncle Samuel placed the $100 in his hand, Rayyan's heart swelled.
His first honest earning.His first step forward.
He planned to repay Monica slowly. And maybe buy her dinner tonight.
He waited at the bus stop afterward, mind swirling with thoughts of gratitude… and fear.
Why did she care so much for him?Would this cause problems later?Would his kindness cause misunderstandings again?
Just as the bus approached—
A black car stopped in front of him.
Monica.
But she looked pale. Weak. Unwell.
Monica's Fever
Rayyan rushed forward.
"Monica—why are you here? I told you I'd take the bus! You look sick—what happened?"
She forced a small smile.
"Just flu… fever… my parents aren't in town. I'll go to the clinic when they return. I didn't want you to wait for the bus alone."
Rayyan's worry turned sharp.
"Monica… you shouldn't be driving like this."
She shook her head. "I'm fine—"
"No," Rayyan said firmly. "You're not."
He gently took the keys from her hand.
"Let me drive. I don't have a license, but I can handle it. I need to bring you to the clinic first."
Monica stared at him silently — surprised, touched, emotional.
He helped her into the passenger seat carefully, holding her by the shoulders.
For the first time… she leaned on him without resisting.
Clinic — The Truth of Care
The doctor frowned.
"Her fever is high. She needs rest. No stress, no classes."
Rayyan nodded."I'll take care of her, doctor."
Rayyan paid the clinic fee using the money he had earned from his very first tuition class.His hard-earned income… gone in a single heartbeat.
But he didn't regret it.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her as they stepped outside.Her body leaned into him, light and trembling, her breath warm against his sleeve.
"Rayyan… I feel dizzy," she whispered.
"I know," he said softly. "Just lean on me. I've got you."
He helped her into the passenger seat, pulled the seatbelt across her slowly so it wouldn't hurt her, and adjusted the seat so she could rest.
Halfway through the drive, her head gently slid to the side… resting against the window.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
She had fallen asleep.
Rayyan glanced at her from time to time.
Her breathing was soft.Her face was pale.Her lashes trembled with every exhale.
He drove slower than usual.Careful. Quiet.As if any bump in the road might hurt her.
And somewhere between one traffic light and the next…
His chest tightened.
No one had ever trusted him like this.Fallen asleep—fragile and exhausted—right beside him.Believing he would keep them safe.
He didn't know how long he spent just watching her gentle breathing whenever the car paused.But when he finally turned into her neighborhood, he exhaled in relief.
He parked in front of her house.
Only then did he whisper—
"Monica… we're home."
She stirred, eyes half-open, voice barely a breath.
"Rayyan… why did you bring me back here?" she whispered as he pulled into her house.
"I have class—"
"No, Monica." His voice was deep, firm. "You're sick. You need to rest. The doctor gave you medical leave."
He helped her inside, walking slowly, holding her hand so she wouldn't wobble.
She sat on the sofa, breathing softly.
"Rayyan… the house is empty. My parents are away. You don't have to—"
"Monica," he said gently, "Can I use the kitchen?"
She blinked.
"…the house is yours," she whispered.
For the first time, she looked… fragile.
Rayyan stepped into the kitchen, opened cupboards, checked shelves. He remembered his mother's herbal soup recipe. He remembered her hands stirring the pot. He remembered her warmth.
He cooked for Monica with the same love.
When he brought the bowl to her, the aroma filled the room.
"Rayyan… you don't have to—"
"Monica," he said softly, "You've done so much for me. Let me do at least one thing for you."
Her eyes filled with tears.
No one… not even her own parents… had taken care of her like this.
She sipped the soup. Warmth spread through her chest.
"This is my mother's recipe," Rayyan said. "It helped me when I had fever."
Monica wiped her eyes.
"Rayyan… thank you."
When she finished, Rayyan stood.
"You rest now. I'll come check on you tomorrow morning."
She quickly grabbed his hand.
"Rayyan… stay."
He froze.
"I mean… the house is big. You can use the study room. Do your revision here. You don't have to go back tonight."
Her voice was soft. Fragile. Almost pleading.
"My parents trust me… and they trust you. They won't mind."
Rayyan hesitated.
Monica's hand—still holding his—trembled slightly.
"Please… stay."
Rayyan looked at her.
At her fever-reddened eyes. Her vulnerability. Her trust. Her loneliness.
He exhaled slowly.
And then—
The front door unlocked.
A voice echoed through the hall.
"Monica? We're home early. Where are you?"
Monica's eyes widened.
Rayyan felt his heartbeat stop.
Her parents… were back. And Rayyan was standing in their living room. Holding their daughter's hand.