Monica dropped Rayyan at the hostel just as the sky was turning the colour of bruised violet.
"Message me if you need anything," Monica said, her fingers still resting lightly on the steering wheel. "I won't be coming to college tomorrow… my dad just got back, and he said there's something important happening at home."
Rayyan nodded, forcing a small smile. "You too. And… thanks. For everything today."
She gave him that quiet, steady look that always seemed to anchor him. "We did what anyone should do," she said. "Goodnight, Rayyan."
He watched her car disappear down the road before he turned toward the hostel.
The first thing he did when he reached his room was throw himself under the shower. Hot water beat down on his neck and shoulders, but it couldn't wash away the thoughts crowding his mind.
Lisa's trembling voice. Ayden's laughing face in his memories. Monica's hands, steady on Lisa's shoulders as she told her she wasn't alone.
When he finally lay down on the bed, the ceiling fan hummed above him, a slow, tired circle. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to sleep.
Is Ayden really capable of this?
He stared at the cracked paint on the ceiling, the question looping endlessly.
Ayden, who always paid for his lunch during school days when Rayyan was short .Ayden, who helped him to reach the place he is now.
That same Ayden?
And yet Lisa's face when she spoke…Those weren't the eyes of someone casually lying. They were the eyes of someone who had fallen from a very great height.
Who is telling the truth?
He thought of the times Lisa had twisted stories before, how drama seemed to follow her like a shadow. Many times, what she said and what really happened did not match.
But what if this time is different?
His chest tightened. The more he thought, the less everything made sense.
Finally he squeezed his eyes shut."Enough," he muttered. "Just sleep, Rayyan. Think tomorrow."
Somewhere between regret and confusion, he eventually drifted off.
Morning came like it always did, merciless and routine.
Rayyan woke early, showered again, and went to class. On the outside he was the same — quiet, taking notes, nodding at the lecturer — but his mind kept slipping back to the hospital room.
By afternoon he was on a crowded bus, heading to the housing area where he taught tuition. After the class, he head back to college.
Monica didn't come to the college that day.
"She's busy with her parents," she'd messaged that morning. "Family thing. You'll be okay?"
He'd replied with a thumbs-up and a simple, "Yeah, all good. Take care."
But somehow, without her there, the day felt heavier.
Instead of going straight to the hostel, he walked toward the big tree near the field and sat down beneath it.
The late-afternoon sun was softer here, filtered through leaves. Students played futsal in the distance. Someone practised guitar nearby, a slow, sad tune.
Rayyan leaned his back against the tree trunk and took a long breath.
He needed a solution for Lisa. She couldn't be left drifting like this, half-broken and alone. But how could he help her if he didn't even know what to believe?
I have to talk to Ayden, he decided. Hear his side properly.
As if summoned by the thought, his phone rang.
The name on the screen made his heart jolt.
Ayden.
"Hey, bro!" Ayden's cheerful voice flowed through the speaker as soon as Rayyan answered. "How's my best friend doing?"
Rayyan swallowed. "I'm okay, Ayden."
"You sound tired," Ayden laughed lightly. "Exam stress, huh? How's campus? How's life?"
"It's… okay," Rayyan repeated, his voice softer than usual.
Ayden seemed to sense something. "Everything alright there? You sure?"
Rayyan hesitated. "Yeah. All okay so far."
He didn't know how to blurt out Lisa is pregnant and says you abandoned her. The words refused to leave his throat.
Instead, he told him about Monica, about how she'd helped him find the tuition job.
"Bro, that's amazing!" Ayden said. "Good job, Rayyan. Extra income — finally you can give me a treat when I come back."
Rayyan chuckled weakly. "Sureee."
He didn't tell Ayden that his father had stopped sending money, that every ringgit now was a careful calculation. Somehow, that felt like one more burden Ayden didn't need.
"Anything you need," Ayden said suddenly, more serious, "just call me, okay? I'm far, but I'll always help you if I can. Promise."
The words stung in a place Rayyan didn't expect.
He cleared his throat. "How's… your girlfriend?"
There was a brief silence on the line.
Ayden sighed. "Honestly? I don't know what's going on with her anymore."
Rayyan's heart thumped harder. "What do you mean?"
"She's not like before," Ayden said. "She called asking for money a few times. I helped. But the last time, I said no. I just didn't know what she was using it for. After that, she keeps cancelling my calls. I'm busy here too, bro. Classes, projects. I thought I'd sort everything when I get back. But now… I don't know. Things are not good, I think."
His voice sounded genuinely confused. Worried, even.
Rayyan stared at the field, watching a football roll past without really seeing it.
"Don't worry, Ayden," he said slowly. "I'll… I'll try to check and see if everything is okay here."
"Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you." Ayden sounded relieved. "You're a good guy, you know that? Good things will come to you one day, Rayyan."
After they hung up, Rayyan sat very still.
Ayden's tone, his concern — it all sounded so… real. So Ayden.
Not the voice of a man coldly abandoning someone.
Slowly, the scale in Rayyan's mind tipped.
Maybe Lisa is not telling everything. Maybe she's twisting it again. The old pattern of doubt returned.
And with it, guilt.
He'd almost believed Ayden was a monster. He'd let Lisa's tears turn his heart against his own best friend.
"I'm sorry, bro," he whispered to the empty field. "I shouldn't have doubted you."
Another thought surfaced: I need to tell Monica.
He stood up and dialled her number, feeling strangely eager to hear her voice.
The call was answered after a few rings — but it wasn't her.
"Hello, Rayyan?"
It was her father.
Rayyan straightened instinctively. "Hello, sir. Is Monica there? Can I speak to her?"
There was a pause, then a small chuckle. "Oh, Rayyan. She's… busy today."
"She is?" Rayyan asked, frowning. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. In fact, it's good news," her father said, sounding pleased. "My friend's son saw Monica at the hospital yesterday — he is a doctor there. It seems he fell in love at first sight."
Rayyan's grip on his phone tightened.
"My friend and his family came today with a proposal," her father continued. "We're a bit busy with that now. Monica is getting ready."
The words felt like knives slipping quietly between Rayyan's ribs.
"I… I see," he managed.
"I'll ask her to call you tomorrow, okay?" her father added. "Thank you for calling, Rayyan."
"Okay, sir. Thank you," Rayyan replied automatically.
The line went dead.
He stared at the screen long after the call had ended.
A proposal. Monica. To a doctor she'd barely met.
His heart felt like it had been punched from the inside. Hard.
He didn't understand why it hurt so much — they weren't anything. She was his friend. His helper. His… light, sometimes. That's all.
So why did it feel like the ground had shifted under his feet?
Tears pricked his eyes before he could stop them. He blinked them away angrily.
What's wrong with you, Rayyan? Why does it matter?
He tried to stand, but his legs felt unstable, so he sat again, staring up at the sky, now streaked with shades of orange and pink.
"Oh God… why am I feeling this?" he whispered. "Why does it feel like she's going far away from me?"
He thought of Monica's smile, the way she always noticed when he was struggling. The way she shared her chicken at lunch without making him feel poor. The way she stood firm in the hospital, telling Lisa she wasn't alone.
The idea of her in someone else's life — someone rich, someone perfect — twisted inside him.
Maybe people like her are never meant for guys like me, a bitter voice inside muttered. I'm always the one people leave when something better comes along.
He picked up his bag and walked back to the hostel slowly, each step heavier than the last.
He skipped dinner. The thought of food made his stomach churn.
In his room, he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair.
Unlucky, he thought. Always unlucky. Whenever someone shows you kindness, they're taken away.
His phone rang again, breaking through the spiral.
He glanced at the screen.
Lisa.
He closed his eyes for a moment, already exhausted.
He answered anyway. "Hello."
"Rayyan?" Lisa's voice was thin, urgent. "Can you help me? I need some money…"
A familiar wave of frustration swept through him.
"Lisa, not today. Please." His voice came out sharper than he intended. "I'm tired of listening to this from you."
"But Rayyan, it's important, I—"
He didn't let her finish.
"I said not today," he cut in, then ended the call.
The silence that followed rang louder than the phone.
He tossed the phone aside, lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling again.
But the peace he hoped for didn't come.
The phone buzzed once more.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
With a sigh, he grabbed it, ready to switch it off — but stopped when he saw the notification.
3 new messages from Lisa.
He opened them without thinking.
Lisa: I'm sorry. I know you're tired.Lisa: I don't have anyone else to ask. This is my last chance.Lisa: If you can't help… it's okay. I'll do it alone tonight.
Rayyan's heart lurched.
Do what alone?
A cold dread began to spread through his chest as the implication sank in.
He sat up abruptly, fingers hovering over the screen, suddenly wide awake.
"Lisa… what are you going to do?" he whispered.
Before he could type a reply, a new message appeared.
This time, it wasn't from Lisa.
It was from an unknown number.
Unknown: Are you Rayyan? I'm calling from the clinic. It's about your friend, Lisa…
Rayyan's blood ran cold.
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thinner, as the phone began to ring again in his trembling hand.
And for the first time that day, he felt truly afraid.