It was Thursday, the day after Aiden's Wednesday party. I walked down the corridor towards the cafeteria during recess. I spotted Kafka standing by the entrance.
"Hey, we need to talk," Kafka said, his voice serious.
I felt a shiver down my spine. I nodded and followed him to the secluded park behind the school building.
"Did you know about what I did to Vira?" Kafka asked, his gaze fixed on the ground.
I knew Vira had been upset, but I didn't know the details. "I know she was upset because you asked her for a nude picture," I replied cautiously.
Kafka sighed. "It's a brotherhood thing," he explained, his voice low. "The boys, we made a pact. We can share each other's girls if we want."
My jaw dropped. "What? All of you share your girlfriends with each other?"
Kafka nodded grimly. "Only Zach and Rayyan so far. Tasha is off-limits because Aiden loves her fiercely. I didn't share Vira, of course. I said I love her truly."
I was still shocked.
"But they said I couldn't prove I loved Vira since we never express our affection publicly."
"So, they forced you to ask her for a nude picture?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Kafka looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and defiance. "They said it was the only way to prove it."
I was speechless. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"It was Zach who texted her," Kafka confessed, his voice dropping even lower.
"Oh My God!" I exclaimed.
"I want to explain to Vira. But she didn't want to talk to me," Kafka said, his shoulders slumping.
"Of course Kafka! What do you expect? You know what kind of girl she is.
"Help me Aysha," Kafka pleaded, turning to her. "Help me, I need to talk to her."
Aysha sighed. "I will. I promise."
---
I approached Vira in the library. I said that Kafka needs to talk to her. Private.
"He wants to explain," I said, my voice hesitant. "He seems really remorseful."
Vira looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don't want to see him," she said, her voice shaking. "He broke my trust."
"I know," I said softly. "But maybe hearing his side of the story will help."
Vira hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor. "Fine," she finally agreed. "But if he tries to justify his actions or play the victim, I'm walking out."
I nodded. "I'll tell him."
I found Kafka waiting outside the library, his face pale. "She agreed," I said, trying to sound encouraging. "But she warned you. No excuses."
Kafka nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Thank you, Aysha," he whispered.
I watched as he walked into the library, his shoulders slumped. I hoped for his sake that he could make things right with Vira.
I walked back to my class, my mind reeling from the shocking revelation. The "brotherhood pact" was beyond anything I could have imagined. It was a toxic and dangerous game, and I was glad that Vira had seen through it.
---
Vira listened to Kafka, her face a mask of anger and disbelief. He poured his heart out, explaining the pressure from the other boys, the twisted game they played. He begged for forgiveness, promising to break free from their toxic "brotherhood."
Vira remained silent, her eyes hard. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and dangerous. "You seriously messed up, Kafka. I can't believe you did that to me. I'm done."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Kafka standing there, defeated.
Devastated, Kafka told Aysha about the breakup. Aysha, seeing the genuine pain in his eyes, urged him to fight for Vira."Come on, don't give up!" she said, "Show her you're truly sorry and that you've learned your lesson."
Kafka, fueled by a desperate hope, approached Vira again. He tried to spend time with her, to show her he was truly remorseful. He helped her with her homework, offered to walk her home, and even wrote her a heartfelt apology letter.
Vira remained distant, but Kafka persisted.
One afternoon, while Kafka was trying to talk to Vira, Aiden saw them. The air crackled with tension as Aiden approached, his face a mask of fury. "Why did you dare to leave Kafka?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
Vira, startled by his aggression, bristled. "It's none of your business," she retorted, her voice trembling slightly.
"It is my business!" Aiden roared, his eyes blazing. Kafka's my bro! You can't just hurt him like that."
Kafka, incensed by Aiden's possessive tone, stepped forward. "Back off, Aiden," he warned, his voice tight. "It's none of your concern."
Aiden scoffed. "Yeah, it does matter to me. We're friends, and I won't let you get hurt."
The exchange quickly escalated. Words were exchanged, voices raised, and tempers flared. Aiden, fueled by a mixture of anger, lunged at Kafka.
The fight was a blur of motion. Punches were thrown, bodies collided, and harsh words were exchanged. They wrestled, grappling for dominance, their faces contorted in anger.
Tasha, who had been observing from a distance, rushed over, her heart pounding. "Stop it!" she cried, trying to pull Aiden away.
Aiden, blinded by rage, swatted her hand away. Tasha stumbled back, her face stinging. A sharp, stinging pain erupted across her cheek.
Aiden froze, his eyes widening in horror. He had never intended to hit Tasha. He had only meant to push her away.
Tasha, tears welling up in her eyes, stared at him in disbelief. Then, without a word, she turned and ran away, her sobs echoing through the hallway.
Aiden, struck by the realization of what he had done, chased after her, his calls for forgiveness swallowed by the sound of his own pounding heart.
Kafka and Vira, stunned by the sudden eruption of violence, stared at each other in disbelief. The fight, the unexpected slap, the sight of Tasha running away in tears – it all seemed to happen in a surreal slow motion.
The incident had completely overshadowed their own problems. The air was thick with the tension of the fight, the sting of Tasha's slap, and the lingering fear of what might have been.
Aysha, witnessing the chaos, rushed over to Kafka. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched on her face.
Kafka, still shaken by the events, nodded numbly. Aysha, noticing the cut on his lip, gently guided him towards the sink outside the cafeteria. She dabbed at the wound with a tissue, her touch surprisingly gentle.
"Come on," she said softly, "Let's get you cleaned up. We can go to the clinic."
Kafka, lost in a daze, allowed Aysha to lead him. He felt a strange sense of comfort in her presence, a quiet strength that soothed his troubled mind.