The next day, I tried desperately to find Lilia. I needed to tell her the truth about what Nara had done. But no matter how hard I searched, she was nowhere to be seen. Days passed, and each one felt heavier than the last. Just when I began to lose hope, she finally came back.
I spotted her after class, heading home alone. Summoning every ounce of courage, I approached her. This would be the first time I started a conversation with her, and I couldn't afford to mess it up.
"Hey, Lilia," I said, my voice hesitant but steady. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
She paused, turning to face me. Her expression was guarded, distant.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone clipped.
"It's about Nara. He—"
"Stop," she interrupted sharply, her voice like a blade cutting through the air.
I froze, confused by her reaction.
"I wanted to forget everything. I tried to move on, even after what you did," she said, her eyes narrowing. "But now you're bringing it up again?"
"Wait, Lilia, please," I pleaded, the urgency in my voice rising. "At least listen to me. You deserve to know the truth."
She hesitated, her stance rigid, but something in her softened just enough for me to continue.
"That day, when I went back to class to grab something I forgot, I saw Nara," I began, my words tumbling out in a rush. "He was still there, with his friends. And he... he was showing them your explicit pictures. Laughing about it."
"Stop, Ashan." Her voice trembled this time, her face turning away. "I've had enough."
"No, Lilia. You have to believe me," I insisted. "You have to know what he's really like—"
"Nara told me you might try to lie again," she cut in, her eyes glistening with disappointment. "But I didn't think you'd stoop this low."
Her words hit me like a blow to the chest.
"What... what are you talking about?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I thought you were better than this," she continued, her voice breaking. "Even after what you did, Nara forgave you. And now you're trying to ruin his name? Why, Ashan?"
"He forgave me?" I repeated, the absurdity of it twisting in my gut.
"Yes," she replied firmly, her expression hardening again.
I clenched my fists, my anger bubbling to the surface. "He can go to hell," I said, the words bitter on my tongue.
Lilia recoiled, the last trace of patience fading from her face.
"Don't talk to me again," she said, her voice cold and final. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there.
I went home and just crawled into the bed.
I had messed up, blinded by my rigid sense of justice. I had stuck my neck out for a girl I barely knew, and now I was reaping the consequences. Why had I even cared? If I'd just ignored it like I always did, none of this would have happened.
Two days later, I went to my computer class as usual. I stayed late to use the computers longer, hoping for some peace. The room was quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the machines. Then Nara walked in.
I didn't look up, keeping my eyes on the screen, hoping he'd leave. But he didn't. He came closer.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.
He leaned against the desk casually, as if we were old friends. "You know, you never told the teachers or anyone about the pictures," he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Are you protecting Lilia? Afraid she'll become the object of everyone's pity?"
I clenched my fists under the desk, trying to keep my cool. "I don't care anymore," I said coldly.
"That's better." He smirked, stepping closer. "But just so you know, if you try anything, Lilia will be the one who suffers."
This guy… He was still using Lilia as a pawn. My mind raced with anger. What kind of person does this to someone they claim to care about?
"What do you even think of Lilia?" I asked, my voice low but steady.
His smirk widened. "not much"
That was it. I snapped again.
I stood up abruptly and walked to the door, locking it behind me.
"What the hell are you doing?" Nara asked, his bravado faltering.
I turned to face him, my voice eerily calm. "I don't care anymore—about her, about you, about any of it. But if you're so keen on taking pictures, i want to see how you feel when the roles are reversed."
His smirk disappeared, replaced by panic. "What are you saying?"
"Like I said, I don't care anymore," I replied, my tone flat. "You can hurt her, share her pictures on the internet, or whatever else you're capable of. I'm done trying to stop you."
"Then what are you—"
Before he could finish, I drove my foot into his groin with all the force I could muster. His smirk disappeared as he doubled over, choking on the pain.
I knelt down, my voice sharp and cold. "I want you to feel what it's like—just a fraction of what they feel when you take away their dignity."
He gasped for air, writhing in pain, his hands clutching his stomach and groin. He wasn't getting up anytime soon. Ignoring him, I stripped him of his clothes, my mind clouded with rage and a sick sense of justice. I grabbed my phone and snapped pictures, taking a video for good measure. By the time I was done, he was still lying there, groaning weakly. I crouched down beside him, speaking in a low, threatening voice. "If you ever even think about hurting her again—or else—I'll make sure the whole world sees these."
I grabbed his phone and reset it, erasing whatever leverage he thought he had. Then I crouched beside him again.
"This is your last warning, Nara. If I ever hear about you hurting her—or anyone else—I won't stop at this."
Nara never came back to the computer class after that. Lilia stopped coming too.
And at the end even i left.
I later heard they'd broken up that same day. Maybe he was afraid I'd follow through on my threats if he stayed with her. Maybe he realized she wasn't someone he could control anymore.
"So, what do you think about it, Rena?" I asked hesitantly, my voice low and unsure.
Rena looked at me, her gaze steady and calm, yet unreadable. For a moment, she said nothing, and I had no idea how she would respond.
Finally, she spoke. "I told you from the start, Ashan, that I would hear you out and not judge."
I nodded, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve.
"And I meant it," she continued. "I don't intend to discuss whether your actions were right or wrong. That's not for me to decide."
I waited, unsure if that was all she had to say, but her gaze softened as she added, "But... you could have handled it in a smarter way."
I exhaled, bracing myself for more criticism, but instead, she smiled faintly.
"However," she said, her tone shifting to something almost reassuring, "you achieved your objective. You wanted to save Lilia from that monster, and you did. And that's what matters most, doesn't it?"
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I had been bracing for condemnation, maybe even disgust, but instead, there was understanding—maybe even approval.
Her perspective wasn't one I had considered before. Maybe I had been too quick to act, too rash, but in her eyes, it wasn't all bad.
"You really do know how to use your words," I muttered, a small, weary smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
She chuckled lightly. "Sometimes, words are all we need to make sense of things."
I nodded "true".
"So after that incident," I began, shifting the conversation forward, "I learned to care even less about people. Maybe I told myself it was safer that way, or maybe I was just too tired of all the complications. Either way, I started keeping my distance from everyone. Trust became something I just couldn't afford anymore."
I glanced at Rena to see if she was still listening. She was, her expression unreadable but attentive, as though she was hanging on to every word.
"I told myself I didn't need anyone," I continued. "That I was better off alone. And for a while, I believed it. But..." I hesitated, the weight of what I was about to say catching in my throat.
"But then Tsula came into my life," I admitted, the words feeling strange as I said them out loud. "And everything started to change."
Rena's eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"At first, I didn't even realize it," I said, my voice soft. "She just had this... way about her. Like she could see through all the walls I'd put up. She didn't push, didn't pry—she just... stayed. Slowly, she made me realize that maybe it was okay to let someone in."
Rena nodded slightly, her expression softening.
"Tsula taught me that it's okay to care, even when it hurts," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "She showed me that letting someone in doesn't make you weak. It can make you stronger."
I stopped there, the words hanging in the air between us. For a moment, there was silence, but it didn't feel awkward or heavy. It felt... reflective.
Rena finally broke the silence. "It sounds like Tsula helped you find something you didn't even know you were looking for," she said gently.
Rena eyes meeting mine. "Either way, it seems like she's been good for you."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "She has."
I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "She had something that I didn't—a strength, a resilience, a light that refused to be extinguished. Because of her, I was able to feel normal again, like i was needed and maybe there was still something good left in me."
"That's why I wanted to stay by her side—not out of obligation, guilt, or some sense of repayment, but because I wanted to see her happy. Truly happy."
"Maybe I don't deserve that kind of peace for myself, not after everything, but I want to help her find it. And if that meant being her friend, her support, or just someone she could count on when things got hard, then I'd do it without hesitation."
"She deserves happiness, and I'd do whatever it takes to help her find it again."
Rena nodded, her eyes softening just a little. "I think she's lucky to have you, Ashan," she said, her voice gentle but sincere.
"Lucky?" I echoed, almost incredulous. "I think it's the other way around."
Her faint smile deepened, but she didn't push the point. Instead, she simply said, "Sometimes, it's not about who helps who more. It's about finding the right person at the right time."
I let her words sink in as we sat there, the conversation winding down into a comfortable silence. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn't just about what I could do for Tsula, but also what she had already done for me.
And in that quiet moment, with the soft hum of the world around us, what I felt was a little less alone.