The relief hit her, followed by a bittersweet pang. For all his oddness, she had felt a connection with him. He had been sweet, almost innocent, in the way he looked at her, how he valued her presence in his life. But she knew, after today, that she couldn't go back, couldn't pretend that everything was normal.
Taking a steadying breath, Mahnoor hailed a taxi, climbing in and sinking back into the seat, feeling the weight of the day settle over her. As the taxi pulled away, she watched the building disappear behind her, silently hoping this was the last she would ever see of it—and of Raemond.
When she reached her dorm, she went straight to her room, shutting the door and locking it behind her. She knew it would be difficult to avoid Raemond at university, but she was determined to. She couldn't bear to face him again, not after today.
Next day, she had decided to treat herself to breakfast at her favorite café, hoping the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries would ease the tension still coiling in her stomach. But as she walked, lost in her thoughts, fate intervened.
Turning the corner, she nearly collided with Raemond. Her heart dropped, and instinctively, she turned to walk the other way, not wanting to face the lingering shadows of their last encounter. She felt him behind her, his presence like a weight, but she forced herself to keep moving.
"Mahnoor, please wait!" His voice, tinged with desperation, made her pause. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing he would just leave her alone. But she had to respond.
"I buried them this morning," he said quietly, his words hanging heavy in the air between them.
She felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of his parents. "Good," she replied curtly, her voice flat as she continued walking.
"Mahnoor, please don't leave me," he pleaded, his tone shifting from desperation to something almost pitiful. "I've always been so alone. You were the one happy person who made me feel good about myself, the way even my parents couldn't."
She felt a surge of frustration mixed with sympathy. "Rae, please leave me alone," she said, turning to look at him, her expression firm yet softening just a little at his vulnerability.
"Okay," he said, taking a step back, his face a mask of sadness. "But if you ever change your mind, just know I'll be waiting."
With that, he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had settled back onto him. As he disappeared from view, she shook her head, trying to dispel the heaviness in her heart. But even as she walked, the thought of Raemond lingered, a shadow she couldn't quite shake off.
As Mahnoor watched Raemond walk away, a whirlwind of emotions brewed within her. Before she even realized it, she was typing on her phone, her fingers moving almost instinctively.
"Fine, come with me."
She barely had time to process her own decision when he appeared again beside her, his face a mix of surprise and relief. She looked at him, her expression firm. "I want breakfast. A good one."
Raemond's face softened with a faint smile. "Okay. You tell me the place, and I'll take you there."
Without another word, they climbed onto his bike, and he sped off in the direction she indicated. The morning air felt sharp, but being with him felt surprisingly calm, a reminder of their first few days together.
They arrived at her favorite café, settling down to a comforting spread of her favorite treats. Despite everything, the familiar smells and flavors soothed her, and for a while, they ate quietly, almost like old times.
As they finished, Raemond looked across the table, his gaze intense but unreadable. "You know… you never took off my shirt when we… when we were together."
She looked up at him, startled. "Excuse me?"
He shook his head, his eyes clouding over, an emotion she couldn't quite decipher shadowing his face.
Once they'd finished, Raemond took care of the bill, and they rode back to her dorm. As they pulled up, curiosity gnawed at her, unable to shake his strange words or the look on his face.
"Come in," she said softly, opening the door to her room. He followed her inside, sitting down on the couch, his expression hesitant but braced, as if he knew this moment was coming.
Then she yanked his shirt off and what she saw made her heart drop.
Scars, deep and pale, lined his torso, his chest marred with crisscrossing wounds. Bruises and whip-like marks traced his back, some fresher than others, likely only a week old. The cuts on his arms, shoulders, and abdomen were self-inflicted, a testament to battles he had fought silently, in the darkness of his own isolation.
Mahnoor's throat tightened, her stomach twisting as a wave of disbelief and anger washed over her. Before she could even stop herself, her hand struck out, connecting with his cheek in a fierce slap that echoed through the room.
"What is wrong with you?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of anger, heartbreak, and frustration. "There's a thing called reaching out, you know! FFS, Raemond! Why didn't you tell anyone?" Her voice softened, exasperation giving way to pain. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Raemond looked down, his cheek still red from her slap, his expression torn between shame and relief. "Because… I didn't want to burden you. I didn't want anyone to see this." He gestured toward the scars, his voice breaking slightly. "I thought I could handle it."
Mahnoor took a deep breath, trying to process everything she'd just seen and heard. She reached out, her hands trembling as she gently touched one of the older scars, her voice barely a whisper. "Raemond… you don't have to go through this alone."
Mahnoor took a steadying breath, her fingers still lingering near the scars on Raemond's chest, though she'd pulled back, her mind racing as she grappled with what she'd just seen. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but resolute.
"Look," she said, meeting his gaze with a fierce determination, "I'm not just going to abandon you. I'm not going to turn away from you just because you're dealing with… all of this. But you have to get one thing straight: we're not boyfriend and girlfriend, not in the way you seem to imagine it."
He looked down, visibly processing her words. "Okay," he murmured quietly, though a shadow of relief flickered across his face.
"Step one," she said, her voice taking on a no-nonsense tone, "we're going to get you to a therapist. You need someone who can really help you work through all this—the loneliness, the trauma. It's not something you can keep handling alone."
Raemond glanced at her, eyes wide. "A therapist? You think…"
She gave a firm nod. "Yes, absolutely. We're not waiting around on this, Rae. You're going to get help."
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay… if you think it's best, then… okay."
"Good." She pulled out her phone and started scrolling, already looking up options. "I'll book an appointment right away. Tomorrow at 4 p.m."
His nod was more certain this time.
"But before that," she added, looking him over with an assessing frown, "we're visiting my GP today. These wounds…" She shook her head. "They look bad, Rae. You need bandages, maybe even some antibiotics. You can't risk infection."
Raemond face was tinged with embarrassment. They made their way to her physician. At the clinic, the doctor's eyes flicked over Raemond's injuries. Mahnoor stayed with him the entire time, reassuring him with soft words and a steady presence as the GP disinfected and dressed each wound, prescribing antibiotics to prevent infection.
Once they left, Raemond was quiet as they walked back to the car. Before they parted ways, he gave her a look that was difficult to read, but a quiet gratitude shone in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, tears threatening to flow freely from his eyes. She nodded, holding his hand.