The sun filled the classroom with a faint light as Khaled sat in the back of the room.
He rested his head on his hand, staring out the window, trying to ignore all the noise around him.
Khaled was an eighteen-year-old young man with sharp features and distant eyes that made him seem slightly older than his age. His deep eyes held a hint of sadness that he tried to hide. His dark brown hair was slightly long, as if he didn't care to keep it tidy.
The warm sunlight filtered through the glass, casting golden patches on his face, giving him a fleeting sense of peace and quiet.
But that feeling didn't last long as the sound of laughter from his classmates broke the moment.
"Look, it's the cursed Khaled! Lost in thought as always," one of his classmates said loudly, making the others laugh.
"He always sits alone and never talks to anyone. Kinda weird, don't you think?"
"Did you know he lost his father when he was still a child?"
"Haha, no wonder! A freak like him could only bring bad luck to those around him."
"That's right, they call him cursed for a reason. Stay away if you don't want to be cursed too! Hahaha!"
Those words burned inside Khaled like fire, but he showed no reaction.
He had learned a long time ago not to show weakness—just like wolves. The moment they smell blood, they never stop attacking.
He always felt lonely, even in crowded places, as if he didn't belong in this world.
Finally, the school day ended, and Khaled could breathe a sigh of relief.
Returning home was the only moment in his day when he felt free—no mockery, no disturbances.
He entered his dimly lit home, which was empty as usual. After his father's death, his mother had taken on the burden of all the expenses, working long hours, which left little time for them to talk.
He dropped his bag on the floor and headed straight to his room.
That room was his only sanctuary, the place where he found peace.
Sitting on his chair, he turned on his computer. The moment the screen lit up, a sense of comfort washed over him.
Even though Khaled seemed cold and distant, he had deep emotions and a vivid, active imagination. Writing was his greatest talent.
He struggled to express his feelings through speech, but through writing, he was exceptional.
With no humans around to look at him with judgmental eyes, Khaled could finally indulge in his beloved hobby—writing.
Creating a perfect world where he wished to live. A world where he had true friends who supported him with their words. A world where people respected him and looked at him with admiration.
A world where he was the hero.
In this world, he created a character to represent him. His name was Noor.
Noor was an eighteen-year-old young man. His well-proportioned features and confident appearance reflected his strong sense of self. After spending so much time under the sun, he had developed a bronze complexion. His hazel eyes radiated warmth and reassurance.
His black hair flowed down to his shoulders. He had a strong physique, broad shoulders, and well-defined muscles—enough to show his training in combat and hard work, but without excess.
Noor was known for his deep respect for his parents. He always made sure to spend time helping them because they meant everything to him.
Every week, he would go hunting with his father. And today was the perfect day for it.
Sunlight seeped through the dense tree leaves, casting patterns on the grassy ground.
Noor stood beside his father, Tarek, who was deeply focused as he examined deer tracks imprinted in the soil.
"My son, do you see these tracks?" his father spoke in a low, confident voice. "These small, heart-shaped hoof prints indicate that it's a deer. Also, the sharp edges of the prints mean they are fresh."
Noor knelt to examine the tracks, trying to absorb every word.
Tarek smiled and lifted his head to look at Noor. "You can also see how the back hooves' prints are deeper than the front ones, which means the deer was running. Considering how fresh these tracks are, along with these broken plants nearby, the deer must be close."
Excitement filled Noor. His father was amazing! Not only was he a skilled hunter, but it seemed like he could communicate with nature itself.
"So, what do we do now?" Noor asked.
"Of course, we track it. Make sure not to take unnecessary steps and stay quiet. The key to hunting is blending with your surroundings."
Tarek moved cautiously, stepping lightly and steadily, while Noor followed, trying to mimic his father's movements.
After a while, Tarek pointed at a small bush. Behind it, a young deer stood alert.
"Look at that deer. Notice how its ears flicker and how it keeps its legs ready to bolt."
Noor asked curiously, "Could it have sensed us?"
"Yes, it has. Do you know why?"
Noor muttered in confusion, "But we didn't make any mistakes…" At that moment, he noticed a leaf falling and drifting with the wind toward the deer. Suddenly, realization struck him. "I get it now! The wind carried our scent to the deer."
Tarek laughed proudly. "Well done! That's exactly what happened. It seems the wind isn't on our side today."
"Does that mean we won't hunt this deer?"
Tarek sighed. "There are too many trees and obstacles between us and the deer. To get a good shot, we would need to move closer. But since the deer is already on high alert, even the slightest movement or sound will make it flee."
Raising his hands in surrender, he said, "Just give up. Trying would be a waste of time and effort. Besides, I want to get home quickly—I'm starving! I bet your mother has prepared lots of delicious food by now."
Noor sighed in disappointment. "I really wanted to hunt this deer. I was planning to make gloves from its fur for Mom."
Tarek burst into laughter. "You're quite something! But you should understand that hunting isn't just about skill—it's also about the experience. Every time you go into the forest, you learn something new. The forest is a great teacher, but it only gives its lessons to those who have patience."
"What if we didn't hunt today? There will always be another time."
Hearing his father's words, Noor's eyes brightened. "Haha, that's true!"
Tarek wrapped an arm around Noor's neck. "Now, son, let's hurry back. Pray that your mother made meat stew—it's the best!"
"Ugh, I'm tired of meat. I hope she made fish balls."
Tarek squeezed Noor's neck playfully. "Admit it—meat stew is the best!"
"No! Fish balls!"
"Meat stew!"
"Fish…"
...
They returned home empty-handed, but Noor carried back something more valuable than a catch—deeper understanding of the forest and greater admiration for his father.
As they neared home, the sight of white smoke rising from the kitchen chimney greeted them.
The delicious aroma of food spread through the air, easing the fatigue of their long hunting trip.
At the door, Noor's mother greeted them with her usual warm smile. "You're finally back! Should I assume you didn't return empty-handed?" she asked while wiping her hands with a cloth.
Tarek chuckled. "Not exactly, my dear. Today was more of a lesson than a hunt."
Noor, carrying some firewood he had collected on the way back, added, "Dad is the best teacher anyone could ask for! I think I learned more today than ever before!"
"Well, you both seem excited. I guess I should prepare a bigger table!" she said, gesturing for them to come inside.
The dinner table was already set, filled with warm bread, a large pot of stew, cooked meat, and grilled fish.
They gathered around the table, exchanging grateful glances…
"How was your day, Noor?" his mother asked as she filled a bowl of soup and handed it to him.
With excitement, Noor spoke about what he had learned—how to track animal footprints and how his father used subtle clues to determine the prey's condition.
He kept talking enthusiastically while his father smiled from time to time.
Tariq shared an old hunting story from his past, which ended with him being chased by a herd of wild boars.
His wife laughed and said, "I hope you didn't teach Noor that part of hunting."
They continued chatting and eating in the warmth of their home. Every laugh, every glance reassured Noor that this family was his safe haven, where he could truly be himself.
He realized that life didn't need more than a loving family and a warm meal.
And now—
We leave Noor's lively and warm dinner table and return to Khaled's quiet and dark room.
In his room, Khaled leaned on his desk, staring at his computer screen.
Silence reigned, only broken by the sound of his breathing.
Even as he tried to escape reality, negative thoughts found their way into his mind, ruining the warmth of his imagination.
Noor's family was perfect. The scene at the dinner table was filled with love and understanding. The more Khaled immersed himself in it, the more nostalgia gripped his heart.
He couldn't stop himself from recalling old memories of his own family—faded memories that refused to disappear.
He remembered his father… how he used to sit at the head of the table, laughing loudly and joking with them.
His mother would serve the food, laughing as well, while Khaled and his father shared conversations about his dreams.
Everything was going well—until that fateful night.
The phone rang late at night.
Six-year-old Khaled didn't understand what had happened at first. But he still vividly remembered the look on his mother's face as the phone slipped from her trembling hand—her lifeless expression and the tears that wouldn't stop falling.
"What's wrong, Mom?" he asked in a nervous tone, but he received no answer. Only long, silent sobs.
His father was working as usual on a high construction platform, the noise of machines filling the air.
Sweat dripped down his forehead as he tried to keep his balance on the narrow wooden beam. But in a moment of carelessness, his foot slipped.
That single moment felt like years. The sounds disappeared, replaced by a deep silence.
All he could think about were the faces of his family—his wife's smile and his son, who always ran toward him with open arms.
He felt deep regret. He had exerted all his effort for them, but he never imagined that he would end up like this, this fall from which he would never rise again.
''I'm sorry...'' was the only word he muttered.
Khaled opened his eyes to the sound of his ragged breaths. He wiped away a tear that had fallen.
"'My father was amazing too... Nour'' he muttered in a hoarse voice, addressing his imaginary character who had become closer to him than anyone else in his life.
He turned off the computer, which was the only source of light in the room, and let the darkness embrace him once again.
He closed his eyes on past memories that would never return.