Zayn lay on his bed, one arm draped across his chest, his eyes fixed on the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him. The room was quiet, yet his mind refused to be. Danish's words echoed again and again, each repetition pulling him deeper into a memory he had never truly escaped. Time had passed, wounds had scarred over—but that night still lived inside him, sharp and unforgiving.
It had been late at the university college, the kind of late where the world felt paused. The campus was almost deserted, wrapped in shadows and silence. Zayn, Faqair, and Danish sat on the cold concrete stairs near one of the academic blocks.
A single light bulb hung above them, flickering as if it, too, was tired. Their laughter cut through the quiet as they joked and teased each other, enjoying the freedom that came with the hour.
Danish, however, was barely present.
He sat hunched forward, eyes locked onto his phone, jaw tight. His fingers moved restlessly, scrolling, typing, stopping—then starting again. Zayn noticed the tension almost immediately.
"What is it, brother?" Zayn asked, nudging him lightly. "You've been on your phone since you sat down. Everything okay?"
Danish looked up and smiled, but it was hollow. "Yeah. Everything's fine."
Faqair leaned back and grinned. "What happened? Girlfriend didn't reply?"
Laughter followed, easy and careless.
Even Danish let out a short chuckle.
Then his phone buzzed.
The moment Danish looked at the screen, his expression changed. The smile vanished, replaced by something darker—something sharp.
"Alright, guys," he said suddenly, standing up. "I'm leaving."
Zayn smirked. "Ah, the message came."
They laughed again as Danish walked away, his pace quick, his shoulders tense.
As soon as he disappeared into the shadows, Faqair's smile faded.
"Did you see his face?" he said quietly. "He looked angry."
Zayn nodded. "Yeah. Come on. Let's follow him. You know how bad his temper gets."
After a brief pause, Faqair agreed.
They followed Danish from a distance, careful not to be seen. He moved through the dim corridors with purpose until he stopped outside a storeroom tucked away from the main buildings. Inside, a girl was waiting. Zayn and Faqair stopped near the door, watching silently from afar.
Danish entered.
The girl rushed toward him and wrapped her arms around him, relief evident in her posture. But Danish didn't return the hug. He stood stiffly, unmoving, before stepping back. Confusion flickered across her face.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
Danish smiled—a slow, unsettling curve of his lips. "I was about to ask you the same thing," he said. "What happened to you, huh?"
"Nothing," she replied quickly. "Nothing at all."
He laughed under his breath and lifted his hand, gently rubbing her cheek. For a split second, it almost looked tender.
Then his hand slammed against the wall beside her head.
The sound echoed violently through the room. The girl flinched, her breath hitching as fear took hold. She clutched her dress tightly, her eyes fixed on his.
"Danish, listen to me," she whispered.
"I have been listening," he replied coldly. "Only to you."
She reached up, touching his jaw, her voice trembling. "Listen… it's not what you think. I—"
Footsteps echoed nearby.
Zayn and Faqair quickly slipped into the adjacent room, their hearts pounding as they pressed themselves against the wall.
Inside the storeroom, Danish pushed her hand away and chuckled darkly. He grabbed her by the neck, his grip tightening.
"You didn't do a good thing," he said.
She struggled, trying to pry his fingers away. "Please… listen to me. At least once."
He released her abruptly and pulled out his phone, shoving it in front of her face.
"Is this what I deserve?"
Her hands shook as she grabbed his wrist. "It's not like that. Believe me. I love you."
Something inside Danish snapped.
He yanked his hand free and began throwing whatever he could reach, his rage spilling out uncontrollably. The crashing sounds carried down the corridor.
Zayn and Faqair rushed toward the door.
Before they could reach it, Danish grabbed a leg wrench lying nearby. In a blind fury, he swung it hard.
The impact was final.
They burst into the room just in time to see the girl collapse to the floor. Zayn froze, shock ripping through him.
Faqair dropped to his knees beside her, checking desperately.
"She's not breathing, bro," Faqair said, his voice shaking.
Zayn grabbed Danish by the collar, his hands trembling with anger. "Are you insane? What have you done?"
Danish didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on the girl as he pointed the leg wrench toward her.
"She deserved it."
Zayn shouted, his voice cracking. "You've taken someone's life! Are you out of your mind?"
Faqair stood up slowly, horror etched across his face. "You can't kill someone, Danish. What have you done?"
Zayn released Danish and reached for his phone, hands shaking as he dialed.
Danish saw it. He snatched the phone and threw it across the room.
Then he grabbed Zayn by the collar."What kind of friend are you?" he yelled. "You want to send me to jail?"
Zayn pushed his hand away, his eyes burning. "Yes. You did something wrong. I won't support anyone in their crimes."
Faqair picked up the phone again.
Danish raised the tire iron
Before he could strike, Zayn caught his arm and punched him hard in the stomach. "You are going to jail," Zayn said firmly.
Faqair tried once more to call the police.
Danish lunged, smashed the phone against the wall, and in that confined space, friendship finally collapsed under the weight of blood and betrayal.
The three of them fought—not just with fists, but with everything that had ever bound them together.
And that night became the breaking point none of them would ever escape.
To be continued...