The night had finally stilled—a fragile, precious quiet that wrapped itself around the little cabin like a blanket. The lantern on the table hummed with a soft golden glow. Shadows quivered lazily across the wooden walls.
Ababeel's eyes drooped shut for a single, vulnerable second—
CRASH!!
The door exploded inward. Wood splintered. Cold air knifed into the room.
Ababeel jolted awake, heart ramming into her throat.
Three soldiers stormed inside, boots thundering on the floorboards.
Sergeant Daniel strode in first, smirking as though he'd caught prey. Behind him came Private Micheal, tall and broad, rifle raised. And last, stepping in with a predator's slow ease, was Corporal Leo—the one with a scar cutting down his cheek like a crack in stone.
Sergeant Daniel scanned the room as if it belonged to him.
"Well, well," he drawled, "what do we have here? A little runaway couple?"
Private Micheal chuckled."Or maybe a warm bed to loot. Either works."
Their laughter was thick with something rotten.
Ababeel's hands trembled, but she forced herself to grab the wooden bat from beside the chair. Her heartbeat shattered against her ribs. Still, she stood her ground.
"Stay back," she said, voice shaking but firm.
It only amused them.
Corporal Leo stepped closer. Towering. Casting a shadow that swallowed the lantern light.
"Aww," he murmured mockingly, "look at her. Brave. Cute."
His hand came up—fingers brushing her hair, not affectionately but like he was claiming territory.
Ababeel jerked away, breath stuttering. His chest tightened. Her vision blurred at the edges.
Old trauma, buried deep, slammed up through her body with a force that left her shaking.
She stumbled back until her spine hit the wall, gripping the bat so hard her knuckles turned bone-white.
Corporal Leo's hand moved again—
But another hand shot out and clamped onto his wrist.
Hard.
Habeel.
Barely conscious.Feverish.Hair sticking to his sweat-damp forehead. His legs were trembling so badly that he could hardly stand.
But his grip on the soldier was iron.
"No matter what this war is…" Habeel rasped, his voice hoarse and shaking with rage, "This—THIS—is not allowed. You don't touch her.Ever."
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Sergeant Daniel stared at him. Private Micheal stepped back. Even Yasin blinked in disbelief.
Then—
WHAM!
The butt of Hassan's rifle slammed into Habeel's ribs.
The air left his lungs in a choked gasp as he collapsed to the floor.
"Hero boy thinks he can play soldier," Private Micheal spat.
Sergeant Daniel kicked him again—hard—curling him instinctively, forcing another strangled breath from his throat.
Habeel's ears ran g. His vision fractured into spinning lights. He tasted blood.
His mind whispered dizzily: My body… is just looking for an excuse to pass out. Great job, idiot.
Two soldiers grabbed him by the legs and dragged him out of the cabin like a sack of grain. Dirt scraped his back. His vision flickered.
Inside, he could barely make out two soldiers still with Ababeel.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Darkness took him.
The living room was chaos wrapped in comfort—bright lights from the TV flickering wildly as Habeel frantically mashed buttons on his controller. He sat on the edge of the sofa, legs tensed, trying to focus on the game while two of his tiny siblings kept bouncing around in front of the screen, blocking half of it with their little bodies.
One jumped, the other tried to yank the controller wire, and the third kept trying to climb onto his lap.
"QUIT FIGHTING, YOU TWO!" Habeel yelled, leaning to the side to see past them.
"Jeez—go away! I'm trying to win here!"
His siblings, of course, did not care. One made a loud dinosaur roar. Another poked the screen. The last one giggled like it was the funniest show on earth.
From the open kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes paused, and then—
His mother's warm, amused voice floated through the air.
"You'll miss it if they really did," she said with a gentle chuckle.
Habeel froze.
Slowly… very slowly… he took off his headphones.
His eyes narrowed, confusion growing into something tight and uncomfortable in his chest. His pulse began to race.
He turned toward the kitchen doorway.
His mother stood there, drying her hands with a dish towel, but her smile—
There was something sad behind it. Something distant.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.
A beat.
"Hey—wait… where are you going? Mom?"
He stepped forward.
"Wait!"
But she didn't answer.
The room suddenly dimmed—
The sounds of his siblings faded—
The colours around him washed away like ink dissolving in water—
Habeel gasped awake.
Cold soil under his cheek.Dampairr.Sunlight cutting through trees.
He blinked hard. His ribs screamed. His arm felt like shattered glass.
He pushed himself up, shaking violently.
"Ababeel…"
He staggered toward the shattered cabin door.
The scene inside froze him where he stood.
Three soldiers lay motionless.
Sergeant Daniel slumped against the wall, a bullet hole in his chest. Private Michael lay half across the table, head turned at a wrong angle. Corporal Leo sprawled near the doorway, eyes wide open but seeing nothing.
Smoke still curled lazily from the gun on the floor.
In the centre of it all—
Ababeel sat on the floorboards.
Her body was small against the ruin.
Her hair tangled. Her face was pale. Her shirt half-unbuttoned, trembling fingers trying and failing to fix it.
She stared at her hands like they belonged to someone else.
Her breath came in small, sharp jerks.
Habeel stepped inside, barely able to stand.
"Ababeel…?"
She looked up.
Her pupils were blown wide. Her expression was hollow, frozen, numb in a way that made his stomach drop.
She blinked once.
Twice.
"I… I didn't…" she whispered.
Her voice broke like thin glass.
"They tried to—they kept coming closer and—I told them no—but they didn't listen—I… I just grabbed the gun—I didn't think—I didn't want to—"
Her chest hitched violently. Her hands shook harder. She lifted them in front of her face, horrified.
"I didn't want to kill them.I didn't want to—I didn't know what else to do—I was so—so scared—"
Her voice dissolved.
She pressed her hands to her mouth, choking on broken sobs.
Habeel lowered himself to his knees—pain burning through him like fire—but he reached her.
Slow.Gentle.Careful.
He lifted his hand to button her shirt for her. His fingers trembled, but his touch was soft, steady.
When he spoke, his voice was a whisper wrapped in iron.
"Ababeel," he said."Look at me."
Her eyes met his.
Fear.Shock.Guilt.Pain.
He cupped her cheek with his shaking fingers.
"You did nothing wrong," he said softly."You hear me?"
A tear finally slipped down her cheek.
"You're safe now."
The lantern flickered weakly above them. Sunlight seeped into the broken cabin. Three dead soldiers lay cold on the floorboards.
Two teenagers—bloodied, shaking, clinging to whatever pieces of themselves they still had—knelt together in the centre of it all.
Bound by fear and survival.