Chapter 24- I am losing myself

Chapter 24

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out as he stumbled to his feet.

He’d wiped out making a turn near a traffic light on our way to the convenience store. Dusting himself off, he pulled off his helmet. "Nothing major."

But his jeans were torn at the knee, and fresh scratches streaked his arm, bleeding steadily. I grabbed his wrist, my grip tight with frustration. "And this?"

"Didn’t notice," he muttered, yanking his arm back. "Let’s keep going. I need to be home soon."

"Quick stop first," I insisted, strapping my helmet on. Hypocrite. He always nagged me to wear knee guards, yet never bothered with his own.

Inside the store, I grabbed disinfectant and bandages while he browsed drinks. We settled on the concrete outside, cracking open Cokes. Without a word, I took his hand and cleaned the cuts. He watched, silent but compliant, as I wrapped the gauze. Then I tore open a bag of chips and handed it to him.

No words were needed. The way he looked at me—like I’d hung the moon—said enough. We ate, marking our phones for the main event in two days.

I couldn’t name the emotion clawing at my chest, but one thing was clear: Zain had turned me into the villain. The kind who’d strip him of everything, just as he’d done to me. But it didn’t feel like revenge. No satisfaction, no healing—just guilt. I’d seen his sacrifices: the breakdowns, the grueling training, the years spent clawing toward fame. To dismantle it now? The thought sickened me. People might call it karma, but I knew the truth—this pain would destroy us both.

Zain, our love and hate have collided into war. You may have won every battle, but the Qadira you hurt? She fights dirty.

---

"If you had to choose between Zain and me, who would you pick?" Zayd asked suddenly.

I nearly choked on my drink. "What kind of question is that?"

"The real question is why you always dodge them."

"You ask things that don’t matter."

"Just curious," he said, shrugging.

He filled his tank and vanished into the restroom while I checked my tire pressure. We rode home in silence, no goodnight texts.

Back home, I found Zain in the kitchen with our mothers. I mumbled greetings, desperate to escape, but his mother offered biscuits. I took one, sitting stiffly beside her.

The air thickened as Mom ushered the adults into her office, leaving Zain and me with a plate of half-eaten cookies.

"Please," he whispered, shoving a biscuit into my mouth. "Not today. I’m exhausted."

"You reek of cigarettes," I shot back, grabbing another.

"You’re hallucinating."

I yanked the pack from his pocket, pointing to the burn on his arm. "You can lie to everyone else, Zain. Not me. This isn’t how you cope."

"Then how?" he snapped.

"What happened to your biking?"

"It’s just… noise now." He dropped a half-eaten biscuit, crumbling it between his fingers.

"I can’t fix you," I said, standing. "I need answers too."

"Come for a ride with me." He stood abruptly. "Might help."

"If you knew who I was, you’d never ask. Besides, I already rode today."

"With Zayd ?" His jaw twitched.

"Gold star for deduction."

I fled to the shower, scrubbing until my skin burned. When I collapsed into bed, my mind circled back to Zain—my insomnia, my curse. And maybe, just maybe, my cure.

---

A knock jarred me awake hours later. Zain slipped in, sinking to the floor beside my bed.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. If Mom found him here at this hour, I’d be skinned alive.

Moonlight from my desk lamp caught the tears on his face. He didn’t speak—just sat there, shoulders shaking.

"Qadira…" He sucked in a ragged breath. "Why does it hurt like this?"

"Like what?" I grabbed the tissue box, crouching beside him.

"Why come to me when I told you to stay away?"

"Because you don’t hate me," he whispered, smiling weakly.

"How do you know?"

"If you did, you wouldn’t look at me like that. Or patch me up without thinking."

"Bad habit," I muttered.

"Hope it never breaks." His voice cracked. "You were the only real thing in my life. Let me be messy. Loved. Now? I’d rather you hate me openly than pretend I’m nothing."

I edged closer, cupping his face. "One day, these memories won’t hurt. You’ll see me as just another rival. And if I stayed now? It’d destroy me more than you."

"I know we’re over." He pressed my palm to his lips. "But I’ll plant every moment with you in my heart and let it grow. The Zain you see tomorrow… forgive him. He’s drowning."

Then he was gone.

I slumped against the door, arms locked around my chest. Numb. My heart had flatlined.