wait here

I came home shortly after having dinner with him. We had a good time spent together, and in a short time, he became a good friend. The next day, it was the weekend, so I thought to just chill at home, watch some movies, and get plenty of rest to heal my mental health.

Two days passed, and I felt more relaxed than before. I was heading home from the library after a good study session with Shaan, but on the way back, I met Karim.

"Wait here..." Karim said abruptly.

I looked at him curiously. "Huh?"

He walked a short distance away, leaving me puzzled about what he intended to do. In the meantime, I leaned against the bridge railings, admiring the city view and the people milling about, boats coming and going on the water.

Karim returned after five minutes, holding something in his hands. He reached out and handed me a bouquet of purple flowers.

I stared at the flowers, a mixture of surprise and confusion washing over me. I couldn't put into words how I felt. No one had ever given me flowers, not even Harry. And it was the first time Karim had given me flowers. I felt happy and grateful.

"For me?" I asked, my voice tinged with emotion.

Karim nodded, a warm smile on his face.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Did you like them?" he asked, his tone gentle.

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, they're beautiful."

"I'm glad you like them," he replied softly.

We walked to the end of the street, and Karim asked, "How are things going?"

I sighed before explaining, "Well, I'm preparing for a job right now back in my country."

He smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll get one."

I smiled back, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Hopefully."

"How about you come to my country?" Karim suggested sincerely. "I will arrange it for you."

I looked at him, surprised. He teased, "Well, actually, you won't need to work. I will handle things."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I won't get the visa."

He looked at me, puzzled. "Why won't you get the visa? I can apply for you."

I shrugged and nodded in compliance. "Yes, yes, surely I will get the visa of Plora from the Istania government, since the one applying for it is an army officer of Plora!"

"Why? What's the problem?" he asked, genuinely confused.

I explained, "Did you forget about your reputation in Istonia?"

He pointed at himself. "Our reputation?"

"Yes, yours," I said, trying to make him understand.

"I think we are pretty good," he replied, seemingly oblivious.

I looked at him, speechless, wondering if he really didn't know or if he was faking it. "You forget our countries are enemies."

"We don't think so," he said calmly.

"Then why are there so many border fights, huh?" I asked, my frustration seeping through.

As I stood there, the stark contrast between what I had heard about his country and the man standing in front of me was striking. The reputation of his people, as portrayed by the news and stories I'd grown up with, was that of a fearsome adversary. Stories of aggression, conflict, and unyielding hostility had painted a picture of a nation that was to be feared and mistrusted. Yet, as I looked at Karim, none of that seemed to align with the person I had come to know. He was calm, kind, and considerate, not the embodiment of the fearsome reputation his country carried.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. It was confusing and unsettling to reconcile the two images in my mind—the one formed by years of exposure to media and the one formed by my personal interactions with Karim. He didn't look or feel scary to me; rather, he seemed almost divine in his kindness and sincerity.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I decided to steer the conversation away from the murky waters of politics. "Let's not talk about politics," I said, my tone softer now.

Karim looked thoughtful for a moment before agreeing. "Yes, let's not."

We continued walking in silence, the city lights reflecting off the water, creating a serene atmosphere. The air was cool, and the scent of the flowers in my hand mingled with the crisp night breeze.

"Thank you for the flowers," I said softly, breaking the silence.

Karim smiled. "You're welcome. I thought they might cheer you up."

"They did," I admitted. "It's been a while since someone did something nice for me."

He looked at me with a mixture of empathy and something else I couldn't quite place. "You deserve nice things," he said simply.

I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the cool night air. "That's sweet of you to say."

We reached a small park at the end of the street and decided to sit on a bench. The park was quiet, with only a few people strolling around. The moon was full, casting a soft glow over everything.

"So, tell me more about your plans," Karim said, genuinely interested.

"Well," I began, "I'm studying hard to get a job back home. It's not easy, but I'm determined."

He nodded. "I admire your determination."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a surge of pride. "What about you? How's life in Plora?"

Karim sighed. "It's complicated. Being an army officer isn't easy. There's a lot of responsibility, and sometimes it feels overwhelming."

I looked at him, understanding the weight of his words. "It must be tough."

"It is," he admitted. "But I believe in what I'm doing. I want to make a difference."

I admired his conviction. "That's commendable."

He smiled, looking a little bashful. "Thanks."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. It was a rare moment of peace in a world that often felt chaotic and uncertain.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Karim asked suddenly.

"All the time," I replied. "It's what keeps me going."

"Me too," he said softly. "Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if things were different. If our countries weren't at odds."

I looked at him, my heart aching at the thought. "It would be nice."

"Yes, it would," he agreed. "But for now, we can only hope and do our best to make things better."

I nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. Despite the political tension between our countries, we had found a way to connect on a personal level, and that felt important.

As the night wore on, we talked about everything and nothing. We shared stories from our pasts, dreams for the future, and everything in between. It was easy to open up to Karim, and I felt a sense of ease that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Eventually, it was time to part ways. We stood up from the bench, and I looked at him, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye.

"Thank you for tonight," I said sincerely. "I needed this."

"Me too," he replied. "Let's do it again sometime."

"I'd like that," I said with a smile.

We walked back to the bridge where we had first met, and Karim looked at me with a warm smile. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," I replied.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, moments like these reminded me that there was still beauty and kindness in the world. And that was something worth holding onto.

I walked home, the night air cool and crisp against my skin. The city lights flickered like distant stars, guiding my way through the quiet streets. It was already late when I reached my front door. As I fumbled with my keys and opened the door, a sense of unease settled over me. 

Stepping inside, I was startled to see someone sitting in the living room, someone who shouldn't be there. My heart pounded in my chest as taking the step back I immediately shut the door, thinking, "No... no! It must be the way I opened the door. He couldn't be here, there's no way he is here at this time."

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I opened the door again, hoping that my imagination had played tricks on me. But it wasn't my imagination. He was really there. Harry was sitting in my living room, his face a mask of barely contained anger.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady as I walked toward the living room.

Harry's eyes met mine, his anger evident. "You didn't reply to my messages," he said coldly.

I looked at him, then down at my phone. Sure enough, there were numerous unread messages from him: "Hello," "Reply?" "Where are you?" "Call me." But one message caught my eye, and anger boiled in my blood as I read it: "I am telling Iris that you're not replying to me. She will call you."

Who was Iris to tell me what to do? I clenched my fists, trying to control the rising tide of fury within me. "What the hell do you want?" I snapped.

Harry's expression softened for a moment before his anger returned. "I told you, I want you," he said, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of desperation and determination.

I took a step back, feeling a mix of confusion and fear. "You can't just come here and demand things, Harry. This is my home. You can't invade my space like this."