Chapter 7: Hands That Remember

*It was supposed to be a perfect day.*

Sunshine. Laughter. A shopping trip, followed by a short picnic at the lakeside garden. Asha and Rachel filled the air with chatter and selfies. Karma walked beside them, quiet as always, holding the bags, watching over them.

Rachel teased him. "You really are husband material, huh?"

He only smiled.

The peace felt real.

But peace never lasts.

Back Street — 7:18 PM

They were taking a shortcut back home. Empty street. Shuttered shops. No people.

That's when it happened.

Three men stepped out from behind a parked van. Eyes wild. Faces unshaven. One of them had a crowbar. Another had a switchblade.

"Well, well," the leader sneered, eyes locked on Asha and Rachel. "Looks like today's our lucky day."

Rachel stepped back, whispering, "Asha…"

The man with the knife grinned. "Purse. Phone. Jewelry. And maybe we have some fun with the ladies after."

Karma stepped in front of them, calm.

"No."

The men laughed.

"You deaf, pretty boy? We said—"

But they never finished that sentence.

Then Karma Moved.

No warning. No hesitation.

He stepped in.

Too fast.

His body dropped low, like water slipping through a crack, and he twisted the crowbar man's wrist so hard it broke with a sickening crack.

The man screamed — but Karma had already turned.

The second attacker lunged with a knife.

Karma caught his wrist mid-air.

Twisted.

Knife dropped.

Karma kicked his knee sideways. The man collapsed before his mind caught up to the pain.

The last thug tried to run—

But Karma was already behind him.

He slammed the man into the wall with a single strike, using only the flat of his palm — perfectly timed, perfectly placed.

Silence.

Three men on the ground.

None of them could move.

Rachel's mouth hung open.

Asha was frozen.

Karma stood over them, chest rising slightly. Hands relaxed. Eyes blank.

Like he'd just taken a breath.

Not fought three men.

"W-What the hell was that…?" Rachel whispered.

Karma turned slowly.

"I… don't know," he said softly.

His voice didn't match the violence they just saw.

But Asha looked at his hands — steady, calm, unshaking.

Those weren't the hands of a man who panicked.

They were the hands of a man who's done this before.

Too many times.

Later That Night

Karma sat on the bed, silent.

Asha knelt in front of him. "Where did you learn that?"

He shook his head. "It just… happened."

She stared at him. "You moved like you've done it your whole life."

He looked at his own hands.

"I think I have."

"The body doesn't lie. When memory fails, instinct speaks truth louder than words."*