I was never strong.
Not in body.
Not in courage.
Not even in voice.
When people pushed me, I stepped back.
When they laughed, I stayed silent.
When life tested me, I failed quietly.
But there was one person who never stepped back—
Ayan.
"Why do you always look at the ground?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"The world isn't going to attack you for looking up."
I forced a smile. "Easy for you to say."
Ayan laughed—loud, careless, fearless.
He always laughed like the world belonged to him.
He trusted people easily. Too easily.
He called strangers "brother," believed promises without proof, and stood by his friends without hesitation.
And once he accepted you…
his loyalty was absolute.
"Don't worry," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"As long as I'm here, no one touches you."
I knew he meant it.
Everyone did.
Because Ayan wasn't quiet.
He spoke when things were wrong.
He stood up when others ran.
And if someone betrayed him—
He didn't shout.
He didn't beg.
He simply erased them from his world.
I often wondered why someone like him stayed with someone like me.
Weak.
Afraid.
Invisible.
Maybe that's why this story isn't about how he fell—
It's about how I was forced to rise
when the strongest person I knew finally trusted the wrong person.