The house felt different that morning.
Not because anything had changed.
But because everything had.
Sibom woke up before the alarm. The pale light of dawn slipped through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft grey. For a few seconds, he forgot everything. The hospital. The blood. The police. Her voice.
Then it came back.
He sat up slowly, his chest tight.
His phone was still on the bedside table. No new messages.
No missed calls.
He picked it up anyway. Opened their chat.
Her last message was still there.
*"Trust me."*
He stared at it for a long time.
Trust.
It used to be easy.
Now it felt heavy.
---
His mother knocked on the door.
"Breakfast is ready."
Her voice was normal. Calm. As if nothing had happened.
Sibom washed his face, looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes looked older. Sharper. Like someone who had seen too much in one night.
He went downstairs.
His father was reading the newspaper.
"Sibom," he said without looking up, "you're not going to college today."
It wasn't a question.
Sibom stopped mid-step.
"Why?"
His father folded the paper carefully.
"Because the police might call again. And I don't want you outside until this settles."
"This won't settle," Sibom replied quietly.
His mother placed tea in front of him.
"It will," she said gently. "If you stay away from trouble."
Sibom almost laughed.
Trouble.
As if it was something he had chosen.
As if it wasn't chasing him.
---
Around noon, his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
His heartbeat spiked.
He answered.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice.
"Meet me."
It was her.
"Where?" he asked immediately.
"Same place."
The old railway bridge.
The place where they used to sit and talk about dreams.
The place where everything had begun.
And maybe where it would end.
---
The sky was cloudy when Sibom reached the bridge.
Wind moved through the tall grass below.
She was already there.
Standing near the edge.
Facing away.
Her hair moved in the wind, and for a second, he remembered the first time he had seen her here.
Laughing.
Carefree.
Now she looked fragile.
"Sibom," she said softly without turning around.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
She finally faced him.
Her eyes were tired. But steady.
"Because I didn't want you involved."
"I was already involved," he said. "The moment you called me that night."
She looked down.
"I didn't plan for it to happen."
"Then what happened?" he demanded.
Silence.
Wind.
A train horn in the distance.
She took a deep breath.
"He wasn't supposed to be there."
Sibom's throat went dry.
"Who?"
"My brother."
That word hit harder than he expected.
"Your brother?" he repeated.
She nodded.
"He found out about us."
Sibom felt the ground shift beneath him.
"What do you mean?"
"He didn't like it," she said quietly. "He thought you were… not good enough."
Sibom laughed bitterly.
"So he attacked me?"
"No," she said quickly. "He came to confront you. But things got out of control."
"Out of control?" Sibom's voice rose. "He had a knife."
She flinched.
"I didn't know he would bring that."
"And the blood?" he asked. "The hospital? The police?"
She closed her eyes.
"He got hurt."
Sibom stared at her.
"You mean…"
She nodded.
"He slipped. When he tried to push you. He fell on the rocks."
The memory flashed in Sibom's mind.
The chaos.
The shouting.
The sudden movement.
He remembered stumbling back.
He remembered someone falling.
He remembered blood.
But everything had been a blur.
"I didn't push him," Sibom said slowly.
"I know," she replied.
"But the police think I did."
She didn't answer.
That silence said everything.
---
"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" he asked.
"Because my father…" she stopped.
"What about your father?"
"He's already angry. If he knows my brother attacked you because of me…"
"He'll blame you," Sibom finished.
She nodded.
"He might even blame you more."
Sibom stepped back.
"So I'm just supposed to stay quiet?"
"No."
"Then what?"
She walked closer.
"I'll tell them."
"When?"
"Soon."
"That's not good enough," he said.
She looked at him, and for the first time, fear showed clearly in her eyes.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "My family is powerful. They can twist the story. If I speak without thinking, they might destroy you."
Destroy you.
The words echoed.
Sibom suddenly understood something.
This wasn't just about a fight.
It was about control.
Power.
Reputation.
And he was the weakest piece on the board.
---
"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Protecting them."
Her voice cracked.
"They're still my family."
"And what am I?"
The question hung between them.
She didn't answer immediately.
Finally, she said, "You're the only person who ever saw me."
That hurt more than anything else.
Because it sounded like goodbye.
---
A train passed under the bridge, loud and shaking the ground.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she reached into her bag.
She pulled out something small.
A silver chain.
The one he had given her months ago.
"I can't wear this right now," she said.
He didn't take it.
"I don't want it back."
"You have to," she whispered. "If someone sees…"
Sibom took the chain slowly.
It felt cold in his hand.
Just metal.
But it carried memories.
Smiles.
Late night calls.
Secrets.
Dreams.
"All of this," he said, "for one night."
She looked at him.
"That night changed everything."
"Yes," he said. "But not the way we wanted."
---
"I need time," she said finally.
"To fix this."
"And if you can't?"
She swallowed.
"Then you have to move on."
The words felt like a punch.
Move on.
As if it was that simple.
As if he could erase her from his heart like deleting a message.
Sibom looked at the sky.
Clouds were gathering darker now.
Rain was coming.
"I trusted you," he said.
"I know."
"And I still do."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"But trust isn't enough anymore."
She nodded slowly.
"I understand."
---
The first drop of rain fell.
Then another.
Within seconds, it started pouring.
Neither of them moved.
Rain mixed with tears, but it was impossible to tell which was which.
"This might be the last time we meet like this," she said.
Sibom forced a small smile.
"Under a bridge, in the rain? Very dramatic."
She almost laughed.
Almost.
"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered.
"You didn't."
"Yes, I did."
He shook his head.
"No. The situation did."
For a brief second, they stood close.
Not touching.
But close enough to feel each other's presence.
Like two people standing at the edge of something that could have been forever.
---
Her phone rang.
She glanced at it.
"I have to go."
Of course she did.
There was always something pulling her away.
She took a step back.
Then another.
Before turning around, she said one last thing.
"Whatever happens… that night was real. Don't let anyone make you believe it wasn't."
Then she walked away.
Sibom didn't stop her.
He didn't call her name.
He just stood there in the rain, holding a silver chain.
Feeling the silence grow heavier.
---
When he finally left the bridge, something inside him had changed.
He wasn't just confused anymore.
He was determined.
If the truth was being hidden, he would find it.
If power was being used against him, he would learn to fight back.
He didn't know how yet.
But he would.
Because one night had taken everything from him.
And he wasn't ready to lose more.
As he walked home through the rain-soaked streets, the world felt colder.
But his heart felt clearer.
Whatever came next, he wouldn't run.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew—
The real story of that night had not been fully told.
And when it finally was, nothing would ever be the same again.