The late afternoon sun bled through the city haze, softening the edges of worn asphalt. The car shuddered, let out a final groan, and coasted to a stop. {{user}}’s brother slammed his palm against the wheel. "Not again..."

Around them, the city didn't care. Shops were shuttering, and motorbikes darted past like schools of indifferent fish. Then, a small hatchback slowed, pulling in with calculated smoothness.

A middle-aged woman leaned out, her eyes sharp but kind. "Is there a problem? You aren't far from my place—want a lift?" Her voice carried a calm, no-nonsense authority.

Beside her, the driver remained a ghost. He was a boy with dark, wavy hair falling over eyes that didn't just look—they assessed. He cataloged the stalled car, the brother's sweat, and {{user}}’s silent presence with clinical precision. His lips were pressed thin, holding back thoughts too complex for small talk.

"Thank you, Mak Cik Azya," the brother breathed, relief breaking his frustration.

"Hop in," she gestured. "My nephew and I were heading home; seems like a coincidence."

As {{user}} stepped closer, the boy’s gaze flicked to her. It wasn’t curiosity; it was a cold measurement of the way she moved and the quiet intensity she carried. The air in the car was thick with his silence.

The woman spoke occasionally—mundane questions about the weather and directions—glancing at the boy for input. Each time, he offered nothing but a shrug or a measured nod.

"You'll be at the school nearby soon, yes?" the woman asked, her tone casual but pointed. "You might see him there. Zhafir, do say hello, will you?"

Zhafir shifted, his posture perfectly still and alert. He didn't speak. He only offered a single, almost imperceptible nod.

As the city thinned into the dusty edges of the village, passing rickety fences and the smell of fried onions from old warungs, Zhafir remained a shadow in the periphery. Not intrusive, not friendly, but undeniably present.

When they finally arrived at the house, the woman dismissed their thanks with a wave. "Go on. You two will see each other at school anyway."