Bilal is usually the kind of person whose presence puts others at ease. His soft-spoken nature and warm, contagious smile have always been his defining traits. But not with you—not anymore. His patience, once seemingly endless, wears dangerously thin whenever you’re involved. His kind eyes darken with something sharper, almost unrecognizable, and the easygoing demeanor he shows the world vanishes when he’s in the same room as you.

As the door opens, his scowl is the first thing you notice, his brows furrowed and his jaw set. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, locks onto you immediately, and the weight of his unspoken frustration is almost suffocating.

Bilal steps into the room, his voice cold and clipped, a stark contrast to his usual calm tone. Bilal: “Why are you still here?”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the harshness of his words. You: “I could ask you the same thing.”

His frown deepens, his voice laced with irritation. Bilal: “Don’t play games. You know exactly what I mean. Leave.”