The night sky had long draped its dark velvet cloak over the city as the wedding festivities began to thin out. Laughter echoed from the hall, lights flickered in golden hues, and the music was now faint — more background than celebration. Zara stood near the entrance, her phone in hand, nervously glancing at the screen every few seconds.
No signal.
She walked a little further, trying to get a bar. Nothing.
Her friends were slowly being picked up by their parents or relatives. One by one, they waved goodbye and disappeared into the night. Only a few people remained, including her friend Alia, now draped in her bridal red, glowing with post-wedding joy, and a few close friends tidying up.
Zara's chest tightened. There was no cab service available this late. Her phone still couldn't connect. She looked around, unsure of what to do.
Alia noticed her unease and walked over, heels clicking softly on the marble floor. "Still here? Don't tell me you don't have a ride."
Zara gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I was hoping to book one, but…" She showed the signal-less screen.
Alia bit her lip, glanced around, and then her eyes paused. A familiar face stood near the exit, speaking quietly to someone on the phone. His presence was commanding, the way he stood still while the world moved around him. Rayyan.
Without hesitation, Alia turned to Zara. "Wait here."
Before Zara could protest, Alia walked up to Rayyan. "Hey, Mr. Rayyan?"
He turned, slightly surprised, but polite. "Yes?"
"I know this is unusual, but one of my closest friends, Zara, has no way to get back home. It's gotten really late, and… could you drop her? Please? You're heading out anyway, right?"
He blinked. "Zara?" The name sparked something in his chest. That girl.
"I don't think we've—" he began, but Alia cut in, "Just wait a second, I'll bring her."
Rayyan watched as Alia rushed back and pulled a hesitant Zara forward.
"Zara, this is Rayyan. He can drop you home. Don't worry—he's safe," Alia added with a teasing wink.
Zara nodded, polite but unsure. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. Rayyan, however, was certain — it was her. The girl from earlier. The one whose eyes had pulled at something inside him.
They walked to the car together. He opened the passenger door like a gentleman, and she slid in, thanking him softly.
The car was sleek, dark, and smelled faintly of leather and cedar.
"I really appreciate this," Zara said once the engine hummed to life.
"No problem. It's not safe to be out so late alone," he said, eyes on the road.
"I'm Zara. I'm in my final year at —" she paused and smiled, "Velmoré Institute of Design and Architecture."
"Velmoré?" he echoed, impressed. "That's a tough one to get into."
"You know about it?" she asked, curious.
He smirked, keeping his gaze forward. "A bit."
"And you?" she asked. "Where do you work?"
"Tech sector," he said vaguely. "Let's just say… long hours, too many emails."
She chuckled. "That's one way to describe it."
They continued to talk — casually, lightly. She told him about her upcoming internship. "Day after tomorrow, actually. We haven't received the placement details yet, but I'm nervous. I hope it's not some boring site survey."
"Maybe you'll be surprised," he murmured cryptically.
She laughed. "I'm just hoping they don't throw me in a construction pit."
He smiled but remained mysterious. "Maybe you'll end up somewhere more… interesting."
Their conversation drifted from studies to cities, favorite food, books, and even movies. It was lighthearted — nothing too deep — just the kind of talk that helped time pass quietly and meaningfully. Neither of them probed too much. Neither knew they'd soon become far more than strangers sharing a ride.
As they neared her apartment, the lights grew fewer, shadows deeper.
Then, without warning, Zara went still.
Her voice dropped. "Stop the car."
Rayyan hit the brake immediately. "What?"
Her eyes were fixed outside the window. Her face had gone pale.
He followed her gaze.
A tall, black figure stood beneath a flickering streetlamp at the far end of the block. Unmoving. Watching.
"Who is that?" Rayyan asked, voice low and protective.
Zara shook her head slightly, fear clouding her eyes. "I—I don't know… but…"
But something in her knew. Something in her bones trembled.
The figure didn't move. The lamp buzzed. And in a second, the light went out — casting the figure in complete darkness.
Rayyan opened his door.
"Wait," she said, holding his wrist. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Don't go out…"