CHAPTER 2 - The Lie That Saved Him

Yuna checked the vitals on the small monitor beside the cot, her fingers moving with practiced precision. The clinic had grown quiet; only the humming of old fluorescent lights and the distant whisper of rain filled the room. The man—Amir, as he called himself—sat silently, watching her with the kind of intensity that felt like a touch.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Yuna said, pulling off her gloves. “You should be resting. Not staring at me like I might steal something from you.”

Khalid—Amir—lifted an eyebrow. “You already stitched me up without asking questions. I’d say you’ve taken enough.”

“Please,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You think I enjoy saving reckless strangers at two in the morning?”

He studied her. The annoyance in her voice didn’t reach her eyes. Those held something else—concern she was pretending not to feel.

“Why didn’t you report me?” he asked softly.

Her expression faltered for a second. “Report you for what? Needing help?”

“That’s not what most people would think,” he said, leaning back, pain tugging at the edges of his composure. “A man walks in bleeding from a bullet, refusing to explain. Most doctors would call authorities first.”

Yuna shrugged. “I’m not most doctors. And you didn’t feel dangerous.”

He almost laughed. If she knew who he truly was—what hands like his had done—she would have run long before stitching him up.

“Amir… is that your real name?” she asked suddenly.

He paused. A second too long.

“It’s the one I’m using tonight,” he answered.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he admitted quietly, surprising even himself. “It’s not.”

Yuna sat on the stool beside him, her voice softer. “Everyone has things they don’t want to talk about. I won’t force you. Just don’t lie to me about your injuries. I need to know if you’re going to collapse on my floor.”

The sincerity in her tone struck him deeper than he expected. In his world, honesty was a weapon. Trust was suicide. But with her… he didn’t feel the instinct to hide behind walls. Not completely.

“I won’t collapse,” he promised.

“You already did,” she pointed out.

He smirked. “Only a little.”

Their eyes met. A brief, silent moment stretched between them—curious, fragile, and undeniably dangerous.

Then her phone buzzed. Yuna glanced at the screen and sighed. “My shift ended an hour ago. Great. I’m staying late because you decided to take a midnight stroll through bullets.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” he said, tone teasing.

“I’m going home,” Yuna said, grabbing her bag. “You rest. I’ll check your wound in the morning.”

“You’re letting me stay?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “You can’t walk around in your condition. And I don’t think you’re here to hurt me.”

He almost told her she was wrong. That he was the kind of danger she should fear. But her trust… he didn’t want to break it.

“Thank you, Doctor Yuna,” he said, voice low.

When she reached the door, she turned back. “Amir.”

“Yes?”

“Whatever trouble you’re in… don’t bring it here.”

His smile was gentle, but his shadowed eyes told another story.

“I’ll keep the darkness outside,” he said.

But he knew it was already following him—and she was now tangled in it.