The Night Bleeds Quietly

It was past midnight when Anika’s eyes snapped open.

She didn’t know why at first. There had been no loud sound, no sudden noise. Just a shift in the air — like the apartment itself had taken a sharp breath. Her room was dark, but she could hear something. The faint squeak of hinges. The subtle click of a door locking.

She got up silently, bare feet touching the cold floor as she crept toward the door.

Through the small gap, she saw him.

Rayan.

Soaked from head to toe, his hoodie clinging to him. He peeled it off wordlessly, tossing it onto the armrest of the couch. Beneath, his dark T-shirt was torn at the side… and stained.

Blood.

Anika’s breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the doorknob, but her heart pushed her forward.

She opened the door fully. “You’re hurt.”

Rayan’s head turned slowly. His eyes met hers across the dimly lit room — sharp and unreadable.

“It’s not mine,” he said, voice low and calm.

“That doesn’t make it better,” she shot back before she could stop herself.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he moved toward the kitchen, opening a drawer and pulling out a first-aid box like it was second nature. Like this was routine.

“You’ve done this before,” Anika whispered.

Rayan popped the cap of a disinfectant bottle. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

She stepped into the living room. “What if I do want answers?”

He paused mid-motion, then turned slightly toward her. His grey eyes were unreadable, but his expression was hard. “Go back to sleep, Anika.”

But she didn’t move.

“I may not know what world you live in,” she said quietly, “but I’m living under your roof. You can’t just pretend I don’t see this.”

He scoffed faintly, shaking his head as he wiped the blood. “Seeing and understanding aren’t the same.”

“Then help me understand,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Please.”

Silence stretched between them. The buzz of the fridge, the hum of the city through the walls — everything felt louder.

Then, finally, Rayan said, “Sometimes, people like me… we do what others can’t. Because someone has to.”

She took a slow breath. “Is that what tonight was?”

“I don’t explain what I do,” he said. “That’s one of the rules.”

Anika walked forward, stopping just a foot away from him. She took the first-aid kit from his hand and knelt before him. “Then don’t explain. Just let me help.”

His eyes widened slightly — not with surprise, but something else. Something quiet. Hesitant.

She gently lifted his shirt to expose the wound. It was a deep scrape — likely from a blade or a sharp corner. Not life-threatening, but ugly.

He winced when the antiseptic touched it.

“You don’t flinch when someone pulls a knife on you,” she murmured, “but you twitch when I dab cotton.”

He gave a short breath of laughter. “Cotton’s more honest.”

That made her smile despite herself. The tension between them thinned, just a little.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said, not looking up.

“You should be.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’m not. Maybe I should be scared of what you’re involved in. But you? No.”

Rayan stared at her for a moment, then looked away — as if her words were too much, or maybe too close to something he tried to keep buried.

After a few more minutes, the wound was cleaned and dressed.

“There,” she said, standing. “Now stop bleeding all over your furniture.”