It was night. I called him.

— I want to speak to you.

I made an appointment to meet him alone.

Since it was going to take some time, the meeting was set to Saturday after work. He suggested we meet at her home, but I rejected. I had no good memories there.

Hence, he suggested a park on a hill. It was the park where his father had fallen. I responded right away.

— Got it.

Of course I was wary because he chose that park of all places, but my interest in the view from there won.

Come to think of it, he was not in the least surprised by my sudden request. He even accepted it readily.

I guess he had expected that day to come.

No, that wasn't quite right.

He had been waiting for it with anticipation.

That's what his cheerful voice sounded like—as if talking about a date.

It was a moonlit night.

A golden moon hung in the sky, reigning over the stars like their king, and lit the earth with light so strong one almost forgot what time it was.

The park was situated a few minutes' walk past Jamal's home.

By the time the viridian green fence of the park came into view, my breath was so wild and faint that I expected to faint at any moment.

I checked the time on my watch. It was just past eleven, which was reasonable because I had returned home once, taken a shower and put on a change of clothes.

Well, I had wanted to go to the park right after finishing work, but Jamal had stopped me.

He insisted on a neat appearance for our first date.

Leaving aside the essential fact that this wasn't a date, I had accepted his suggestion. And it had been the right thing to do.

I had needed some time to draw a line between me and my everyday life.

I reached the entrance of the park. It was nothing special; just a small space with some trees and playground equipment sparsely scattered about. The only object that stood out was a white wooden clock tower near the cliff.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Fresh air filled my lungs. I slowly exhaled, checked my left breast pocket for the last time, and entered the park.

"—I was about to get tired of waiting."

I squinted my eyes in the direction of the voice.

"But I ought to be thankful that you came properly, right?"

When I grasped his figure with my eyes, I couldn't help but hold my breath. A plain black Jamal was sitting on the top of the red jungle-gym.

"Wearing all white truly suits you, Gabriella"

I was indeed clad all in white.

Jamal chuckled "But that is exactly what I expected, so I matched my clothes to yours and dressed myself all in black."

Hee wore a black jacket and trouser with a white shirt under his jacket.

"Shall we start our date, then?"

Jamal crossed his legs and leaned on his elbow, his head slightly tilted.

It was a dreamlike scene. I quickly shook my head to rid it of the impression.

"...the day after you asked me to go out with you, you said that it was necessary for both of us to deepen our mutual understanding, right?" I began

"Yes," he nodded.

"You also said that it was fine for me to make a decision after we had come to know each other better, right?"

"Yes," he squinted an eye.

"Unfortunately, I still don't understand you very well. We're still quite far from a date."

"What exactly do you want to know from me then?" He asked softly.

—"Everything," I almost answered. But judging by his confident smile, there was only one thing to say.

"You killed him, didn't you?"

The next moment, he leaped from the top of the jungle-gym into the dark blue sky.

"What am I going to hear from you now?"

"Well, you could call it," I pretended to ponder and continued with my usual poker face, "the solution of the riddle called Jamal."

Unperturbed, Jamal kept smiling like always.

"I see, that seems much more interesting than a date."

But that's how I wanted him to be; my worthy adversary.

At one time I had come to the conclusion that Jamal had not killed anyone because I was sure that he wouldn't do something that foolish.

However, the situation had made a sudden turn with the appearance of a man of outstanding perspicacity. It didn't take long until my theory was negated due to several doubtful aspects and contradictions brought to light by mr Ijapa one after another.

In a sense, it had been inevitable for my doubts to be revived, considering how well I knew him and that the murder plan was in my hands.

One might ask why I had concluded that he was absolutely innocent in the first place.

It is true that I had had several clues that suggested that his father was guilty, like the fact that the murder plan had been written by him. However, at the same time I had also been aware that those clues did not necessarily prove Jamal's innocence.

I myself had been the decisive factor in my belief of his innocence.

Only now I realized that I had probably strongly wished that he wasn't a murderer back then. One could say that my imagination was steered that way because I didn't want to lose the person I was so interested in.

In other words, what made him innocent had been my own desire.

I sat down on a railing, while he got on a blue swing.

I started explaining to him one reason after another why I doubted him.

The suspiciously well-timed call from the gym, the fact that his mobile phone had been set to silent mode, his unnatural behavior when getting me a towel instead of starting the search for his mother, and the fact that the suicide note was written not by hand but on the computer. Furthermore, I told him about my hypothesis that he had wanted to make me the finder of that suicide note.

Jamal quietly listened to my explanation and nodded once in a while without denying or acknowledging anything.

When at last he had heard me out, he let his gaze wander in the night sky, seeming deep in thought, before he asked with certainty, "Did you borrow those theories from that detective?"

I nodded. As he had guessed, most of my arguments had appeared in the conversations with mr Ijapa.

"But I agree with them, so you can think of them as my own opinion."

Jamal put on a surprised expression.

"That's the sort of thing you spoke about in my absence?" He scowled at me and pursed his lips slightly. "How mean! Do both of you doubt me?"

"No," I shook my head. "Mr. Ijapa has nothing to do with it anymore. I'm the only one doubting you."

He gasped in admiration, "It is really surprising that the detective stopped doubting me despite seeming so tenacious. What magic did you use, Gabriella?"

"It's all thanks to the hint you gave me," I beat around the bush and saved myself from mentioning the "Love plan".

'If you want to know what he thinks, just think about what you would do in his case!'

As a matter of fact, if not for those words, I probably would have still been at a loss for what to do about Mr Ijapa.

"Oh, did I happen to be a help?" smiled Jamal. His soft glance resembled a gentle brother's who rejoiced over one of his little sister's accomplishments.

Which caused me to let out a deep, heavy sigh.

"...I see... so he did give me a hint," I thought to myself.

Considering how he had immediately realized that I was borrowing Ijapa's words, he had probably been perfectly aware of mr. Ijapa and me doubting him all along.

With that in mind, he seemed like a truly cunning actor, reconsidering the evening when we were thrown out by Emma; his blatantly offensive attitude towards me hadn't been normal at all, and the way he had brought up Mr. Ijapa had been rather unnatural as well.

I stopped counting, but as it seemed, he had been playing with me again. I had to admit it: he was a much better actor than I.

Because I was keeping quiet, he tilted his head slightly, "Mh?"

There had been no creaks in his smile from beginning to end. Despite me having labeled him a "murderer".

His smile was something like a trademark. In the mind of everyone else, Jamal was probably depicted as an ever-smiling holy man.

That was, however, not the Jamal I wanted to see. Right now I was brooding over how I might freeze that smile of his.

My fingers automatically groped for my left breast pocket.

"...right, there's something I want to give you."

There was no way around using 'it' after all. I slid my hand into my jacket.

What I produced was a four times folded scrap of paper. "What's this?" Jamal asked while snatching it away from me.

I watched Jamal look down at the unfolded sheet.

With his gaze still cast down, he whispered, "...I am happy about anything you give me, but this is not exactly a thoughtful present."

"I can't help it: it's not a present, after all. I'm merely returning something to its owner," I didn't avert my gaze from him, "It's yours, isn't it?"

I stared him in the eyes, not daring to breath or even blink. It's fair to say that I had protected this solely for this very moment. By no means I wanted to miss his reaction to it.

He raised his head with a smile shaped like a crescent moon.

"Yes, it is!" He admitted surprisingly readily.

"Then let's now talk about this—'murder plan'."

This was the trump card I had successfully protected from mr. Ijapa.

He laughed dryly, "So there is no way around it after all, is there? Well, of course you would never miss out on such an 'intriguing subject', right?"

At first glance, Jamal was the same as always.

"Truth to be told, I would rather not, but I might be able to answer your expectations if that is your wish. But in return, promise me—"

But I asked myself: did he realize the slight change that had come over him?

"—that you won't hate me. Okay?"

He was smiling as usual, but her eyes were serious.

I was observing a side of Jamal that nobody knew. It felt as though I had come a step closer to her. Of course, though, I was not at all satisfied with just that.

I wanted to see more of his unknown side.

But no need to rush things; there was more than enough time until sunrise.

"...You knew it all along, right?"

"What?"

"That the murder plan had come into my hands."

I had always had a hunch. After all, he had suddenly asked me to go out with him even though we had not spoken to each other much, save for greetings. He had approached me shortly after I had obtained the murder plan.

But it was only now that I was convinced. His poor reaction proved that he was not surprised at all.

Jamal raised and lowered his brow multiple times in hesitation.

"I had noticed, yes," he nodded calmly at last. "Do you remember what happened in the classroom the morning after I lost the plan?"

I recalled the morning in question to mind as he told me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"That morning you addressed me, Gabriella. Much to my surprise. Therefore, I thought about the reason for that. It didn't take long until I found the answer."

"...So I dug my own grave, huh," I covered my face with my palms in embarrassment.

What a fool I had been for revealing myself! I had been unable to suppress my curiosity and addressed him that morning, but indeed, it was not normal for me to do so with our relationship at the time.

I shook my head fiercely to get rid of stray thoughts, took a deep breath and continued as composedly as I could manage.

"...When I first obtained the murder recipe," I proceeded with the subject as if to bury the mistake I had committed, "I thought that you had written it. I didn't even doubt that the owner was equivalent to the author. The word 'plan', however, has been bothering me since then."

Only my voice resounded throughout the moonlit park.

"But when I learned that your father was a teacher at a gym instructor, I realized that the word 'plan' was probably very common to him, work out plan, diet plan and the likes—and sure enough, your father had written it. A handwritten note of his, which I presumed to borrow from your home, matched the handwriting of the plan."

"You never fail to live up to my expectations, Gabriella," he interjected and closed his mouth again.

A meaningful statement, to be sure, but no denial of what I had said.

"Anyway, for that matter I want to ask why your father's plan was in your possession?"

I leaned a little forward to sneak a peek at his expression.

"It was shortly after I started school when I found his plan purely by chance—"

It was calm and musing.

"—I realized right away who my father meant to kill."

"Your mother."

"Yes. By the way, this is not the only murder plan; there are more of them. Perhaps, there are even some I haven't found yet."

"...I didn't expect that." I was intrigued to read those as well.

"I think my father didn't realize that I knew about those plans until the very end. I kept it a secret from him."

"What were your thoughts about it? What did you intend to do after you had obtained the plans?"

"Well..."

While gazing vacantly in the air, he brushed away his hair beside the ear with his finger. Probably, he was searching for the right words.

"...when I first read the plan, I was surprised that he also had such an 'ugly' face."

I found myself staring at him.

"I knew him as a woman who would always pay attention to his appearance and behavior."

"...that's quite hard to imagine from the impression I got from him during the funeral ceremony."

The howling image of his broken father soothed by a black-dressed Jamal flashed up in my mind. I was disturbed by how my fragile image of him crumbled to dust.

"I do not know what you imagined him to have been like, but you should not forget whose father he was," Jamal put on a smile appropriate to adorn the cover of a fashion magazine, "He was my father."

Like son, like father? No, the proper order would be "Like father, like son"? Either way, the moment I thought about it in that way, it was surprisingly easy to have a new image of him. By analogy, the same must have applied to his mother as well.

Jamal was at a loss for words. Of course he was. A few moments before, he had stated that he could have never imagined his father writing something like that.

"If hypothetically that plan worked out favorably, wouldn't it indeed look like a 'mishap'?"

"That is an amusing alternative way of thinking about it," he nodded in a impressed tone.

I continued, "I know of one incident that virtually proves my hypothesis—"

"—the accident of my father, right?" He answered before I could finish.

"...you admit it?"

I was a little startled at his unexpected reaction.

"What is there to deny? It is only natural that one would harbor doubts about that accident even having read the plan only once."

He shook the sheet beside his head, holding it with his fingertips.

I finally noticed what it was that might have been bothering me about him.

"Until I found the plan, I had no idea that my father had a such an impetuous side. I suppose that his motive was jealousy — even though my parents didn't care about each other — because my mother apparently had a mistress. Yes, she was a lesbian. She probably only married him to keep up appearances. Maybe he just couldn't accept it that she had a partner other than him. In that sense, men might generally be more jealous than women. You should be careful too, Gabriella."

I raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. He probably thought that was a good joke.

Even though it was about his father, about his family, I sensed a kind of distance in him indifferent tone. As if he wasn't concerned. As if he was talking about some rumors from the neighborhood.

My conviction deepened.

"I can't help but see you as the murderer of your parents," I said frankly, whereupon Jamal sneered at me.

"Even though I have no reason?"

He cocked her head while maintaining his smile.

"It's not like I'm paying no heed to your motive. I'm very interested actually. But if I look at it from a perspective that solely deals with whether it's possible or not — I have long since come to the conclusion that you could do it."

Jamal narrowed his eyes to a crescent moon-like form for a second.

"You have already admitted that what's written in the murder recipe rather closely resembles the traffic accident of your mother. Now, if it was not an unlucky accident but a willfully committed incident, it couldn't possibly be carried out by someone who hadn't read the plan, right?"

Jamal put his chin on his hand and probed me with his gaze.

"Or, put the other way round, it could only be carried out by someone who has read the plan, right?"

I closed my eyes and took a breath.

"I know of exactly three persons who read the recipe before the accident of your mother occurred. Firstly, the author of the plan, your father. Secondly, I, of course, because I obtained it by chance, and finally—"

I pointed at the report sheet he held in his hand.

"—the person who lost the recipe—You."

Jamal remained wordless.

"I am convinced that you could have carried out such a plan, no matter how cheap and unrefined it was."

He broke his silence and motionlessness with a whisper.

"...do you know how I am feeling?"

"If I were able to understand your feelings so easily, I wouldn't be dancing to your tune all the time." I said bitterly.

"I am really moved right now. I feel so much love from you because you understand me so much, though you are probably going to say I am wrong, with your usual cold tone."

"You're wrong." I fulfilled his request with an extra large topping of coldness.

He really made no sense to me. Even though I had accused him of murder, he smiled without change, neither provoked nor alarmed. His unaffected behavior almost made me think that he might not be hiding anything after all.

Was it absolute self-confidence that loomed behind that composure of his? Was he confident to ward off any accusations I could throw at him?

This isn't enough. Unless I delve deeper and break her shell from the inside, I will never see what I seek.

"...something has been bothering me almost from the beginning," I began, "Aren't you entirely too objective toward your own parents? You're as calm as if you were talking about complete strangers."

Jamal put on a slightly doubtful expression.

"Do you think so? I'm twenty and not of the age to be dependent on my parents anymore, am I not? Isn't the distance between parents and young adult quite similar in other households?"

I immediately objected strongly, "No, it isn't."

Jamal sealed his mouth and scowled at me.

"Oh come on, there's clearly something strange. I mean, your father was drawing up a plan to kill your mother! If you're a family, you'd normally try to stop him, wouldn't you?" I said

Jamal widened his eyes for an instant.

"Do you know why my first question was about your actions after finding the plan? It's because I hoped you would say that you wanted to discourage him. But you only voiced your thoughts on the contents of the plan—"

He opened his mouth slightly, wanting to say something.

"—did you even once think about stopping him?"

The helpless expression Jamal showed that moment was a clearer answer than any words could have been.

"While you had a rather blank relationship with your parents without doubt, strangely enough there are no indications that you were on bad terms with them either."

Reconsidering the many reactions I had gotten from Jamal in the past, I found that he was notunconcerned about the loss of his "community", known as family. After losing his parents, he had seemed very fragile from time to time. I was convinced that he had by no means wished to lose his family.

"You found them uninteresting, didn't you?"

That's what I thus concluded.

If I was forced to talk about something that didn't interest me, I assume that I would speak with a certain distance as well.

"...rather than saying that I had no interest, it would be appropriate to say that there was no need for us to be interested in each other," he muttered. "I didn't hate my parents, you know? Honestly. It is just that the Zaheer family was built around the idea of individualism. It was an unwritten rule that we stayed out of each others' business. In fact, it was only because of that rule that we were able to remain a harmonious family."

As if reminiscing, Jamal narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I was already able to do anything on my own when I was still young. My father, too, would have had no problems living without my mother. As for her, she merely sustained the budget to fulfill her role as the breadwinner of the house, but she didn't interfere in the household itself. Whether you believe it or not, when I was young I thought of her only as a kindhearted aunty who gave us money."

His smile bent in self-deprecation.

"Just as you noted, I did not think about stopping my father."

With a powerless smile, he cast his eyes down.

"I was able to accept the murder plan without problems because I assumed that my father had his own thoughts and his own life. But I suppose that I should have stopped him, just like you said."

He clenched his fist.

"If I had been raised in a different kind of family, I might have acted differently."

Jamal raised his face.

"But you know," he said with a vacant voice, "That's the way I have been brought up since the moment I was born."

His eyes were breathtakingly clear. There was not a particle of regret in his honest and majestic appearance. In my opinion, Jamal was strong.

But at the same time he was just as lonely.

During that moment of sublimity, he was ephemeral like a mirage, setting butterflies in my stomach aflutter.

"Weren't you lonely?"

He promptly answered my question with a shake of his head. "Not at all," he smiled.

Relying on no one seemed like a lonely life to me. He himself, however, claimed he had not been.

"Even now?" I posed my denied question once more. "Are you still not lonely even now that your parents have passed away?"

I found that to be an awfully desolate way of life. Maybe I was just seeing things, but Jamal seemed lonely to me as he sat there wordlessly.

The next moment he put on a slightly awkward smile and looked up at the night sky. The moon reflected in his eyes gave them a golden shine.

When he returned his gaze to me, he declared, "I am not lonely—"

The teasing attitude he usually had toward me was absent.

"—because you are here for me now, Gabriella."

I saw that neither in his eyes nor on his lips was a smile. He was entirely serious.

This was the memorable moment in which I finally succeeded in freezing his smile.

The clock tower was about to strike twelve.

He had no strong motive to kill his parents. At least, I could find none.

Furthermore, my view that Jamal was not a guy that would do something as foolish as murder had already become an unshakable fact for me.

And yet his parents were no more.

I whispered, "...I don't know how to describe this feeling."

Which words would be appropriate?

I stood up from the railing because I couldn't sit still anymore and strolled into the park on my own, leaving him behind.

While ordering my thoughts, I walked slowly and deliberately felt the earth under my feet with each step. My legs led me unconsciously towards the cliff with a good view over the town.

At last I reached the boundary between park and cliff.

The boundary was marked by a rusty, viridian green fence a little higher than my waist. I bent over it and looked down. I figured that it wouldn't take much to fall over it and down the steep slope.

I rested my crossed arms and my chin on the fence, which caused the entire fence bordering the park to bend towards one side a little. I looked down at the town.

The town filled my field of vision with all its shining lights. It was far from the stunning skyline of a metropolis at night, but I was still deeply moved when considering my hometown.

Despite its small size, there was always something going on. That night, too, there must have been a red pick up driven by that man somewhere down there. Was the chocolate-addict still up?

The faces of various people I knew crossed my mind like a slideshow.

"Isn't it captivating? This is what I meant to show you, Gabriella"

The person who flashed up last and by far most vividly was in sync with the person who was beholding the town right by my side.

A chilly gust ruffled his hair. He hugged himself because of the coldness.

"You're quite daring, aren't you?" I scowled at him from below. "Was it because you are confident that you can trick the police? Or is it because you are belittling me?"

"Wrong on both counts!" he shook his hair smoothly. "I just know more than anyone else that I am innocent."

He was composed.

"Let us do a little test... if there was an incident that most clearly implied murder and I told you it was just an accident that happened because of a chain of unfortunate coincidences, would you believe me?"

The hair that fell down from right above swayed in a nightly breeze and tickled the tip of my nose.

"...of course not!"

Because Jamal maintained perfect composure, I hesitated for a moment.

"Right? You don't believe me anyway, so I just let you do whatever you want."

The next moment, he formed a soft smile, accompanied by dancing feathers in my imagination.

"But please remember that there is only one truth for me."

Can someone who laughs so purely be a liar?

I honestly did not know.

"Besides, you are the one I chose. So there should be nothing strange about respecting your decision, even if it differs from the answer I would wish for."

"Chose?" I repeated suspiciously.

The sound was different from the "destined one" sort of "chose" that he had used before. I estimated the nuance to be something along the lines of "entrusted".

"There is one thing you have gotten wrong, Gabriella"

"What do you mean?" I said, confused

"It is not at all a coincidence that you have the murder plan."

".........eh?"

I raised a voice of surprise.

"Please recall the day when you found the murder plan."

It was still vividly in my mind. It had happened after school. I had found the murder plan in his notebook, which he had dropped on the ground.

He suddenly laughed.

"I am a very capable person, if I say so myself, am I not? Do you think that someone like me—"

The face he showed me then was going to remain clear in my memory for a long time. His face looked staggeringly cruel and yet so beautiful.

"—would lose something as important as the murder plan?"

No way. Such a mistake was unthinkable if it was for him, for he was the only absolutely perfect human in the world I knew of.

On that day back then I had participated in a meeting — the regular meeting of the class officers. The female class officer of our class was me. So, who was the male one?

It was the person before my very eyes.

Now that I think about it, he hurried back to the classroom right after the meeting had finished. I figure that he did that in order to buy time, so he could make sure the murder plan would fall into my hands "by chance".

How could I overlook such a basic thing? That he had been searching for the recipe the following morning was most likely just an act to make me believe he had lost it "by chance", too.

It looked like I had been dancing to his tune since the very beginning. That humiliating fact numbed my limbs and even brought terror upon me. Not a groan could be heard from me in this shocked state.

Jamal got off me while giggling.

"There is not one thing that didn't work out the way I wanted. There is not one thing that I couldn't have obtained if I wanted. My wishes define how matters settle."

Normally, those statements would have been extremely haughty, but they sounded like logical facts when it was Jamal speaking.

"But don't you think that such a life is incredibly boring and listless? Is there a point in leading such a life?"

He continued.

"You cannot be excited about a present when you already know what is inside," he slouched his shoulders slightly.

"Nevertheless, I did not decide against being the Jamal everyone desired, because it is simple to play the model student and it did not feel bad to live up to their expectations."

I simply stared at him.

"Do you want to know why I entrusted you with the recipe, Gabriella?"

It was already an almost annoyingly definite fact to me that when he put on such a scheming expression, the answer could not be any good.

"It is because just like me you looked more detached with your life than anyone else I have ever met!" he said as if he had found something dear.

I averted my gaze.

Bullseye.

As he had guessed, I had always lamented over how boring the world seemed to me. My imagination used to be my haven to heal me from the boredom of my daily life.

I picked up the murder plan and stood up.

"You exceeded all my expectations. Talking with you turned out to be exciting, Gabriella. Every day became thrilling as soon as you entered my life. My heart throbbed more than in anyone else's company. I realized right away that you were my 'destined one'. Thus, it was easy to become crazy about you."

Then everything had gone according to his plan and I, as foolish as I had been, readily took the compelling bait, the murder plan.

With heavy steps I walked back to the fence as if drawn to it. By the sound of his steps I noticed that he hurried after me.

"...Ah!"

The fence creaked. He had strongly gripped it and was looking down the black clear space right at my side, leaning over. He quickly realized that there was nothing he could do about it anymore, straightened up again and turned to me.

"...won't you regret that?"

My right arm was fully stretched out over the fence.

A white paper plane was drawing circles in the air as it slowly descended into the bottomless darkness. The plane was probably going to get caught somewhere on the cliff, be exposed to weather for months and finally return to dust.

"It's okay. There's no need for it anymore."

In short, he had been seeking for some kind of thrill for his boring daily life as well. In this sense, our interests had complemented each other without my knowledge.

However, the thing is that I unfortunately came up with another interpretation.

—It happened to me that he may have been overwhelmed by the murder plan.

He was shaken. The discovery of the murder plan, and a completely unexpected side of his father along with it, disturbed him more than he could have imagined. Subconsciously he kept looking for a way to do something about that state of things and in the end entrusted me, whom he had found after long searching, with the murder plan.

That signal was not strong enough to be called an SOS. Probably, he merely wanted to share the information. Maybe he just wanted someone to know.

The burden was indeed a bit too heavy to carry alone.

Maybe I was simply reading too much into it, but I couldn't do anything about it, since that was the impression I got. My vexation was cleared away in a split second.

The thought that Jamal Zaheer, the only person that could pride himself on being perfect, was shaken like a helpless guy and relied on me caused my heart to beat faster than ever.

Now aren't we lovely, it throbbed.

My gaze fell on the number that was indicated on the clock tower behind him.

"Already past midnight?" I said in a whisper.

"Let's go" Jamal said smiling at the clock. He moved to hold my hand.

My eyes must have been wide open when I turned them to the slide that was lit by the silver moonlight.

I suddenly realized why he chose this location and wore all black. We looked like bride and bridegroom at a private wedding à deux in front of a church.

Imprinting is a really dreadful phenomenon: I noticed that the clock tower looked like part of a church. If the bride had held a bouquet, it would have been a wedding ceremony no matter the way you looked at it.

"...Mm, I'm not lonely after all." He whispered with a smile.

I looked at him. The unraveled mystery of Jamal Zaheer. I thought of how it all started and I knew immediately that there was no day I’d miss hearing that name.

He wasn't perfect afterall.