He wasn’t talkative. He wasn’t even the type to smile. But whenever I walked past, he would raise his hand and nod. There was a kind of quiet shyness in him, but also respect. I didn’t know his name, yet he had become part of my daily routine.
One morning, I noticed a bruise on his arm.
“Sir, are you okay?” I asked.
He smiled a little. “I’m fine, ma’am. Just a small thing.”
But there was sadness in his eyes. I wanted to ask more, but I was in a hurry. As the days passed, I never asked again. I never even tried to learn his name. It was as if… I believed I would see him there every single day.
Until the night I will never forget.
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