The heavy door of the nightclub burst open, and light and sound exploded all at once.
Murad entered.
Neon lights danced across faces, music struck the walls with force, and the air was saturated with a mixture of perfume and smoke… a place full of life, yet for him—it was completely empty.
He walked forward with steady, calm steps… calmer than the place itself deserved. His expression did not change, but his eyes—were not there.
He was not looking for anyone. Nor for anything.
Only… he wanted not to think.
A few minutes earlier… outside—
A black car stopped smoothly in front of the nightclub entrance. Murad stepped out.
No visible guards. No entourage. Only him… and his quiet steps toward the door.
Across the street—there was a man standing beside his car, holding a camera. He was not one of the usual patrons… he was waiting for something.
And when he saw Murad—his focus changed instantly.
Those features… the way he got out… the unnatural calm of someone of his rank…
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
Then slowly raised the camera.
Click.
The photo was taken—
Murad at the moment of stepping out of the car, heading toward the nightclub entrance.
Clear. Direct. Impossible to deny.
Murad did not notice. And he would not know… that this specific shot would become more dangerous than anything happening inside.
Back inside.
Murad sat at a table, letting his gaze drift over the glass in front of him without truly seeing it.
"I didn't expect to see you here."
A familiar voice.
He looked up.
Aiden.
Standing beside him, a faint smile on his lips, as if he was not truly surprised.
"Do you mind?"
He did not wait for a full answer… and sat down.
For seconds, no one spoke.
Then Murad said calmly:
"You still come to this nightclub."
Aiden smiled, leaning back:
"Yes… this is my place. It reminds me of our first meeting last year."
Murad looked at him for a second… then said:
"A year has already passed."
Aiden nodded lightly:
"And I've kept up with the changes you've gone through."
It was not a casual sentence… but it was spoken as if it were.
At that moment, a waiter approached. He placed a glass in front of Murad—the liquid inside reflecting the shifting lights… then bowed slightly and left.
The glass remained in Murad's hands.
He looked at it.
As if seeing something else within it.
He slowly lifted it… but did not drink immediately.
Something was forming inside him.
Aiden looked at him quietly… then said:
"People don't usually run to loud places… unless the silence inside them is louder."
Murad's hand stopped.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Images—sounds—words—
"Don't wait for me after classes…"
"You're the one who started distancing…"
Everything returned at once.
Stronger. Clearer. Heavier.
He tightened his grip on the glass slightly… then—
He drank.
Once.
The liquid burned through his throat like fire… but he did not stop.
He placed the glass down.
Then signaled the waiter without looking.
Another glass. Then another.
Aiden did not stop him. Did not comment.
Only watched.
Because what was happening now—was not just drinking.
It was collapse… slowly.
And Murad—was no longer trying to stop it.
Time inside the nightclub passed in a way that could not be measured.
The music did not stop… but it began to lose meaning.
Neon lights were no longer beautiful—they became distorted, breaking across Murad's eyes, which grew heavier with every passing moment.
Glass after glass.
Then no counting at all.
Aiden stayed with him the entire time, sometimes silent, sometimes offering short words… as if silence itself was the only form of understanding now.
Outside… the world continued turning.
Inside their table… something else was breaking.
When night fully settled, Murad no longer sat as before.
His back rested against the chair, his gaze no longer steady, his voice when he spoke came fragmented, heavier than usual.
"Do you… think he doesn't want me anymore?"
He paused.
Then added, as if asking himself more than anyone else:
"Or did he find someone else?"
Aiden did not answer immediately.
He looked at him for a long time… then said calmly:
"You're not asking because you want an answer… but because you're afraid of one."
Murad laughed briefly, without joy:
"I'm not afraid."
Silence.
Then everything inside him exploded at once:
"Why is he changing?"
"Why is he ignoring me?"
"Was everything just temporary?"
He took a shaky breath, then lowered his voice:
"Or was I… just a phase?"
Aiden remained silent. But his eyes did not leave him.
Murad leaned slightly forward, his voice weaker now, more broken:
"Am I not enough anymore?"
No one answered.
The air around the table grew heavier.
Then suddenly… Murad rose slightly, as if something inside him had completely shattered.
Without clear awareness, he reached toward Aiden's face.
One second of hesitation…
Then the line between reality and illusion collapsed.
He saw him.
In his hallucination.
Aiden was no longer there… but John.
The same gaze. The same cold silence that crushed him from within.
"John…"
He whispered it.
Then pulled his face closer and kissed him.
A long kiss… confused… without clarity, only desperate need for reassurance, as if it were a final attempt to stop the collapse inside him.
Aiden froze.
He did not move.
Did not pull away immediately.
As if time itself had stopped.
His eyes widened slowly… shock too real to process.
His hand lifted slightly… then stopped in the air.
For a moment, he did not know how to interpret what was happening.
Then… Murad slowly pulled back, returning to his seat, as if he did not fully realize what he had done.
His breathing was irregular.
Eyes half closed.
"Don't leave me…"
He said it in a broken voice, as if speaking to someone entirely different.
Aiden kept staring at him in silence, his face still carrying the trace of shock, mixed emotions beginning to surface from a place he thought he had sealed long ago.
Before he could say anything—
A sharp ringing cut through everything.
Murad's phone.
It vibrated on the table.
The sound was enough to break the moment completely.
Aiden looked at the phone.
Then slowly picked it up.
On the screen:
Eliana — Royal Escort
He hesitated for a second… then answered.
"Murad? Where is he?"
Her voice was firm.
Aiden looked at Murad, who was barely conscious, then said calmly:
"He's here… but he is not okay."
Silence on the other end.
Then her voice returned, faster now:
"Where exactly?"
Aiden replied:
"The nightclub."
The call ended.
But only minutes later, the movement outside began to change.
Cars. Dim, silent lights. Individuals who did not resemble regular patrons.
A royal security convoy… organized… silent.
They did not enter chaotically.
They moved as if erasing a trace no one was meant to see.
Inside the nightclub, men approached quietly, moving toward the table.
Aiden stayed in place for a moment… looking at Murad.
Then he exhaled slowly, as if swallowing something unexpected.
The emotions he thought he had buried… were not entirely dead.
But now… there was no time for them.
He stood up slowly.
While the royal security began removing Murad with extreme calm, without drawing attention.
Murad did not resist.
He was barely conscious, supporting himself with difficulty, his mind still trapped somewhere far from reality.
And Aiden… remained standing.
Watching him being taken away.
Silent.
But inside him… he was not.
The lights of the security convoy stretched along the road leading to the royal palace, silent as if refusing to announce what they carried.
Murad was in the back seat.
His head tilted slightly, eyes half open, but his gaze fixed on nothing.
Everything around him moved like heavy fog—sounds, light, road.
He was not fully present.
And when the car finally stopped in front of the palace… he did not stand on his own.
The guards helped him quietly, without noise or unnecessary words, as if protecting a symbol rather than a person.
At the entrance, Eliana was waiting.
One look at her was enough to understand his condition.
She did not ask much.
Only gave a short gesture:
"Take him to his room."
Inside the palace corridors, everything was quieter than usual.
No heavy footsteps, no discussions—only controlled movement.
Murad was taken into his room.
He was seated on the edge of the bed for a brief moment… then his body slowly collapsed, as if he had lost his final thread of balance.
A guard stepped forward:
"Your Highness—"
But Eliana interrupted calmly:
"Leave him."
A short silence.
Then everyone left one by one.
And Murad remained alone.
The room was dimly lit.
He had not changed his clothes.
Had not asked for anything.
He simply lay down.
And within seconds… fell into a deep sleep, as if his body had chosen escape over his mind.
Elsewhere in the city… the night was quieter.
John was alone.
No music, no noise—only a heavy emptiness sitting on his chest.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands in silence.
Murad's image did not leave him.
His gaze at the university… his voice in the car… then that silence he could not understand.
"I was harsh…"
He said it softly, as if confessing to himself.
He ran his hand slowly over his face.
Then added:
"I shouldn't have distanced myself like that."
Silence.
Then he stood up.
Approached the window.
The city was calm, but inside him was not.
He took out his phone, opened his conversation with Murad…
Paused.
Typed:
"I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Then deleted it.
Typed again:
"I'm sorry."
Long pause.
Then he sent nothing.
He put the phone aside and remained standing in heavy silence.
And in the morning…
The city woke up to something different.
Not the usual university noise… but headlines.
First headline:
"Is the Prince abandoning his studies for alcohol?"
Another:
"Unusual appearance of Prince Murad in a nightclub… source sparks controversy"
The photos were clear.
Murad entering the nightclub.
Murad leaving.
Murad inside a car.
But no one knew the full truth.
And in the palace… the news lay on the table in front of everyone.
Eliana looked in silence.
No one had spoken yet.
And John… when he saw the headline on his phone, froze completely.
The blood drained from his face.
"Murad… all of this because of me…"
He whispered it so softly it was barely audible.
Then slowly closed his phone.
And this time… the silence was not light.
It was heavy enough to begin something entirely new.