The rain had finally stopped.
The air still felt heavy, the sky dull and gray like a damp cloth draped across the heavens. Puddles shimmered on the broken road, reflecting fractured images of the world above. Aman and Mei Lian stood quietly, watching the clouds drift past. The silence after the storm was uneasy not peace, but a breath before another disaster.
"We should move," Aman said, finally breaking the stillness.
Mei Lian nodded, pulling her damp coat tighter around her shoulders. She climbed onto her bicycle, while Aman got into the cart they had found earlier, pulling it behind her. The wheels groaned softly as they began their journey again, heading down a muddy side road that avoided both Japanese and British lines.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
They hadn't gone far when Mei Lian suddenly slowed and pointed.
"Aman... Look over there."
He followed her gaze. Just beyond the ridge, half-obscured by trees and brush, was a group of men in uniform British khaki, rifles slung lazily over their shoulders. There were no officers among them, no order, no discipline.
Deserters.
"Stop," Aman whispered, his tone sharp and low.
Mei Lian obeyed immediately, pressing the brakes with care. "Do you think they saw us?"
"I don't think so," Aman replied, squinting. "They look distracted."
He reached into his bag and pulled out the battered binoculars Henry had given him. The lenses were scratched, but usable.
British soldiers. Indian unit. No clear command structure. Just a handful of men lingering, smoking, murmuring to one another. One man had taken off his boots. Another was fiddling with a damaged compass. There was no discipline. No purpose.
"They've probably deserted," Aman muttered. "Ran from the front. Can't blame them... Jitra was hell well of course Kampar we leave early but pretty sure Japs also take Kampar already. Fighting the Japanese feels like suicide right now."
Mei Lian leaned closer. "What should we do?"
"Deserters are unpredictable," Aman said after a pause. "Some would rather rob than starve. Let's not take any chances. We'll take another route."
They turned back, careful not to draw attention. Neither spoke for a while, both shaken by the sight.
But something festered inside Aman.
He tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the task. But his mind wouldn't stop spinning. Memories clawed their way up.his village in flames, his father's voice, the look on Mei Lian's face when Carter pointed that gun at her.
Something twisted in his gut.
He climbed out of the cart and stood for a long moment, staring at the wet earth beneath his feet. Mei Lian stopped pedaling and looked back.
"Aman?" she asked. "You okay?"
"I hate this," he muttered.
"What?"
"I hate it. All of it. This war. These soldiers. That bastard Carter. The British, the Japanese... all of them. They're the reason my family's gone. My home. Everything."
Mei Lian got off the bike and walked toward him. "I know it's hard. But we have each other. That's what matters."
Aman didn't respond. His hands curled into fists. His breathing grew heavier.
"I told myself I'd protect you," he said quietly. "But you were the one who protected me. You shot Carter. You saved me. And what have I done?"
He stared down the road, toward where the deserters had been.
"I can't even shoot straight," he said, voice hollow.
Mei Lian's eyes widened. "Aman, what are you?"
He didn't wait.
He ran.
"No Aman!" Mei Lian shouted, chasing after him. "Stop! What are you doing!?"
But he was already gone, sprinting back toward the ridge.
The soldiers never saw him coming.
They barely had time to raise their heads before Aman raised his revolver and opened fire. The sound of gunshots shattered the quiet morning. Birds scattered. Trees echoed the violence.
One bullet. Then another. And another.
They screamed some tried to run, others ducked. But they had no weapons drawn. No cover. No leadership. They afraid something unexpected. Afraid of unpredictability.
By the time the revolver clicked empty, seven men lay still.
Blood mixed with the mud. Rifles untouched. Eyes wide open in death.
Aman stood there, breathless, shoulders heaving. His hands shook as he looked at what he had done.
The silence was louder than the shots.
They hadn't attacked. They hadn't even threatened him.
He wasn't sure what he'd proven. Or to whom.
But he felt nothing.
Mei Lian finally caught up, panting, staring in horror.
"Aman... what have you done?"
He turned to her slowly, his face unreadable.
"They would've turned on us," he said flatly. "Deserters... they get desperate. Better them than us."
Mei Lian stepped back, shaking her head. "You don't know that. You don't know that!"
"They're the reason this war's a disaster!" Aman snapped. "They ran. Cowards. The Japanese took everything from me because no one stood and fought!"
"And now you took everything from them!" Mei Lian screamed. "They didn't even fight back!"
Aman stepped forward, reaching for her. "Mei Lian, it's still me"
"No!" she cried, backing away. "No, it's not! You're not the same anymore."
"I'm doing what I have to!"
"You're doing this for you! Not for me!"
He froze, wounded by her words.
"We killed Carter together," Aman argued, his voice breaking. "You, You shot him. We're the same."
"No," Mei Lian said, her voice trembling. "We are not the same. I shot someone who threatened us. You shot people who didn't even see you."
A long silence fell between them.
"I just... I needed to do something," Aman whispered. "I can't be the weak one anymore."
Mei Lian's eyes filled with tears. "You weren't weak. You were human. And now... I don't know what you are."
Just then, a voice broke through the tension.
"Such passion. Such conviction."
They both turned.
A figure stepped out from the trees.
A Japanese officer. Clean uniform. Calm expression. A saber at his side. His face was disturbingly familiar round glasses, gentle smile.
Aman blood froze. He knew that face.
He had seen it before at his village. At Jitra. In the photograph he had found near that burn village.
The man who had watched his world burn.
"Having a bit of a lover's quarrel?" the officer said, hands raised in mock surrender. "Don't worry. I'm not here to kill you. Quite the opposite."
Aman reached for his empty revolver instinctively, but the officer only chuckled.
"Relax. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
"What do you want?" Aman hissed.
"I saw the whole thing. Very impressive," the officer said, gesturing to the bodies. "You killed them without hesitation. Even I hesitate sometimes. You might be useful."
Mei Lian stepped between Aman and the officer. "We don't want anything from you. We're not joining you."
"Shame," the officer sighed. "Because I'm offering you something better than your sorry little rebellion. A place. Safety. Even purpose."
Aman's jaw clenched. "Why were you at Jitra?"
The officer raised an eyebrow. "You remember me? Ah. The fire. Yes, unfortunate business. Necessary, though."
"You killed my family."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps someone else did. War blurs those lines, doesn't it?"
Aman lunged, but the officer stepped back with ease.
"You have fire in you, boy," he said. "Hate. Anger. It can eat you alive or it can make you powerful. Think about it."
He turned and began walking away.
"Oh," he added, glancing back with a smile. "If you ever change your mind... you know where to find me."
And then he vanished into the trees.
Aman stood rooted to the spot.
The world seemed to spin. His stomach turned. He looked again at the dead deserters. At Mei Lian, standing at a distance, tears on her face.
He had thought revenge would bring closure.
But all it brought was silence.
And a deeper kind of emptiness.