"I fear I might be late for school. I hope today will be better than yesterday."
His mother called out, "Come have breakfast, Muhammad."
"Yes, Mom, I'm coming. Wait a little."
He quickly ate his breakfast, not wanting to miss school.
On his way, he noticed a cat stuck at the edge of the road. Concerned that it might be hit by a car or harmed by passersby, he gently helped it to safety. As he continued walking, he felt the cat staring at him intently, as if trying to memorize his face. He found it strange but didn't take it seriously and kept walking.
Deep inside, Muhammad had a strange feeling that he would meet the cat again. But he dismissed the thought and continued on his way, unaware that this cat might one day change his life—that this encounter was a fateful one.
He finally reached the school and, in front of him, saw a beautiful girl. He was mesmerized by her beauty but quickly thought to himself, "I wish I were handsome or strong enough for her to notice me... or even be my girlfriend."
As he was looking at her, she noticed his gaze. Embarrassed, he quickly lowered his head and hurried away.
Unfortunately, his bad luck struck again. His classmates, the ones who always bullied him, had seen the whole thing. Just as he was about to enter the classroom, the three of them blocked his way—Khalid, Mustafa, and Abdul Razzaq.
Khalid smirked. "Why were you staring at her, you piece of trash?"
Muhammad quickly replied, "I wasn't looking at her."
Mustafa laughed mockingly. "We saw you looking at her with admiration. Don't tell me you think you could ever fall in love with her."
Muhammad sighed. "I know she would never like me. I know I won't impress her. But what's it to you if I look at her or not?"
Khalid sneered. "Oh, look at that! The trash is talking back! You're getting bold, huh? I guess we need to remind you of your place."
Without warning, all three of them started beating him. He couldn't fight back. Everyone in the class saw what was happening, but no one dared to stop them. They were all too afraid.
They kept hitting him until the teacher finally arrived to start the lesson. Muhammad sat in his seat, struggling to focus as pain coursed through his bruised body. He clenched his fists, holding in his anger, and endured the class in silence.
When the lesson ended, Muhammad walked out of the classroom. As he descended the stairs, he caught a glimpse of the beautiful girl outside the window. He quickly looked away, trying to avoid her so he wouldn't get beaten again. He quickened his pace, eager to get home and escape the torment.
But as he walked, the girl noticed something—his dirty clothes and the visible bruises on his face. She was surprised but didn't think much of it. After all, Muhammad was just a stranger to her.
A little later, she overheard Khalid and his friends talking.
Khalid laughed. "Is that the girl we caught Muhammad staring at this morning? The one he got beaten up over?"
Mustafa smirked. "Yeah, that's her. She's really beautiful."
Abdul Razzaq scoffed. "How could a piece of trash like Muhammad even think of looking at someone like that?"
The girl felt a pang of guilt. A boy was beaten because of me? She thought for a moment before deciding, Tomorrow, I'll wait for Muhammad. I need to know the truth.
The next morning, Muhammad was walking cautiously, hoping to avoid trouble. But to his surprise, the beautiful girl stopped him.
"Are you Muhammad?" she asked.
Muhammad hesitated, scared that his bullies might see them together. He stayed silent.
"Please, tell me. Are you the one who got beaten because of me?" she insisted.
Muhammad, trembling with fear, finally replied, "Yes."
When she saw him shaking, a deep sadness filled her heart. She could see that he had suffered a lot.
"Why do they beat you? What did you do to make them treat you this way?" she asked gently.
Muhammad, feeling a strange warmth in her concern, hesitated before answering. No one had ever cared enough to ask him these questions before.
He took a deep breath. "I... I looked at you yesterday. They saw me and beat me. They told me I don't deserve to look at you because I'm nothing but trash."
His voice was heavy with sorrow.
The girl clenched her fists in anger. "Just because you looked at me, they did all this to you?"
She was furious—not only because they had hurt someone but because they had dared to interfere in her personal life. No one had the right to decide who could look at her or not.
She looked into Muhammad's eyes and said firmly, "From today onward, I am your friend. Don't let anyone bully you again. And if they try, tell me."
Tears welled up in Muhammad's eyes. He had never had anyone stand up for him before. He had never felt this kind of support.
His voice trembled as he whispered, "Really?"
She smiled. "Yes. If they ever bother you again, tell me."
A single tear rolled down Muhammad's cheek. For the first time, someone cared.
The girl saw his tears and, at that moment, truly understood the pain he carried.
As she walked away, she glanced back at him. What will happen to him? she wondered. Will they hurt him again because of me?
Then she reassured herself, Maybe they won't dare anymore.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Muhammad again—to know what would happen next.