The courtyard of the Faculty of Nursing at Cairo University always carried a strange kind of warmth this time of day. The late afternoon sun stretched long, drowsy fingers through the branches of the sycamore trees, dappling the worn concrete paths and faded stone benches with shifting, golden light. The air was thick with the scent of dust, blossoming jacaranda trees, and grilled corn from the street vendor beyond the gates.
Mazen Abdou sat on the low steps leading up to the central lecture hall, an untouched pharmacology book resting on his lap. Its pages fluttered in the lazy breeze, but he made no move to hold them down.
His gaze wasn't on the text.
Across the courtyard, near the fountain where students gathered between lectures, Shina Hossam stood with another nursing student — a guy Mazen didn't even know by name. The boy said something, grinning, and Shina burst into laughter, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
Mazen's stomach tightened. He told himself, It's nothing. It's the fourth time, that's all. Doesn't mean anything.
But it did mean something.
It meant everything.
The breeze rustled the pages again. Mazen sighed and shut the book.
A familiar voice cut through his thoughts.
"Ya Mazen, you alright, man?"
Nour El-Deen dropped down onto the step beside him, shoving a half-eaten sandwich into a paper bag. The wiry, bespectacled student adjusted his glasses and peered at him.
"You look like you've just lost your final exam papers in a sandstorm."
Mazen managed a weak smile.
"Nothing. Just… long day."
Nour followed his gaze and caught sight of Shina laughing again. His brow quirked.
"Ah. I see."
"It's not what you think," Mazen mumbled, his voice low, eyes flicking down to the cracked concrete at his feet.
"Yeah?" Nour stretched out his legs. "'Cause it kinda looks exactly like what I think. And also what half the faculty already knows, habibi."
Mazen clenched his jaw.
"I don't care."
"Of course you don't." Nour stood, brushing breadcrumbs off his jeans. "Just don't start walking into traffic without looking, yeah? You're not as subtle as you think."
He left Mazen sitting there with the sound of the fountain's soft spray and Shina's bright, carefree laugh.
Mazen stayed a while longer, watching as the sky began to take on the bruised violet of approaching dusk.
And the knot in his chest twisted tighter.
________________________________________
He told himself it didn't mean anything.
A laugh was a laugh.
A smile was just a smile.
But memory had its own way of unspooling itself when you least wanted it.
A month ago, they'd been strangers — two nursing students with a couple of shared lectures and nothing to say to each other. Until the day Professor Hany made a snide, uncalled-for joke about
Mazen's absentee father while taking attendance.
He'd stood there, feeling heat rise in his face, unsure whether to laugh it off or let it slide.
Then Shina had spoken.
"Sir," she'd said, clear as glass, "if we're shaming students over personal lives now, I have a few things I could mention about you too."
The lecture hall had gone still.
A beat.
Then a ripple of stifled laughter.
The professor had blushed, muttered something, and moved on.
After class, Mazen had caught up to her in the hallway.
"You didn't have to do that."
She'd shrugged. "Didn't like his tone. Plus, I'm petty. No one makes fun of quiet boys on my watch."
And she'd grinned — that easy, crooked grin that hit harder than any well-crafted insult.
Since then, there'd been other moments.
The time they'd both grabbed the same pen from a classroom desk, her fingers brushing his, and she'd laughed at the way he chewed the cap, making him self-consciously hide it.
Or the afternoon at the courtyard fountain when he'd told her an awkward joke about how ancient Egyptians believed onions warded off evil spirits, and she'd countered with, "Yeah? I bet that's why my grandma forces me to eat them raw before exams. Guess you're safe around me now."
And the time she'd impulsively grabbed his wrist and dragged him halfway down a street to buy roasted peanuts from a vendor she swore made them better than anyone in Cairo.
Little things.
Nothing dramatic.
But every one of them carved a space for her inside him.
He hadn't even realized it at first. Love didn't announce itself. It crept in quiet, through the cracks, until one day you caught yourself watching someone laugh, and it hurt.
That was today.
And yesterday.
And the day before.
The same boy.
The same easy way she laughed with him.
And now the memories felt like rusted blades turning in his chest.
He pushed the pharmacology book aside and stood.
Enough.
________________________________________
Mazen left campus just as the call to Maghrib prayer drifted over the rooftops, carried by the warm evening air. The streets glowed with sunset, headlights flickering on, Cairo's familiar hum rising to meet the night.
He cut through side streets, past fruit stalls and shuttered kiosks, until the city's noise faded behind him.
The amusement park lay on the outskirts of the old industrial district — forgotten, fenced-off, and rusted to its bones. The sign above the gate, half-hanging by a bolt, still read "DreamLand Gardens" in faded, curling paint.
It wasn't locked. It never was. No one bothered anymore.
The air inside was different — quieter, heavier, like a place the living didn't belong. Vines clung to the crumbling ticket booth. The carousel horses, chipped and weather-beaten, stood frozen in mid-gallop under a sagging canvas roof.
He used to come here when he was a kid, hand in hand with his father. Back when the world felt wider. Safer.
Mazen crossed to the Ferris wheel — the tallest thing for miles, its metal skeleton silhouetted against the dying light. The old steps creaked beneath his weight as he climbed to the nearest car, settling into the faded blue seat.
From here, Cairo stretched out in a hazy blur, a thousand flickering lights against the darkening sky.
Usually, it calmed him.
But not tonight.
The ache behind his ribs wouldn't ease. The air smelled of rust and old oil, of time and dust, and none of it filled the hollow inside.
He leaned back, closing his eyes, remembering how his father used to grip the bar beside him, pointing out the city skyline and making up stories about the people in the streets below.
He smiled bitterly at the memory.
Then opened his eyes again, and the ache was still there.
It doesn't work anymore.
A chill slid down his spine. He hated the thought but couldn't deny it.
The place that used to heal him didn't have the strength for it tonight.
And deep down, Mazen knew why.
________________________________________
Shina wasn't the type to chase after people. She wasn't the type to worry too much about quiet boys with sharp eyes and sad smiles.
Or so she'd told herself.
But there was something about the way Mazen had been walking these past days — shoulders hunched, eyes distant, like he was carrying a weight no one else could see. And for reasons she hadn't fully unpacked, she'd noticed.
More than she meant to.
She told herself it was nothing. That she just happened to be heading the same way when she saw him slip out through the campus gate as the sky dimmed.
But something tugged at her. So she followed.
He moved quickly, cutting through the old streets like someone who'd done it a hundred times.
Shina trailed at a distance, keeping to the shadows, ducking behind a parked van when he glanced back once.
Where is he going?
When he passed into the old industrial quarter, the question gnawed harder. The buildings here were long abandoned — concrete skeletons hollowed by years of wind and neglect. No reason for a student to be here.
Unless he was in trouble.
Or looking for it.
When he reached the crumbling gates of the abandoned amusement park, Shina's stomach tightened.
Seriously, Mazen? This place?
The park had been a popular haunt before she was born — shuttered years ago after a fatal ride collapse. Her grandfather used to tell her stories about the place.
She hesitated outside the rusted gate. A cool, dry wind stirred her hair, carrying the scent of rust and dry leaves. A part of her screamed to turn back.
But her feet moved anyway.
Through the broken gate.
Past the weather-worn carousel.
Following the faint, rhythmic groan of the Ferris wheel in the breeze.
And then — she heard his voice. Far off, ragged and broken.
"I love her! And I don't know what to do anymore!"
The words hit like a stone to the chest.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the sound of the creaking wheel and the echo of those words.
Shina's heart twisted, and she stepped closer, breath caught tight in her throat.
He was talking about… me?
________________________________________
Mazen gripped the rusted railing of the Ferris wheel car, his fingers cold against the flaking metal.
His throat ached from holding in words for too long. The tightness in his chest felt like it might crack his ribs apart.
The park around him hung silent, save for the soft rustle of wind in dead leaves and the occasional creak of rusted rides.
The sky above had shifted from violet to a deep, bruised blue. A scattering of early stars blinked weakly through the smog.
He let out a harsh breath. It clouded in the cooling air.
It doesn't matter. She wouldn't care anyway.
But it did.
And maybe it always had.
Mazen threw back his head, his voice tearing loose before he could stop it.
"I love her!"
It echoed against the dead metal and empty booths.
His voice cracked. He didn't care.
"I love her, and I don't know what to do anymore!"
It left him breathless. Staring up at the indifferent sky.
A voice answered — soft, fragile, like a thread ready to snap.
"…Mazen?"
His heart stuttered.
He spun.
And there she was.
Shina. Standing at the base of the Ferris wheel, half-shadowed by a crooked beam, hair brushing her shoulders, wide amber eyes shining in the dark.
He felt everything in him freeze, then shatter into jagged, irreparable pieces.
She'd heard.
All of it.
For a second, the world held its breath.
Mazen opened his mouth, searching for words, for some way to pull the air back into his lungs.
Nothing came.
His throat worked, and the shame surged up too fast to stop.
He looked away, blinking hard. But the burn behind his eyes refused to leave.
And then — a single tear slid down his cheek.
But it wasn't clear.
It was black.
Midnight-dark, shimmering like oil in the dim light.
He didn't even notice.
Not until it fell.
And hit the cracked concrete with a sound too sharp for something so small.
A sound that didn't belong in this world.
________________________________________
The tear struck the ground with a sound like glass cracking beneath water.
Mazen barely registered it.
His pulse pounded in his ears, his breath sharp and uneven, every nerve screaming in embarrassment and heartbreak. His shoulders shook.
And then — the air changed.
The wind stilled.
The dead leaves stopped rustling. The very air seemed to press in closer, heavier, as if the night itself were holding its breath.
Shina felt it too.
A prickle danced across her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. A sick, pulsing hum radiated from the spot where the tear had fallen — a tiny, dark stain against the broken concrete.
It spread.
Hairline cracks spiderwebbed outward, glowing faintly violet against the gray. The very ground seemed to breathe, exhaling an ancient, unseen breath.
A low, unnatural hum filled the air, vibrating in their bones.
"Mazen," Shina whispered, her voice barely carrying.
He looked down, following her wide-eyed gaze.
A faint ripple — like heat rising off stone — shimmered above the cracked earth.
Then a single point of violet light burst through.
The ground shuddered.
Mazen stumbled back, eyes wide, his gut twisting with a primal fear he didn't have a name for.
The light stretched, twisted, spiraled upward into the air.
It wasn't like fire.
Not like any flame, or smoke, or mist.
It was… a tear in the world itself.
A swirling, formless vortex of violet and midnight black, the edges crackling like a storm frozen in a bottle.
The hum deepened into a guttural thrum.
Something ancient.
Something alive.
Mazen's instincts screamed at him to run.
But all he could do was stare.
________________________________________
The vortex exploded outward with a roar of displaced air.
A blast of wind howled through the skeletal park, tearing dead leaves from branches, sending dust and grit in every direction. The abandoned rides groaned and rattled, their rusted frames swaying under the sudden pressure.
Mazen's hair whipped around his face, his jacket billowing behind him. The pulling force was impossible — like gravity itself had twisted sideways, yanking toward that impossible tear in the earth.
"Shina!" he shouted, voice raw.
She was closer to the edge than he was, too shocked to move.
Without thinking, Mazen lunged toward her, grabbed her arm with both hands, and hurled her away from the widening rift.
"Get back!"
His strength surprised even him — adrenaline making him reckless. She hit the ground a few meters away, rolling, scrambling for footing.
But the pull was too strong.
The air screamed.
The crack in the world stretched wider, violet and black lightning crackling along its rim. The force dragged at Mazen's limbs, pulling him toward the rippling maw.
He reached out, grabbing at a broken metal railing.
His hand slipped.
"Mazen!" Shina's voice — raw, desperate.
He caught her gaze in that instant — the terror in her amber eyes, her lips parted to say something he'd never hear.
Then the darkness took him.
It yanked him off his feet, a crushing, freezing pressure swallowing him whole.
For a heartbeat, Shina clung to a splintered wooden beam, nails digging into the weathered surface.
But the storm around the portal surged again.
And the world let go.
Her fingers slipped.
And she, too, was pulled into the violent, spiraling unknown.
The tear in the earth hissed, crackled, then snapped shut like a wound.
The park fell silent.
Only the dying wind stirred the leaves.
And Cairo's night stretched on as if nothing had happened.
To be continued…