I arranged my folded clothes and sealed toiletries neatly inside the navy blue Samsonite luggage that was laid with its cover open while cautioning myself over its maximum weight limit. Once I'm done, I flapped close to its cover without zipping it, then carefully sliding the luggage to the corner of the room making sure that I didn't stretch the treated avulsion wound of six-inch under my belly button.

My flight was due at 11.00pm, giving me an ample of time to be ready to leave the place I used to call home with too many memories that I was dying to eradicate. After ensuring that I had not left anything essential behind, I cautiously stripped down my pyjamas and wrapped my naked body with the towel before heading for a shower. I strolled past the passageway, the common room and the kitchen, reminiscing every recollection that left trailing in each room.

I got into the tub, turning the hot and cold water tap simultaneously before adjusting the right temperature. Squeezing out the final residue of Arlésienne scented L'Occitane shower gel on my palm, I lathered it around my bare skin and gently scrubbed between reachable crevices on my body. The comfortable lukewarm water was inviting enough to make me change my mind about shampooing my hair. I glided the hair tie around my wrist after pulling it from my head to release my short locks. Tilting my head forward under the running water, I soaked my hair thoroughly before applying a generous amount of Kérastase shampoo onto my head and massaged it gently into the roots of my hair. The calming ritual of the shower during my last day here was all I needed at the moment.

But it was somehow short-lived as I was interrupted by the sound of battering outside the house, loud enough that it was audible from the bathroom.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I initially ignored it assuming the noise came from my neighbours. But as soon as I began to realise that its source came from the front door, I turned off both taps for a clearer sound. I noted the knocking went persistent and harsh in every minute accompanied by a muffled shouting of a male voice.

I squeezed out the excess water from my drenched hair and sprinkled off the wastewater with whatever blood that was left between my legs into the drainage. I quickly wrapped the towel that I hastily reached around my body and I opened the bathroom door, letting out clouds of steam from the warm shower to dissolve into the kitchen.

The muffled shouting called out to me and rattled my door with his repetitive thumps. I hid myself behind the common room door before I edged closer to the passageway, peeking behind the door frame of my bedroom. My heart pounded at a faster rate, trying to figure out the raging man outside my house, gauging between Abs and Hussaini's men.

I cowered to the floor and crawled across my room, avoiding any possibilities of having him to catch me in only my towel through the blinders. The rapping finally stopped moments later and I spotted his silhouette through the window departing away. After feeling safe enough to walk around the room, I quickly dried myself and lodged into my undergarments that I prepared on the bed without hesitation.

Suddenly, I sensed the presence of someone emerging from behind and held me by my arm. I shrieked in my reflexes, swaying my free hand onto the person's face for a hard slap. I instantly felt the scuffed surface on his jawline in my palm when it passed his stubble. When I discovered it was Nick that ambushed me, my eyes widened.

"I'm sorry –" I gasped and was about to hold his face out of concern but I halted myself, cautioning me that I no longer have the right to touch him as he was longer mine. I managed to grab hold to my towel, covering my lingerie-clad body while I stared at him quietly.

Nick flinched a few inches away from me, casually recovering himself from the shock. His perfect five o'clock shadow was just as I remembered but his former long hair was cropped into his usual short haircut with a high fade on the sides and back, leaving his medium long fringe to part sideways.

He smirked. "I'm still surprised by how your defences reflexed after everything that I've taught you," he said to me cynically. "It's no wonder why they attack you easily."

"What the hell do you want, Nick?" My initial concern over his face turned agitated by his annoying remark, coupled with the memories of him with that girl in front of Furqan mosque. "Get the hell out of my house or I'll call the cops."

"They're after you, Zahida," he replied nonchalantly.

"Don't call me Zahida!" I snapped. "You can no longer deserve to call me by my name."

"Okay," he shrugged and went on, "My father and his men are anticipating your arrival at the airport. So, you can no longer go back with the ticket you bought. You need to leave via London. Now, finish up what you're doing, we're leaving now."

"Why would you even care?" I evaded my eyes from meeting him. "You're supposed to be mingling around with your hijabi girlfriend instead of coming here trying to be a hero."

"Is she even my girlfriend?" he asked crisply.

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Did you see us holding hands, making out and kissing in public?" he asked again.

"No," I mouthed.

"Exactly. Once again, you are assuming things," Nick said impatiently. "If we don't move now, you'll be dead."

"Stop trying to be authoritative!" I exploded. "I no longer do things under your fuckin' command!"

"Then stop being petulant," Nick argued back.

"Piss off!" I raged, rolling a few more slaps and punches at him from his head down to his torso. He however remained stationary, absorbing my relentless tantrum attacks while cautiously guarding his crotch. "You, sick son of a bitch!" I repeatedly shouted at him in my every strike.