NOVPUB***
{Inside The Projection}
A soft rush of warm air brushed Malik's face.
He opened his eyes to golden Shamslight spilling through tall windows.
The scent of citrus blossoms floated in the air, strangely comforting. Polished marble gleamed beneath his feet, reflecting light onto his face.
There was a hall, wide and high like a temple, yet somehow familiar. Painted pillars lined the corridor, each scribbled on with old tongue, their designs beyond intricate.
Malik wasn't still in that hall.
He... or rather, a much, much smaller version of himself, darted across the floor barefoot, a mop of messy golden hair bouncing with every step, giggling wildly as he did.
His voice sounded like that of a kid, and his hands seemed to belong to one too...
There was no doubt about it; he was a kid, perhaps not even four years old.
Behind him, an elderly man gave chase—or at least attempted to.
He was dressed in layered silks, flowing robes in deep bronzes and white, a sash tied around his waist, and a long scarf over one shoulder. He held a polished cane in one hand, shaking it like it was part of the chase.
"Slow down, you little desert fiend!"
The old man wheezed between coughs.
"These old bones weren't made to dance through palaces anymore!"
But the boy—Malik—kept running, cheeks flushed, laughter spilling out louder.
Though he didn't stay ahead for long.
Just as he reached the corner of the hallway, about to make a sharp turn—
Thud.
A sudden sound stopped him cold.
"Ahk!"
Followed by a groan.
Malik's small feet skidded on the floor as he twisted around.
"Old man Mahdi?"
The butler was on one knee, cane dropped beside him, hand on his back, his face scrunched in pain.
Thump.
Malik's heart stuttered.
Without thinking, he rushed back.
"Old man Mahdi!!"
But just as he reached him, Mahdi's eyes popped open and a mischievous grin broke across his face.
With an agility far beyond expected from an old man, Mahdi lunged forward and snatched the boy into a hug.
"Caught you!"
Malik's little eyes widened in disbelief.
"Y-You… that was fake?!"
Mahdi laughed, deep and full of pride, ruffling the boy's hair.
"You're too kind for your own good, boy. I told you not to let your guard down."
"Hmph!"
Malik puffed his cheeks and looked away dramatically.
"That's cheating."
Mahdi stood up with a grunt, steadying himself with the cane.
With his free hand, he gently patted Malik's head again. It was a habit of his.
"Kindness is a strength, not a weakness... Even if it means you get tricked by an old owl like me."
Malik extended a small hand.
"Whatever..."
Mahdi took it with a tired smile, his fingers wrapping around the boy's smaller ones.
"Your mother wants to see your progress in the Royal Sword Style. Let's not keep her waiting."
Thump.
The memory shifted between heartbeats.
Moonlight spilled across a quiet bedroom, soft and silver.
Malik stood at the doorway, a bit older now, far from a teenager, but no longer the wild, giggling child who darted down palace halls.
His cheeks lost their baby fat, making them thinner, and his gaze was sharper.
He barely looked like the same boy anymore.
The room was quiet, except for the gentle whimpers coming from the bed.
There she was.
His mother.
She sat hunched over, her silk robe draped around her much like wilted petals, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders in messy waves.
Her face was hidden in her hands, shoulders trembling with each quiet sob.
She looked small. Fragile. Nothing like the statuesque, proud noble one would expect.
Malik didn't speak.
He simply stood there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Eventually, she noticed the shift in the air and looked up.
Her eyes were red, puffy, lips trembling.
But when she saw him, her face tried to quickly rearrange itself.
She wiped her tears with quick fingers, took a shaky breath, and patted the empty space beside her on the bed, acting like she wasn't caught just crying her sorrows away.
"…Come here, darling."
Malik obeyed, walking softly across the carpet.
He climbed up onto the bed without a word, curling beside her.
As soon as he settled, she pulled him into her arms, cradling him gently, fingers brushing through his hair with a slow rhythm.
She always did that. Like she was trying to soothe herself more than him.
"You're so smart…"
She whispered, almost giggling.
"Always know when I need you, don't you?"
She kissed the top of his head.
"Always so quiet… so gentle…"
Her voice was light, but it trembled.
"Sometimes, I wonder how someone like me ended up with a child like you."
She giggled a second time.
"Too good. Too patient. God above, I didn't even know kids could be this lovely."
Malik stayed silent.
He didn't speak.
It was not because he didn't want to. But because he already knew where this was going.
He'd seen this look in her eyes many times before—halfway between guilt and desperation. And he'd probably heard this exact same rambling, word for word.
It always ended the same way.
So he waited.
And just as he expected… her voice eventually dimmed.
She grew quieter. Slower, and held him a little tighter.
"You know… my husband and I… we've been having some problems lately."
Her hand was still brushing through his hair.
"But… you don't need to worry about that. It's not your burden to carry, alright?"
Malik tilted his head and looked up at her.
His eyes were calm... understanding.
"…The problems are because of me, right?"
She stiffened.
"That's why he ignores me. Why he only talks to me when he needs something."
Her hand stopped.
Malik saw it in her face.
She hadn't expected him to say it. To call it out like that.
"…No, sweetheart, it's just…"
She looked away, biting her lower lip.
"Complicated. Adults—"
"You don't have to lie."
He interrupted gently.
"I already know."
She shut her eyes tight, trying to block out his words. Her fingers curled into the bedsheets.
"…Your mama made a mistake, Malik. A really big mistake. An unforgivable one. I… I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Malik's tiny hand reached out, slowly wrapping around hers.
"Then ask him."
He gave it a small squeeze.
"Tell him you'll do anything. That you'll fix it."
She looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Her eyes shimmered, desperate.
"Anything?"
Malik nodded.
His face was too sweet and calm for a child his age.
"Yes, Mama... If it were me, I'd forgive you."
Her mouth trembled.
She didn't say anything. Didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled him in even tighter, pressing her face into his neck, her arms shaking as she held onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
"Oh… my sweet, sweet child."
Her tears soaked into his shoulder.
Malik didn't hug her back.
He just sat there.
Still.
Silent.
Eyes open.
Heart distant.
He didn't understand everything—not yet. But he understood enough.
Enough to know that love and betrayal sometimes came wrapped in the same silk ribbon.
And that sometimes… people who claimed to love you only held you tightest when they were about to let you go.
Thump.
