"Brother!"
The old man rushed forward, not all that fast, towards him.
Malik remained still as arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
The man chanted that over and over, his voice shaking.
It was like he was trying to squeeze mountains of regret into these useless words.
Malik blinked, arms hanging loose at his sides, eyes staring over the man's shoulder.
This felt… familiar.
A woman... he said those words to, or perhaps something similar.
He remembered the feeling. His chest was too tight, too warm, too heavy.
But despite how it made him feel, his mind couldn't cough up the details.
It just dangled the memory in front of him like bait he couldn't reach.
"Uncle!"
The child's voice cracked, and suddenly, Malik had arms wrapped around his waist, tiny hands clutching his shirt, a wet cheek pressed to his side.
He was crowded. Pressed in. Trapped in the softest, saddest ambush of his life.
