Ayman took the salami from his mother, his mind still heavy with the events of the day. He hadn’t eaten much, but the hunger in his stomach felt distant, almost forgotten. His mother’s insistence was clear, but he just needed a moment, a break from everything. “I’ll eat later,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before heading upstairs to the rooftop.


    As he walked through the narrow hallway of the house, the voices of Karim and his wife reached him through the walls. Their words were muffled but clear enough to make out the tension in their conversation.


    "What if he does it again, Karim?" His wife’s voice was anxious, filled with a kind of frustration. "You can’t keep protecting him like this. He’s pushing you to the edge."


    Ayman paused for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe as he stood still, listening. He heard Karim’s response, low and defensive, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t need to. He could feel the weight of the conversation, the silent judgment.


    Ayman’s heart tightened, but he quickly shook it off. He didn’t want to think about them anymore. He had to get away, even if it was just for a few minutes.


    With a quiet sigh, he pushed open the door to the rooftop, the cool night air brushing against his face. The soft rustle of the wind mixed with the distant hum of the city, but here, above it all, it felt a little quieter. He walked toward the corner where his cats always slept, nestled in a cozy spot near the roof’s edge.


    The little kittens were sprawled out, their fur soft and fluffy, their tiny bodies curled up against the chill. As Ayman approached, one of them stirred, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He smiled softly, kneeling down to place the salami by their side.


    "Hey, you cuties," he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection, a stark contrast to the hardened tone he’d used earlier. "You’ve grown so big. Soon, you’ll be tigers, huh? Protecting me from all the bad stuff."


    The kittens purred and mewed in response, rubbing up against his hand as he gently fed them. He chuckled quietly, the sound a rare moment of warmth in the otherwise tense air. He scratched behind their ears, feeling their small bodies shift beneath his touch.


    "Look at you," he continued, his voice a little steadier now. "You’re going to be strong. You’ll keep me safe. I know you will."


    The little ones nuzzled into his palm, their tiny faces full of trust, and Ayman felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time—peace. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the noise in his head quiet for a moment.


    He leaned back against the roof, eyes focused on the stars above as he watched the kittens play with each other, their tiny paws batting at the pieces of salami he’d placed for them. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the anger, the guilt, the frustration with his life. It was just him and the cats, and in that moment, Ayman let himself be nothing but a man, caring for the small creatures that depended on him.


    His thoughts drifted, soft and almost hopeful, as he watched the kittens grow more playful. Maybe, just maybe, he could still find something to protect in this world. Maybe these little guys could teach him something about surviving, about caring, even when the world seemed bent on breaking him.


    "Yeah," he whispered to the night, his voice barely audible. "Maybe you guys are the only ones who get me."


    Ayman sat on the rooftop, the cool night air brushing against his face as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. The stars above were barely visible through the haze of the city lights, but he didn’t mind. His thoughts drifted, a mix of anger and exhaustion, his mind replaying the conversation with Karim, his mother’s worried face, and the weight of everything he had just gone through. The sound of the city hummed below him, distant but constant.


    As he took another drag, the sharp ring of his phone broke through the quiet. It was his friend, Sami.


    "Yo, Ayman, come out; let’s have some drinks! Come on, man, we’re waiting for you."


    Ayman glanced at the phone, letting out a soft chuckle. His friends never let him rest. But maybe this was what he needed. A distraction. A chance to forget, even if for just a moment. He ran his hand through his hair, then texted back.


    "Okay, I’ll eat and be there in a bit."


    He made his way back downstairs, walking into the kitchen where his mother had already gone to bed. He ate quickly, barely tasting the food, and then left the house, heading toward the small gathering spot near the street where his friends usually hung out. It was late, almost midnight, and the street was quieter than usual, but the sound of distant laughter and the clink of bottles could be heard as he approached.


    Sami was the first to see him, waving him over with a grin. His friend was already holding a bottle of siltia, the familiar Tunisian drink that burned its way down, a comfort of sorts to Ayman.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Ah, there he is! Come on, bro, we got the good stuff!" Sami grinned, handing him a bottle.


    Ayman took it without hesitation, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. The burn of the alcohol hit his throat, making him feel momentarily alive in the haze of everything else.


    "So, tell me," Sami said, leaning back on the worn-out crate they used as a seat, "what happened today? We heard about the cops. You good?"


    Ayman paused for a moment, the buzz from the alcohol beginning to cloud his mind. He glanced around, making sure no one else was listening. His other friend, Nadir, had just joined them, settling in next to Sami.


    "Yeah," Ayman said, his voice steady now, a shift from the vulnerable man he had been earlier. "I’m good. But let me tell you what happened. Those cops—man, they were begging me not to do anything."


    His friends leaned in, eyes wide, hanging on to every word as Ayman crafted his story, weaving it into something larger than it was.


    "I kicked their asses, you know?" Ayman said, his voice growing more confident with each word. "They tried to get me, but I wasn’t having it. I was cursing them out, right in their faces. They didn’t know what to do, man. They were scared."


    Sami and Nadir exchanged a quick glance, their mouths dropping open.


    "No way," Sami said, laughing. "You really did that?"


    Ayman nodded, trying to mask the flicker of guilt that rose inside him. This wasn’t how it went, but in this moment, he didn’t care. He was tired of being the kid who never stood up for himself. He was tired of feeling weak. He was going to be the tough guy now. He was going to be the man they’d look up to.


    "Yeah, I told them to back off. Told them they didn’t scare me. I wasn’t going to let them push me around anymore."


    Nadir laughed, slapping Ayman on the back. "That’s my boy," he said. "You’re a real badass, Ayman. Always knew you had it in you."


    Ayman smirked, taking another swig of the siltia. The more they bought into his story, the more it fed the anger he felt inside. He wasn’t going to be the weak one anymore. He wasn’t going to be the victim. Not anymore.


    Sami, still grinning, grabbed the bottle from Ayman’s hand and took a drink for himself. "Man, that’s crazy," he said. "You got the balls to do it, though. The cops? Respect, man. You’re a real one."


    Ayman leaned back, his chest swelling with pride. His friends saw him as something he wasn’t, and it felt good. It felt damn good. For once, he didn’t feel like the one who always got pushed around. For once, he was in control of the story.


    "You should’ve seen it," Ayman continued, a lie spinning effortlessly off his tongue. "I was about to go at them, but then they just backed off. They knew I wasn’t playing around. They knew they were out of their league."


    His friends nodded, clearly impressed, and Ayman felt a sense of power, a fleeting victory over everything that had been dragging him down.


    As the night wore on, the conversation drifted, but Ayman stayed silent, lost in his thoughts. They kept drinking, the laughter ringing through the night, and for the first time in a while, Ayman felt something close to relief. The weight of his lies didn’t feel as heavy, at least not here, with his friends around. In this moment, he was somebody.


    Ayman was in the middle of laughing at one of Sami’s jokes when his attention was suddenly drawn to a group of girls passing by. They looked tired, their faces drawn from a long day of work. They were workers from the nearby factory, coming home after hours of labor, their footsteps heavy on the street. But one of them caught his eye. It was Yasmin, his neighbor. She had always been friendly, but tonight, she looked exhausted.


    "Wait, Yasmin?" Ayman called out, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation. He felt a strange pull to her, a sense of something real, something untouched by the night’s lies and alcohol.


    Yasmin looked up, her eyes brightening a little as she recognized him. She stopped and walked toward him, her footsteps slow, as if each one took effort.


    "Ayman, are you okay?" she asked, concern immediately flooding her face. She was shaking slightly, her body clearly feeling the weight of the long day. "What happened to your face? Are you alright?"


    Ayman quickly brushed it off with a half-smile, though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. His friends watched from a distance, their murmurs and jokes starting.


    "Oh, no, I’m fine. Just had a little fight, you know, a bar fight. Kicked some guy’s ass, nothing major," Ayman said casually, trying to sound tougher than he felt. He stepped a little away from his friends, wanting this moment with Yasmin to feel more personal, to separate himself from the lies and the drinking.


    His friends, still watching from a distance, snickered. Sami made a loud, teasing remark.


    "Oh, look at Ayman, going to talk to his lover!"


    Ayman rolled his eyes, but the teasing only made him more determined to maintain his composure in front of Yasmin. Another one of his friends laughed.


    "Yeah, right, ''friends'' with a big ass!"


    Ayman ignored them, his focus solely on Yasmin. He gave a small wave, signaling to his friends to knock it off, before turning back to her.


    Yasmin didn’t seem to notice or care about the teasing. Her concern was genuine, and it softened Ayman, even in his intoxicated state. She stepped closer, looking him up and down, her eyes scanning his face carefully.


    "Ayman, you really don’t look okay. Are you sure you’re alright?" She asked again, her voice laced with worry.


    Ayman nodded quickly, though the tiredness in his voice betrayed his efforts. "I’ll be fine. Really, just a bar fight, nothing serious. Don’t worry about me."


    Yasmin still seemed unsure, but she pulled out her wallet and handed him a few crumpled bills. "Here," she said, pressing the 10 dinars into his hand. "Buy some food for your kittens, okay? They need to be taken care of. Make sure they’re alright."


    Ayman blinked in surprise, his fingers wrapping around the money. It was a simple gesture, but it meant more than he expected.


    "Thanks, Yasmin," he said, his voice softening. "I will, I promise. I’ll take care of them."


    Yasmin gave him a small smile, her eyes warm with kindness. "I’m serious, Ayman. Don’t let yourself get hurt, okay?" She stepped back, her shoulders heavy from her day, but still, she looked at him as though she saw more than just the tough guy fa?ade he had built.


    Ayman watched her walk away, feeling a pang of something unfamiliar stir inside him. He tucked the 10 dinars into his pocket and turned back toward his friends, who were still laughing and joking. He wasn’t ready to go back to the lies just yet, not after that moment with Yasmin.


    As he approached, Sami slapped him on the back with a grin. "So, what did she say, huh? You gonna get that girl?"


    Ayman gave him a smirk but didn’t reply. His mind was elsewhere, focused on the simplicity of Yasmin’s kindness. She saw him—just him, not the image he was trying to create. For a moment, he felt a little bit more human.