The afternoon sun scorched the rooftop, where Azril stood alone, leaning against the metal railing.
Up here, above the noise of the school, the city stretched endlessly — a sea of glass, steel, and dreams he didn't quite belong to.
The wind brushed his hair lightly, carrying with it the faint scent of gasoline and fried food from the streets below.
It was the closest thing to fresh air he'd found since leaving his village.
Azril closed his eyes for a moment.
His stomach grumbled again, sharp and painful.
He pressed a hand over it, muttering under his breath.
"Sabar, Azril... Hunger is nothing compared to what you've faced before."
"Keep your goal in sight."
He thought of his mother, kneeling in prayer, her hands raised with hope.
He thought of his father, pushing his broken body day after day so Azril could have a chance at a better life.
He couldn't — he wouldn't — let hunger or humiliation defeat him.
Not now. Not ever.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the soft footsteps behind him until a shadow cut across the sun.
"You're tougher than you look," a voice said casually.
Azril turned.
A girl stood there, arms crossed, an amused glint in her sharp eyes.
Her uniform was perfect, her shoes shined, and her presence was... different.
Not mocking.
Not hostile.
Just... observant.
Azril said nothing, sizing her up silently.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You made quite an impression downstairs," she said, her lips twitching into a slight smile. "Most people fold when Hafiz confronts them. You didn't even blink."
Azril shrugged, turning back to face the horizon.
"I'm not here for them," he said simply.
"I'm here for my future."
There was a brief pause.
Then something small flew through the air toward him.
Azril caught it instinctively — a soft, warm bun, still wrapped from the cafeteria.
He stared at it, confused.
The girl smirked.
"Consider it a reward. Or maybe a bribe," she said lightly. "A guy like you might come in handy someday."
Azril's grip tightened slightly around the bun.
He didn't trust easily — especially not here, not now.
But a part of him, the part that had learned to find hope in the smallest gestures, refused to throw away an act of kindness.
He gave a slight nod.
The girl spun on her heel and walked away, her ponytail swinging behind her.
Before disappearing through the rooftop door, she called back over her shoulder:
"Name's Iman. You'll need to remember it."
Azril watched her leave, the bun still warm in his hand.
For the first time since stepping into this brutal, alien world, he allowed himself a small, real smile.
Maybe... just maybe... he wasn't entirely alone.
But he knew better than to relax.
This place would chew him up if he wasn't careful.
Still, he made a silent vow.
"I will survive this place."
"I will graduate."
"I will make them see."
"And one day... I will make my family proud."
He took a bite of the bun — the first real meal he'd had since morning — and let the fire inside him burn e
ven brighter.
The war had only just begun.
And Azril was ready.
[End of Chapter 3]