Malik felt his jaw tense.
He didn't turn, didn't speak, just stood near the edge of it all, watching. Listening.
Everyone knew the song—heard it a dozen times over, played at every victory.
But him?
He KNEW the song.
And just like last time, he hated it.
Hated how it got turned into some anthem of glory, a pretty little tune for sacrifice and celebration.
As if Rehan and the others' deaths were all just part of the chorus.
Still, that didn't mean he'd do anything to ruin the mood.
They saw it fit for celebration and he respected that.
Not everything in the world needed to be something he agreed with.
And so, he watched as Duban and his bride climbed the stairs.
"We stood, we swayed, we held the line,"
"But the tide ran high."
"One by one, we fell in turn,"
"Yet we did not die..."
People were quiet.
Faces turned.
Most were smiling, some crying. Others just remembering.
