We arrived at his 2-storey apartment in Eccles New Road, Salford, a quieter neighbourhood compared to Rusholme. I went straight to the guest room, leaving my non-edible purchase before entering Nick's room. I witnessed him undress himself, baring his upper body to reveal all of his tattoos.

His tattoo I would describe are clusters of designs, images, symbols and patterns connected to one another, encircling a small rounded floral frame at the centre of his chest. I recalled Nick's explanation to each of them some nights ago. The tattoo was meant to cover some scars he had in his body. The floral frame at the centre of his chest with a name Fatima Mohammadi emblazoned in the middle was the origin point to all its creations before other designs gradually added in encircling it. Fatima Mohammadi is his late mom.

He also had image of his mom imprinted on his right arm, the same image of a woman I saw at the A&E. The image of her, the facial lines and colour of her skin were so detailed that I can imagine how beautiful she was in real life.

I noted that the dragon and sakura was a gift during his visit to Tokyo, designed by a local friend, expressing his ferocious traits while being tender. The trinity knot symbol with an eye in the middle was a symbol to his membership, the creed he belonged to. The laceration and the gash images that spread around his canvas were not only meant to instil fear to those who see it but also to convey to them that he was in pain.

"Zahida," Nick called out to me, hauling me from my flashback. "I'm heading for a shower, care to join me?"

"It's okay, you go ahead," I replied. "I've got some unpacking to do."

"Okay," he said, kissing me on the forehead.

I stocked up the groceries into its designated place, familiarising with the area in the apartment. That's when I heard notification ping sounds coming from his iPhone on the coffee table relentlessly ringing for approximately three minutes straight. I pressed the home button and saw series of emails from [email protected] appeared in the notification panel.

Curious, I turned on my laptop to gain access to his Gmail account. There were new 25 unread mails coming from [email protected] without a subject. I initially felt uneasy with what I was about to open but I went on with the topmost unread emails.

Seconds later, the email zoomed open without any written content except for image attachments appeared, making me hold my breath. I clicked the attachment and it was images of Nick holding a malnutrition child on his lap, surrounded by other four small skinny local children of various ages and sizes playfully interacting with him. It is believed that these children were from the local community where the picture was taken.

My curiosity intensified, I went straight for the earliest email and clicked open. This one had a message from [email protected] with another image attached to it:

"Dear Brother Nekmat,

I know you hate having your pictures taken but please have them as something to remember us in Bissau.

P/S - The kids misses you

Regards, H. Akbari"

Although these images are warming, they somehow disturbed my cognitive process, making sudden alterations to the conjectures of my thought framework. Apparently, Nick is more complicated than I understood.

I exed out the email and exhaled. I closed the laptop lid, placed it at the coffee table in front of me and contemplated at his garden balcony. It finally dawned to me that Nick has strong affection towards children which explains why he was extremely upset about the contraceptives.

And it also occurred to me that Nick's warm heart expanded to the needy beyond boundaries. But why was he ashamed of this? Like being good is no longer noble and desirable, it's a sin. The only possible explanation I could draw from this was the disapproval from his dad.