We arrived at his 2-storey apartment in Eccles New Road, Salford, a quieter neighbourhood compared to Rusholme. This was not my first visit as I have been to his apartment a couple of times, even some of my essential items were already there.

The apartment has a spacious balcony on each floor and access to the communal gardens. Nick has a simplistic contemporary home with a few bold art pieces in some main areas. As we entered his property, I could see a large painting at the end of the passageway from afar. Painted by a Palestinian artist, it is an artwork of hundreds or maybe thousands of small colorful dabs within the color spectrum that formed two semi-automatic shotguns overlapping over one another diagonally. We walked past the kitchen into a spacious area meant for dining and laundering while the lower floor balcony opens to a lounging and drying area. The upper floor is basically the TV common room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms (one ensuite to the master bedroom and one common) and a mini garden balcony next to the TV room. His bedroom was the master bedroom while the other smaller room adjacent to his was meant for study or for guests. There was another large artwork framed on the wall of the TV room, was a painting of Band-e Amir lakes daubed in various shades of blue and green, overlooking a beautiful white mountain.

I stowed my duffel bag inside the built-in cabinet and stored the clear container box next to the desk in the guest room. I walked out of the guest room into Nick's room, witnessing him undress himself, baring his upper body to reveal all of his tattoos.

They are a series of all forms of designs, images, symbols and patterns connected to one another surrounding 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 of its creations before other designs gradually added in encircling it. Fatima Mohammadi is his mom's name. He also had his mom imprinted on his right arm, the same image of a woman I saw at the gym and at A&E. The image of her, the facial lines and color 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.

I remember touching the intricate lines on his skin, some were his firsts with subtle bumps while others are more new and smooth becoming one with the skin. I asked him previously if they were painful. "It was prickling at first," he said, "But not as painful as what I've been through my whole life".

"Zahida," Nick called out to me, hauling me from my flashback. He held out his hand for mine and I reached for it. He placed my palm on his chest, allowing me to trace the lines on his skin and the contours of his profile with my fingers. "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'll leave the door unlocked in case you change your mind."

I stocked up the groceries into its designated place, familiarising with the area in the apartment. Then I went back into the guest room to transfer some of my clothes into his drawers. As I was stowing my bag away, I heard notification ping sounds coming from his iPhone on the coffee table relentlessly ringing for approximately three minutes straight. I picked it up and cautiously tried to identify its source without going through its contents. Miscalls of an unknown non-UK number appeared on the screen followed by a series of emails from [email protected] came in simultaneously. I searched for the unknown number which turns out that the miscall was from Guinea-Bissau.

Curious, I switched on my laptop and gained access to his Gmail account. I wasn't sure if this was called stalking and if I have the right to do so but I was given access to this account prior for work related matters, definitely stalking would not be the case. And definitely Nick would acknowledge this.

There were 25 unread mails coming from that email address without a subject. I was beginning to feel uneasy with this sender and the contents that I was about to open. I navigated the cursor to the topmost unread emails and began to click. Seconds later, the email zoomed open without any written content except for an image attachment and the sender's preset signature 'Regards, H. Akbari' at the bottom of the email. The image swiftly appeared in front of my eyes, making me hold my breath.

It was an image of Nick being captured from a distance, like a celebrity being stalked by a paparazzi. He was in his casual t-shirt and slacks, sitting on a dusty earth with a 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 are from a poor country where this photo was taken.

My curiosity intensified, I went straight for the earliest email among the bundle, located at the bottom of the pile and opened them. This one had a message from its sender with another image attached to it:

"Dear Brother Nekmat,

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

P/S - The kids misses you"

Another image of him at the same location overlooking an aerial view of a slum area. He was wearing an orange volunteer vest, holding another skinny child in his arms while walking to follow a paramedic in front of him. He was facing down towards the child, looking concerned while the child looked weak, like he was suffering from malnutrition.

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 decided to look at another email just to draw another premise, this time was a short 20 seconds video, showing volunteers assembling and listening to a debrief. Nick was vividly seen, standing on a front row holding a local infant, resting her head on his shoulder, while his other hand holding her back to secure. He rocked the baby side to side while one volunteer behind him gently touched the baby's head as she fell asleep on his shoulder. When he spotted the camera recording, he looked away, turned towards the volunteer behind him and shuffled behind her to hide himself.

I exed out the email and exhaled heavily. I closed the laptop lid, placed it at the coffee table in front of me, leaned back and turned my head towards the mini garden in the balcony, appreciating the view beyond. It finally dawned to me that Nick has strong affection towards children which explains why he was extremely upset about the contraceptives. Perhaps my childish nature could be the reason why he was attracted to me but I was assuming that. 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 issue was the disapproval by his dad and the business that he soon had to take over.