The sky was too bright for a Monday.
Too loud. Too blue.
Too awake.
Ayra stepped into the school gate, bag slung low, earphones in, heart… neutral. She'd had enough drama for one lifetime, and school was her escape — a world with rules, bells, and people who mostly minded their business.
Mostly.
She walked through the corridor, avoiding familiar faces, keeping her energy low — until she noticed it.
The change.
Girls whispering. Boys pretending not to stare.
Phones tilted just slightly as they recorded a scene near the entrance
That's when she saw him.
Zayn.
Leaning casually against the wall like usual — black backpack, head tilted, uninterested in the noise.
But next to him…
Another boy.
Taller. Skin like carved bronze. Hair twisted back in a messy-but-rich-boy kind of way.
Gold earring in one ear. Designer shoes already dirty — not because he didn't care, but because he knew it wouldn't matter.
He was laughing.
But it wasn't soft.
It was sharp. Loud. The kind of laugh that made people flinch and still want to be near it.
Beside him stood three others. His crew, clearly. Not quite shadows — more like extensions of his chaos. One chewing gum like he owned the air. Another with rings on every finger. The last one too quiet, too unreadable.
They weren't just new.
They were a storm. And the school knew it.
Ayra slowed her steps. Her eyes flicked from Zayn to the boy beside him — and in that instant, she understood.
They knew each other. Deeply.
Zayn wasn't smiling, but he wasn't surprised.
The boy clapped Zayn on the back, grinning.
"My guy still cold as ever,"
he said loudly, voice silk wrapped in trouble.
Zayn gave a small nod. The way you greet someone you used to fight beside — or maybe against.
Ayra felt something shift inside her. Something cold. Something like… warning.
She didn't know this boy.
But something told her — this wasn't just another rich new student.
This was someone who'd come to shift the story.
And not gently.