He hadn't touched his food.
Cairo sat in his room, the same hoodie from last night still on his back, stained with Zayn's blood—and maybe a little of his own.
But it wasn't the fight that haunted him.
It was her fall.
The way her body hit the ground.
The small, gasping sound she made when his elbow brushed her cheek.
He hadn't even known she was there.
He hadn't meant to.
The street outside was quiet now. The storm had passed, but inside Cairo's chest, the thunder was still crawling.
From his window, he could see her balcony.
Lights off. Curtains still drawn.
No movement.
He had stayed up all night.
Pacing. Regretting.
Replaying the moment like a punishment.
"She wasn't supposed to see that side of me."
But she had.
He poured a glass of water. Didn't drink it.
He looked at his bruised knuckles. Then at his reflection.
The scratch on his face didn't matter.
The bruise on her cheek did.
"She was just trying to help…"
And he hit her.
By accident.
But still… he hit her.
He tried to write.
Tried to distract himself.
But everything he touched turned to her.
The way her voice cracked when she screamed their names.
The look in her eyes when she fell
The silence after Zayn carried her away.
Zayn…
Cairo clenched his fist again.
"So he gets to comfort her now?"
Morning came.
Birds chirped. Light leaked into the room. Life moved on.
But Cairo didn't.
Not yet.
Because the one girl who never spoke to him much, who never looked at him too long—
Was now the only one he couldn't stop thinking about.
And Cairo?
He didn't like feeling human.
But somehow, she made him bleed without even touching him.