The bell rang.
Classrooms filled with noise, movement, morning chatter.
But when Cairo walked in, silence followed him like a loyal dog.
Bruised lip.
Cut across his brow.
His dark hoodie pulled low.
Eyes colder than usual.
People stared.
Whispered.
But no one dared speak to him
Zayn came in next.
No hoodie.
No attempt to hide the fresh purple bruise on his cheekbone.
Only the steel in his jaw and the warning in his eyes.
He walked slower than usual—like his body hurt, but his pride hurt more.
And when he saw Cairo already seated across the room, their eyes locked for a second.
One second too long.
"Round two?" someone muttered behind their hands.
But nothing happened.
No punches.
No words.
Just silence.
Like two storms pretending to be clouds
"She's not in class today," someone whispered.
"Who?"
"That girl… Ayra."
Zayn's eyes twitched.
Cairo blinked.
Of course she wasn't here
Outside, Ayra sat by her window, curled up in her hoodie, nursing her ache and the weight of what happened.
She couldn't go.
Not yet.
Not when her cheek still pulsed.
Not when their fight still echoed in her head
Back in school, the teacher droned on.
But Zayn didn't write.
Cairo didn't look up.
And the class… couldn't breathe.
It felt like something had changed.
Like Ayra's absence had become louder than her presence ever was.
After class, someone bumped into Cairo in the hallway. He didn't react.
But his knuckles were still bruised.
And Zayn? He was standing by the lockers like he was waiting for someone who wouldn't come