The air was different the next morning. Still, heavy, and loud with silence.
Ayra had barely stepped outside when she noticed the chill wasn't from the wind — it was from Zayn.
He hadn't texted her since the night he asked her not to go. The way his jaw clenched when their eyes met in class… the way his hand tightened around his pen when Cairo passed behind her — it said everything he wouldn't.
She hated it.
She hated how he looked like he was made of steel, but his eyes… they cracked.
In the hallway, between Economics and Literature, she was walking fast — hoping not to run into either of them. But fate, of course, had other plans.
Zayn was leaning by the wall near her locker.
No words. Just him. And his silence.
"You weren't in the second class," he said, voice calm… too calm.
"I wasn't feeling well," she lied.
He nodded slowly, then took a step closer.
His eyes held something sharp. Not angry. Just… hurt.
"Did you go?"
She didn't reply.
Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "Zayn—"
"Don't lie to me, Ayra."
That's when her heart dropped.
He wasn't angry at Cairo.
He wasn't even jealous anymore.
He just wanted the truth. From her.
"I just replied him. That's all," she whispered.
Zayn didn't say anything for a while. Then he nodded, took a slow breath, and gave a small, tired smile.
"You don't owe me anything… but I hope you know what you're doing."
And then he walked away.
And Ayra?
She stood there… feeling like the hallway had collapsed around her.
Because the truth was… she didn't know what she was doing anymore.
Not with Cairo.
And definitely not with Zayn