The morning didn't feel normal.
The clouds hung too low. The breeze kissed her skin like an apology, soft and cold. Ayra arrived early — earlier than usual — because she couldn't sleep. Not after Cairo left through her window, not after the weight in her chest stayed heavy all night.
But the moment she stepped into the corridor…
She saw him.
Zayn.
Hands in pockets, backpack hanging loose, walking with that quiet rhythm only he had. His eyes didn't roam. His head didn't turn.
And for the first time in weeks—
He didn't look at her.
Ayra's steps faltered.
He passed her like she was glass. Not shattered, not cracked — just invisible. No tension in his shoulders, no pause in his pace. Like they never stayed up whispering through their windows. Like she never caught his gaze when the world felt too loud.
Her throat tightened.
She turned, hoping — just maybe — he'd look back.
He didn't.
Not even once.
Cairo called her name minutes later, loud and teasing as he approached. She gave him a small smile, nodding without really hearing him. Her eyes still fixed on the hallway Zayn disappeared into.
Because sometimes it's not the slap of heartbreak that hurts most—
It's the silence of being replaced by nothing