Zayn didn't mean to overhear.
He wasn't even trying.
But boys talk. Loudly.
"It was that Cairo that strolled with that fine babe yesterday?" one guy laughed near the cafeteria stairs.
"The dark-skinned girl with sleepy eyes?"
" Yeah!They said Cairo took her somewhere . Just the two of them."
The tray in Zayn's hand nearly slipped. He didn't ask for details. He didn't need to.
His silence said it all.
He walked past them.
Didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
But inside, something broke — and quietly begged for glue
Ayra sat on her bed, legs tucked under her, phone in hand.
CAIRO:
Still thinking about what I said? No pressure. But I'm not the type to wait around forever, beautiful.
She exhaled, rubbing her forehead.
There was something bold about Cairo. He didn't tiptoe. He didn't hide. He made her feel seen.
But Zayn… Zayn touched something deeper, something she wasn't even sure had a name yet.
She tapped her screen.
Then tapped back.
But didn't reply.
The text just sat there, blinking.
A decision, waiting.
Meanwhile, across the street from her window, Zayn watched his phone screen light up.
He didn't message her.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because he didn't know how to say:
"Please choose me. Even when I make it hard to.