Ayra stared at her screen.
Still blinking.
Still waiting.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling like a confession.
Then she typed:
AYRA:
Let's talk. But only if it's not a game, Cairo.
She hit send.
Not because she had fully chosen him—
But because silence was starting to feel louder than her thoughts
Zayn didn't knock.
Didn't pause.
He walked straight into the boys' gym, where Cairo was laughing with his crew—until he saw Zayn's face.
"Got a problem?" Cairo raised a brow.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" Zayn's voice was ice. "Stay away from her."
"Or what?" Cairo stood. "You finally gonna act like you care?"
It was subtle. It was stupid.
But Zayn punched him.
Not hard enough to start a fight.
Just hard enough to speak.
Th room froze.
Blood at the corner of Cairo's lip.
Laughter vanished.
But Cairo only smiled.
"She doesn't even know who you are, Zayn."
Zayn didn't reply.
He just walked out — not because he lost,
but because he couldn't trust himself not to.
That night, Ayra waited by her window.
Zayn didn't show.
But Cairo's light blinked from two doors down.
She exhaled, turning to close her curtain—when a sharp knock hit her door.
She opened it.
It wasn't Zayn.
It wasn't Cairo.
It was the guy she thought she'd never see again.
Zayn's older brother.
And he didn't come to talk.
He came with news that would change everything