Ayra didn't sleep.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she didn't want to.
Her blanket wrapped around her knees on the floor, the echo of Zayn's brother's voice haunted the room like a second heartbeat.
"He'll burn himself for someone he loves."
And now she sat in the dark, staring at her phone, wondering what she'd never thought she'd have to:
Was Zayn dangerous?
No.
That wasn't the right question.
Was he already broken?
The next day,
Campus didn't wait for her to process anything. The sun blazed too brightly. Laughter sounded too loud.
Cairo met her at the hallway corner, arms folded, eyes low.
"You okay?" he asked, voice steady.
Ayra gave a nod too slow, too fake.
"I heard Zayn's brother came around," Cairo added.
She blinked. "How?"
Cairo raised an eyebrow. "He came to my house after. You forgot we were… neighbors?"
"Right," she murmured.
"Be careful with that boy," he said, and his tone dropped an octave. "Even broken glass shines when it catches light."
Ayra's breath caught.
She knew what this was. Cairo was drawing lines. Slowly. Quietly.
Zayn is the fire.
Cairo is the smoke.
And she was stuck breathing both.
That evening,
Zayn stood on the field behind the class blocks, skipping stones into nothingness.
Ayra walked toward him, alone. Wind in her hair. Questions in her chest.
He didn't turn when she approached.
"I met your brother," she said.
He froze
Ayra stepped beside him, eyes on the invisible horizon. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Zayn's fingers twitched.
"Because you'd leave," he whispered.
She turned to face him, voice breaking. "You really think I'm that soft?"
Zayn looked at her then—really looked. His eyes were tired.
"No," he said. "I think I'm too much."
Her throat ached.
"You're not," she whispered.
He looked away again. "I might be. Cairo knows."
Ayra's heart dropped.
"Wait… Cairo knows about your past?"
Zay gave a tired smirk. "Of course. He was there, that night."
She stepped back.
The world shifted again.
Two boys. One past. And she stood in the middle of a story she never wrote.