It happened at the team dinner.
A long table, too many drinks, laughter echoing off the restaurant walls. Zara sat beside Malik, as usual. No one questioned it—until now.
She leaned in to whisper something about the dessert menu, and he turned his head too quickly. Their faces were inches apart. Her hand was already on his arm.
It was instinct. Familiar. Intimate.
And it didn't go unnoticed.
"Hmm," said Tolu, across the table, raising an eyebrow. "You two are looking cozy tonight."
Zara froze. Malik blinked. Tolu was smiling, but her eyes were sharp.
"Just friends," Zara said, too quickly.
Malik laughed, but it sounded forced. "She's just trying to convince me to order the lava cake."
Tolu tilted her head. "Right. Lava cake."
The moment passed, but the air felt heavier. Zara didn't touch Malik again that night.
Later, in the parking lot, they stood beside her car, the streetlights casting long shadows.
"She saw," Zara said.
"She suspects," Malik corrected. "There's a difference."
Zara looked at him. "Do you think we're being obvious?"
He hesitated. "I think we're being real. And real is hard to hide."
She exhaled. "I don't want to lie. But I'm not ready to explain us."
Malik nodded. "Then we stay careful. Until we're ready."
He reached for her hand, just for a second. A squeeze. A promise.
But even secrets whispered in the dark have echoes.