They didn't announce it.
There was no Instagram post, no dramatic reveal. Just a quiet shift—hands held in public, smiles that lingered, Malik walking Zara to her car without pretending it was coincidence.
People noticed.
Some smiled. Some whispered. Some stared too long.
Zara felt it most at work. The way colleagues paused when she entered a room. The way her manager asked, "Everything okay between you and Malik?" with a tone that wasn't entirely professional.
Malik brushed it off. "Let them talk," he said. "We're not doing anything wrong."
But Zara felt exposed. Like every glance was a judgment. Like every mistake would be blamed on love.
Tolu was supportive, but distant. Still healing. Still adjusting.
And then came the first real fight.
It was small—about a missed dinner, a forgotten text. But it spiraled.
"You're pulling away," Malik said.
"I'm trying to protect what we have," Zara snapped.
"By hiding again?"
"No. By being careful."
Malik looked at her, hurt flickering in his eyes. "We're not in the shadows anymore. But you still act like we are."
Zara turned away. "I don't know how to do this."
He stepped closer. "Neither do I. But I want to learn—with you."
She didn't answer right away.
Later, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if love in the light was harder than she'd imagined.
It was beautiful. But it was also real.
And real came with cracks.