Ariana entered the study room that afternoon, expecting an empty hall. Instead, she found Kian sitting alone, head resting in his hand, lost in thought.
He looked… troubled. 😕
"Kian?" she asked gently.
He straightened instantly, trying to mask the emotion in his eyes.
"You came."
"Of course I came," she said softly, taking the seat beside him.
He didn't speak for a while. They studied in silence, though Ariana could feel the tension beneath it—not uncomfortable, but heavy with unsaid words.
At one point, Kian reached for a book at the same time she did. Their fingers brushed—light, accidental, yet enough to send a spark racing through her.
Neither moved their hand away for several seconds.
His voice was barely a whisper.
"Why does it feel… like I can't think straight around you?"
Ariana's breath hitched.
"Maybe because you're feeling something," she whispered.
Kian swallowed, his eyes dropping to their still-touching hands.
"Maybe," he murmured. "And that scares me."
Ariana's heart softened.
She slowly turned her hand, gently interlacing her fingers with his.
Kian froze;but didn't pull away.
For the first time, he allowed himself to simply feel. No walls. No masks. Just quiet emotion between them.
He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling shakily.
"You make everything feel… too real."
"And is that a bad thing?" Ariana asked softly.
His eyes opened, warm and conflicted.
"No," he whispered. "It's the best thing. That's the problem." 😔