Amara tried to focus.
She really did.
But every ten minutes, her eyes drifted to the door.
Kian had been gone for over an hour.
The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, but the unease in her chest only grew heavier.
She rearranged her books twice, reread the same paragraph without absorbing a word, and finally gave up.
Something was wrong.
When the door finally opened, she knew it instantly.
Kian stepped in quietly, his usual ease missing. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, like he was carrying something he hadn't figured out how to put down yet.
Her heart dropped. "What happened?"
He didn't answer right away. He closed the door, leaned back against it, and exhaled slowly.
"They know," he said.
Her stomach twisted. "Know what?"
"About us. About the room."
She stood up. "Who?"
"The hostel management. The Dean's office." His mouth curved into a humorless smile. "Apparently, we're a topic of interest."
Amara felt cold all over. "What did they say?"
"That it's 'inappropriate.'" He quoted with his fingers. "That mixed housing wasn't approved under these circumstances."
"But they put us together," she said. "This was their mistake."
"I said that."
"And?"
"They don't care."
Silence crashed between them.
"So what happens now?" she asked quietly.
Kian hesitated.
Her chest tightened. "Kian."
"They're giving us options," he said. "One of us requests a transfer. Immediately."
The word echoed in her head.
Transfer.
Her voice came out smaller than she intended. "And if we don't?"
His eyes met hers. "Then they'll do it for us."
Amara sat down slowly.
This wasn't gossip anymore. This wasn't whispers in hallways or teasing glances. This was real. Official. Final.
"I can move," she said before she could think too much about it.
He frowned. "No."
"I'm the one people already talk about," she continued. "It makes more sense."
"It's not about sense," he said sharply. "It's about fairness."
She looked up at him. "Since when does the school care about fairness?"
He had no answer.
They sat there, the space between them suddenly fragile, precious.
"This is my fault," she whispered.
His head snapped up. "Don't."
"If I hadn't—"
"No." He crossed the room and stopped in front of her. "This isn't your fault. And I'm not letting you carry it."
Her eyes burned. "Then what do we do?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "We decide."
"Together?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
That word landed differently.
Together.
A knock sounded on the door.
Both of them froze.
Kian opened it to find Sade standing there, arms crossed, concern etched across her face.
"I heard," she said softly. "The whole hostel's buzzing."
Amara stood. "We're fine."
Sade didn't look convinced. "Are you?"
No one answered.
Sade sighed. "Whatever you choose… choose fast. They won't wait."
After she left, the room felt smaller than ever.
Kian turned to Amara. "If I leave—"
Her heart jumped painfully.
"—it'll be because I chose to," he finished. "Not because they pushed me."
She swallowed. "And if I leave?"
His voice dropped. "Then I'll hate that they made you."
They stared at each other, the truth finally impossible to ignore.
This wasn't just about a room anymore.
It was about what they were willing to lose.
And what they weren't.
As night fell, neither of them slept.
Because by morning—
A choice would have to be made.