Zendaya's POV
It's funny how someone can make you feel special at midnight… and invisible by morning.
My phone buzzed at 12:43 a.m.
I didn't even have to check. I knew it was him.
Ransford.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds before opening it, pretending I had self-control when I clearly didn't.
Ransford: "You awake?"
He always started like that. Casual. Like he didn't already know I would answer.
I waited thirty seconds before replying. I don't know who I was trying to fool.
Me: "Yeah."
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Ransford: "Can I talk to you?"
And just like that, my heart softened.
He never said please. He never had to.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my dorm room.
Me: "What's wrong?"
There it was again. That instinct. That need to fix whatever was broken inside him.
His reply came in pieces.
"It's Beatrice."
"I don't think she sees me the way I see her."
"It's frustrating."
My chest tightened.
Of course it was Beatrice.
It was always Beatrice.
Still, I typed carefully.
Me: "Maybe you just need to give her time."
There was a long pause.
Then—
"You're different, Zendaya."
"You actually listen."
"I don't know what I'd do without you."
I swallowed.
That sentence. That dangerous, beautiful sentence.
I don't know what I'd do without you.
It wrapped around my heart like silk. Soft. Gentle. Deceptive.
For a moment, I let myself imagine he meant something deeper. That maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see me.
But even as my heart fluttered, I knew the truth.
He needed me.
But he didn't want me.
And somehow, I had convinced myself that being needed was enough.
We talked for almost an hour. Mostly about his feelings. His confusion. His frustration. I responded like I always did—calm, supportive, steady.
When he finally said goodnight, I stared at our chat for a long time.
He ended it with:
"You're important to me."
Important.
Not loved.
Not chosen.
Just… important.
Still, I fell asleep smiling.
The next morning felt colder.
Campus was louder than usual, or maybe it was just my thoughts echoing too much.
I spotted them before they saw me.
Ransford and Beatrice.
Outside the faculty building.
He was leaning slightly toward her, laughing at something she said. The kind of laugh he only uses when he's trying to impress someone.
She touched his arm lightly.
He didn't move it away.
I slowed down.
Why did I slow down?
I don't know. Maybe I wanted to see if he'd notice me. Maybe I wanted proof that I mattered in daylight too.
Beatrice saw me first.
"Zendaya!" she waved brightly.
Ransford turned.
For half a second, his eyes met mine.
That same softness from last night flickered there.
Then it disappeared.
"Hey," he said casually.
Just hey.
No warmth. No secret smile. No trace of the midnight version of him.
I stepped closer, forcing my lips to curve upward.
"Morning."
There was an awkward pause.
Then one of his friends walked by and nudged him.
"Ei, Ransford," the guy smirked. "You and Zendaya are always together these days. What's going on there?"
My heart stopped.
I didn't breathe.
This was it.
This was the moment.
Ransford laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Relax," he said, shaking his head. "Zendaya? She's cool. Don't read too much into it."
Cool.
Don't read too much into it.
Something inside me cracked quietly.
Cool.
After midnight confessions. After "I don't know what I'd do without you." After every moment I showed up for him.
Cool.
I felt Beatrice glance at me, but I couldn't look at her.
I couldn't look at anyone.
Ransford went back to talking like nothing happened. Like he hadn't just reduced me to something convenient.
Invisible.
Disposable.
I stood there for a few more seconds before muttering, "I have class," even though I didn't.
No one stopped me.
I walked aimlessly across campus, my chest tight, my thoughts loud.
Why did it hurt this much?
He never promised me anything.
He never said he loved me.
So why did it feel like betrayal?
Maybe because of the way he made me feel at night.
Maybe because I let myself believe that meant something.
I sat on a bench near the library and stared at my phone.
There was a message from Beatrice.
"You okay?"
I typed back quickly.
"Yeah. Just tired."
Lie.
Another notification appeared.
Ransford.
Of course.
I hesitated before opening it.
"You left suddenly."
That was it.
No apology.
No explanation.
Just an observation.
I didn't reply.
Five minutes passed.
Another message.
"Are you mad?"
I stared at the screen, my reflection faint in the glass.
Mad?
Was I allowed to be?
What was I to him?
Not a girlfriend.
Not a priority.
Just cool.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I wanted to say:
You embarrassed me.
You made me feel small.
You make me feel like I only exist in private.
But instead, I locked my phone.
For the first time, I didn't rush to reassure him.
The day dragged.
Every time I saw him laughing with Beatrice, something inside me hardened slightly.
Not enough to break free.
But enough to notice the difference.
That evening, my phone buzzed again.
Ransford.
I didn't open it immediately.
I let it sit there.
Buzzing.
Demanding.
When I finally unlocked my screen, my heart sank.
"Can you come over tonight?"
"I need you."
There it was again.
That word.
Need.
Not want.
Not choose.
Need.
I stared at the message, my thoughts spiraling.
If I went, everything would continue the same way. Midnight softness. Morning indifference.
If I didn't…
What would happen?
Another message came in.
"Zendaya?"
Then another.
"Don't ignore me."
My chest tightened.
Then the final one appeared.
"If you don't come, don't blame me for what happens tonight."
I froze.
What does that even mean?
My hands started shaking.
Was that a threat? A warning? Or just another attempt to pull me back in?
I looked at the screen for a long time.
Then slowly, I placed my phone face down on my desk.
The room felt too quiet.
Too heavy.
For the first time since I met Ransford Adams…
I didn't know if I was going to choose him.
And that terrified me.