They call me Aramight ,a name I never bothered explaining. I carry it like armor, thick and cold, the kind that keeps people from getting too close.
Campus life was exactly what I expected: chaotic, loud, filled with people trying too hard to be seen. I, on the other hand, mastered the art of being invisible when I wanted, and unforgettable when I chose. Some called me a savage; others said I was a ghost. I didn't care. Trust wasn't free, and I didn't owe the world anything.
I did things my way , solo library sessions at midnight, earphones always plugged in, and parties I showed up to only when I needed a distraction. I laughed when I wanted, disappeared when I needed, and never, ever let anyone in. Especially girls. They were the worst — pretty smiles hiding sharpened tongues.
But then she happened.
*Ariyah *
She sat next to me in Psych 201, uninvited and unwelcome. She asked about my notebook like she hadn't noticed my wall of silence. But there was something about her …persistent, patient, almost annoyingly soft. Over time, her presence stopped feeling like a poke and started feeling... grounding.
She didn't push. She didn't pretend. She just showed up. Day after day. A text when I skipped class. A bottle of cold coffee during group projects. She broke past my layers without force — just quiet consistency.
With her, I laughed. Like real, stomach-twisting, messy laughing. I told her about my past , about being raised in a home where "don't trust anyone" was served with breakfast. About betrayal that ran deeper than blood.
Ariyah never judged. She just listened. She called me out when I acted like a brat, and hugged me harder when I cried behind locked doors. She was the realest thing I'd ever met.
And then came *Zayn*.
He wasn't loud like the others. He had this calm energy, the kind that made you want to open up even when you swore you wouldn't. Ariyah introduced us … casually, like it wasn't about to change everything.
At first, I pushed him away. Classic me. But he stayed. Just like she did. And suddenly, I was falling — not just for a guy — but into a world where trust didn't have to mean pain.
Zayn loved me without conditions. He didn't flinch at my scars, didn't run when I showed him the fire behind my walls. He called me out on my fear. He kissed me like he meant it. And for the first time, I let someone love me.
But healing isn't linear.
There were setbacks. A mistake I made. A lie I told out of fear. And suddenly, I was about to lose the two people who meant everything. That's when I realized: real love — and real friendship — isn't about perfection. It's about forgiveness.
*"My Real Friend"* isn't just a story about how I found love.
It's about how one girl — soft in a hard world — cracked open my soul and made room for a different kind of strength: connection.
It's about falling, failing, and still being worthy of a second chance.
And I'm here to tell it all.