Trust is like glass — once shattered, even the strongest glue can't make it the same again.
That's what I told myself every time Ariyah tried to get close. I watched her from a distance at first — her laughter too bright, her heart too open. She didn't belong in my world of calculated silence and cold exits. But she kept showing up.
We were assigned as lab partners for an entire semester. Great.
The first week, I barely spoke. I let my eyes do the talking — those sharp glances that usually warned people to stay away. Ariyah, though? She just smiled. Not that fake kind. It was like she could see through my barbed-wire personality and wasn't afraid of what lived underneath.
One day, after class, she asked, "Do you always walk alone?"
I shrugged. "I don't do the clingy thing."
She smirked. "Neither do I. I just… walk with people I vibe with."
She didn't wait for a reply. She just walked beside me — not talking, not asking — just being there. And weirdly, it felt... okay.
***
Over the next few weeks, we kept bumping into each other — at the café, in study halls, even during late-night walks I used for clearing my mind. Coincidence? Maybe. But the universe seemed to be pushing us together.
He was different. No cheesy lines, no pushy energy. Just... presence. And with every passing day, the walls I built started to crack. Slowly.
But fear? It doesn't go away just because someone is kind.
And I was about to make a choice that could ruin everything — the kind of mistake born out of habit, not intention.
***
A few weeks passed, and slowly, I let her in. Not completely, but enough. She learned I hated olives, that I used music to escape, that I once ran away for two days just to prove a point to my mom. She told me about her big, loud family, her habit of doodling on napkins, and the anxiety she hid behind her bubbly nature.
We were opposites. But we fit.
Then came *Zayn*, Ariyah's cousin. He transferred into our university mid-semester. I didn't notice him at first. But he noticed me. He told me later that it wasn't my looks — though he admitted those didn't hurt — it was the way I carried myself. Like I was ready to fight the world and walk away if needed.
Our first real conversation happened during a group hangout Ariyah dragged me to. I didn't want to go, but she said, "Just once. No escape plans."
He sat across from me. Quiet, observing. I caught him watching me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. I hated it. But I also couldn't look away.
"Why don't you talk much?" he asked, later that night when we ended up outside by the parking lot.
"Because people talk too much."
He laughed. "Fair enough. But sometimes silence hides the best stories."
That stuck with me.