Sam's POV
The rain had stopped just before dismissal, leaving behind the smell of wet soil and the soft rustle of wind through the courtyard trees. I stood under the old banyan tree near the back gate, clutching my bag like it was the only thing holding me together.
Students rushed past me — laughing, teasing, planning where to hang out after class. They all looked so free. So… normal.
And then there was me — the "new girl," the one everyone whispered about when they thought I couldn't hear.Even though Liam had defended me that day, even though Zoe had glared at anyone who so much as mentioned the rumor, it still didn't stop the stares. The half-smiles. The feeling that I didn't belong.
I took a slow breath. Ignore it, Sam. You've been through worse.
"Hey."
That voice. Low. Steady. Too close.
I turned sharply, and there he was — Liam. Hands shoved in his pockets, blazer half off, hair a little messy from the rain.
"You walk home alone every day?" he asked. His tone was casual, but his eyes… they were sharp. Watching.
I frowned. "You following me or something?"
He smirked, that lazy, confident smirk that made me want to both punch him and… maybe smile a little. "You wish."
I rolled my eyes. "What do you want, Liam?"
"To talk," he said simply.
"About what?"
"You."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He stepped closer, standing under the same patch of shade I was. "You've been quiet. Zoe said you've been skipping lunch."
"Zoe talks too much," I muttered, looking away.
"Yeah, but she's worried. And…" He paused, his voice softening. "So am I."
That caught me off guard. "You? Worried? About me?"
"Why does that sound impossible?"
"Because it is. You barely know me."
He tilted his head slightly. "Then tell me something I should know."
I stared at him. He was serious.It was both annoying and… oddly comforting.
"You don't give up easily, do you?" I said.
"Not when someone's putting up walls."
His words hit harder than I expected. I looked down at the puddle forming near my shoes, watching my faint reflection ripple.
"It's just…" I swallowed. "People don't forget things easily, Liam. Especially when it's about someone like me."
He frowned. "Someone like you?"
"The quiet one. The outsider. The one who never quite fits in." My voice came out smaller than I meant. "Rumors stick faster when no one really knows who you are."
He leaned back against the tree beside me. "You think you're the only one who knows how that feels?"
I looked at him, surprised. "You?"
He gave a soft, humorless laugh. "People think they know me. But they only see what they want to."
Something flickered behind his eyes — something darker, heavier. I wanted to ask, but I didn't. Not now.
So I just said, "It's still hard."
"I know."
There was something steady in the way he said it, like he really did know. Like he'd been there.
"You're stronger than you think, Sam," he added after a pause.
I gave him a sideways glance. "Says the guy who barely talks in class."
"That's different."
"Sure," I murmured, but I was smiling before I could stop myself.
The silence between us wasn't heavy anymore. It was quiet, calm… comfortable.
After a while, I spoke again. "You know, I used to write when things got like this."
"Write?" he asked.
"Poems."
His brows lifted slightly. "That's… unexpected."
I shrugged. "It doesn't change anything, though. Just words on paper."
"Sometimes words are the only things that do change something."
I looked at him, surprised by how genuine his voice sounded. "You actually mean that."
"I do."
"You surprise me sometimes," I said softly.
He smiled — not his usual teasing one, but a real, small smile that reached his eyes. "You say that a lot."
"That's because it keeps happening."
The rain started again, light and drizzling. I took a step back, but he didn't move.
"You don't have to keep fighting alone," he said quietly.
My chest tightened. "What if I don't want anyone's help?"
"Then I'll keep showing up until you do."
I froze. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I like annoying you."
"Liar."
"Maybe."
His grin widened a little, and I hated how it made my heart race.
"You're impossible," I muttered.
"And you're terrible at hiding how you feel."
"I am not."
He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. "Then why are you blushing?"
"I— I'm cold."
"Right."
"Ugh, you're impossible."
"Already said that."
Despite myself, I laughed — a real one this time. The sound felt strange, but good.
The drizzle slowed, sunlight filtering weakly through the clouds. I looked at him — really looked — and realized I wasn't scared anymore.
Not of the whispers.Not of being judged.Not even of him.
Liam's POV
She doesn't even realize how much she gets to me.
Every time she looks away when she's flustered, every time she bites back her words to keep from saying too much — it's like watching someone try to hold fire in their hands.
She hides behind quiet. I used to do the same.Maybe that's why I can't stay away.
Because when she looks at me, I see the parts of myself I've been trying to forget.The parts that still want to be understood.
She thinks I'm helping her, but maybe she's the one helping me.
Either way…I'm not walking away.
Not from her.Not now.Not ever.
Even if she keeps building walls —I'll keep finding ways to climb them.