Stephen had been avoiding Nadia for three days.
Not completely.
Just enough to be annoying.
Enough to leave class before she could catch him. Enough to pretend he was suddenly very interested in conversations with other people whenever she walked by.
By Thursday, Nadia was tired of it.
The rain began just as the lecture ended, heavy drops drumming against the roof like a slow, steady heartbeat.
Stephen paused outside the hall, waiting beneath the small overhang, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was alone—Tiana and Dare had rushed off, umbrellas in hand—but he lingered, watching the way the rain blurred the world.
Then, she appeared.
Nadia stepped out from the side door, hood up, arms folded tightly against herself. For a second she just stood there beside him, staring out at the rain.
Then she looked at him.
"You waiting for the rain to stop?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Stephen replied. "No umbrella either."
She nodded once, then folded her arms tighter.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Nadia turned to him properly.
"Are you always this dramatic," she asked, "or are you only avoiding me on purpose?"
Stephen looked at her. "I'm not avoiding you."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You literally saw me after class yesterday and turned around."
"I forgot something."
"You forgot your entire personality?"
He tried not to laugh.
Failed.
Nadia smiled immediately, like she had won something.
"There," she said softly. "That one. I've been trying to get that smile again since the party."
Stephen looked away.
That night had been a problem.
Because before that night, Nadia had just been a beautiful girl in the background.
After that night—
he noticed everything.
The way she rolled her eyes when she was embarrassed.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
The way she looked at him like she was waiting for him to say something important.
And that was exactly why he had been keeping his distance.
Because every time he looked at her, he remembered what Joshua had said.
What he had overheard.
The things he still didn't understand.
He didn't want to assume.
Didn't want to judge her for something he didn't know the full truth about.
But now every glance, every smile, every moment with her felt like a question he didn't know how to ask.
The rain grew louder.
Nadia looked down at her shoes.
"You know," she said after a while, her voice quieter now, "if you don't like me, you can just say that."
Stephen turned to her immediately.
"It's not that."
"Then what is it?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Because he didn't know how to explain that he was trying not to want something he didn't fully trust yet.
That he was careful because he had seen what happened when people rushed into the wrong person.
That somehow, despite everything, Nadia still made him curious.
Still made him look.
Still made him stay.
"It's nothing," he said finally.
Nadia stared at him for a second, like she knew he was lying.
But she didn't push.
Instead, she stepped a little closer beneath the shelter, their shoulders almost touching as the rain poured around them.
And for now—
that was enough.