I wake up early again, but the quiet feels different today. There's a tension in the air I can't shake, like the world is holding its breath, waiting to see what I'll do next. Khalid hasn't said much, but his presence has been heavier lately. Not the warmth of kindness, but the weight of expectation.
When I see him, even briefly, there's a sharpness in his gaze that makes my chest tighten. He isn't cruel—he doesn't need to be—but he's starting to own the space around me. The small things, like a hand lingering too long on a doorframe or a comment about my schedule, make it clear: he wants control, whether I give it willingly or not.
I try to focus on work, on the tasks I can manage. But my mind keeps drifting back to Fahad. His messages wait for me in the quiet moments, short, careful, like he's testing me without admitting anything. We haven't confessed, not really. But there's an unspoken connection that I feel in every word, every pause, every little question he asks.
A few of my friends notice I've been quieter lately. "Are you okay, Ria?" one asks. I smile and nod, but I don't tell them anything. I can't. Not yet. The engagement is looming, not final, but enough to feel like a shadow over everything I do. And Fahad… Fahad is already walking in that shadow with me.
Later, I meet him in a café—not a private place, just somewhere public enough that no one can judge. We sit across from each other, talking about minor things—work, a book he's reading, a film I've been wanting to see. Nothing important. Everything important.
At one point, he pauses mid-sentence and looks at me differently. Not the way Lex looks at him, or Khalid would if he knew, but quietly, searching. I almost say something—almost tell him the truth of my heart—but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I force a smile.
"I'm fine," I lie softly.
And he doesn't push. He never does. That's what makes it dangerous. We're so close, but there are lines we don't cross. Lines I know I could break if I let myself.
When we part ways, I walk to my car, my hands trembling slightly. The city hums around me, oblivious to the storm inside my chest. Khalid doesn't know, Lex doesn't know, and Fahad… Fahad only knows that I exist in a half-truth that's becoming impossible to maintain.
And me? I'm starting to realize that pretending is going to hurt more than anything else.