The next day—
I didn't sit next to her.
I came in early.
Like before.
But this time—
I chose a different seat.
Far.
Not too obvious.
But far enough.
It felt wrong.
But it also felt necessary.
Because after yesterday—
There was no pretending anymore.
No "maybe it'll be fine."
I made my choice.
And now—
I had to stick to it.
The classroom slowly filled.
Noise.
Voices.
Movement.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
Until—
She walked in.
Her eyes scanned the room.
And immediately—
Found me.
Of course she did.
She always did.
For a moment—
She didn't move.
Then—
She walked toward her usual seat.
Stopped.
Looked at it.
Empty.
Then—
She turned.
And walked toward me.
My chest tightened.
Not now.
Not here.
Not like this.
She stopped beside my desk.
"…What are you doing?"
Her voice wasn't calm this time.
Still controlled.
But sharper.
"I'm sitting here," I said.
"You weren't yesterday."
"I am today."
A pause.
The tension—
Immediate.
Heavy.
"Move back," she said.
I shook my head slightly.
"…No."
That one word—
It changed everything.
The room got quieter.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
"Why?" she asked.
Because I was told to.
Because it's safer.
Because I don't belong in your world.
Because if I stay—
You'll get hurt.
But I didn't say any of that.
"…It's better this way," I said.
Her expression tightened.
"For who?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
Because we both knew.
"For you?" she continued.
"Or for me?"
Still—
I stayed quiet.
Because saying it out loud—
Would make it real.
And I wasn't ready for that.
"…Look at me."
Her voice dropped.
Softer.
But stronger.
I didn't want to.
But I did.
And when I met her eyes—
There it was.
Not calm.
Not distant.
Emotion.
Real.
"You don't get to decide this on your own," she said.
"I'm not deciding anything," I replied.
"You are," she said.
"You're pushing me away."
Silence.
"…I'm trying to protect you."
The words came out before I could stop them.
And the moment they did—
I knew it was over.
Because now—
She knew.
"…From what?" she asked.
I hesitated.
Then—
"…From my world."
That wasn't the full truth.
But it was enough.
Her gaze didn't move.
"…Or from yours?" she asked quietly.
That hit.
Because this time—
She was right.
A long silence followed.
Then—
She stepped closer.
Closer than before.
Close enough that I could feel it.
"You think I don't understand what's happening?" she said.
"I know exactly what my family is capable of."
My chest tightened.
"Then you should stay away," I said.
"No."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just—
No.
The word echoed louder than anything else.
"You don't get to push me away because you're scared," she continued.
"I'm not scared for me."
"I know," she said.
Another step closer.
"And that's the problem."
I didn't move.
Couldn't.
Because for the first time—
This wasn't one-sided.
This wasn't just me trying to survive.
This was both of us—
Standing in something we couldn't control.
"I chose to sit next to you," she said softly.
"I chose to talk to you."
"I chose this."
Each word—
Clear.
Certain.
"And I'm not walking away from it."
The room was completely silent now.
Everyone watching.
No one speaking.
But none of that mattered.
Because in that moment—
It was just us.
"…You don't know what you're choosing," I said quietly.
Her expression softened slightly.
"…Then stay," she replied.
A pause.
"Stay and show me."
My breath caught.
Because that—
That wasn't just stubbornness.
That was trust.
And I didn't know if I deserved it.
Or if I could protect it.
The bell rang.
Breaking the moment.
But not the feeling.
She looked at me one last time.
Then—
Without another word—
She pulled a chair.
And sat beside me.
Not where she was supposed to.
Not where it was safe.
But next to me.
Again.
And this time—
I didn't tell her to move.
Because deep down—
I already knew.
This wasn't something I could stop anymore.