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Only Mine

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Inside the Glass Box

Chapter 3:

By the next morning, Rayyan had made a decision.

> Ignore him.

Zayan wanted attention? He wouldn’t get it.

This wasn’t some twisted romance. It wasn’t flattering. It was weird. Obsessive. Creepy.

No matter how good he smelled up close.

No matter how calm his voice made Rayyan’s head feel.

No. He needed to draw the line.

Rayyan spent the day glued to his routine. Class. Lunch. Library — not the back table. He sat up front now, near other students, in full view.

But even there, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

The air felt… watched.

---

That night, Rayyan tossed his hoodie onto the back of his desk chair and dropped into bed. His phone buzzed — two texts from a girl in his class, one meme from his best friend, and one unknown number:

> Unknown

You always leave your window unlocked.

Rayyan sat up so fast the blanket slipped off his chest.

He looked toward the window.

Closed.

But… had he locked it?

His heart pounded as he walked to it, fingers trembling as he slid the latch into place. He scanned the street below. Nothing. Nobody. Just dark pavement and the occasional flash of passing headlights.

> It’s a joke, he told himself. Probably one of your friends messing around. Probably.

He texted back:

> You are seriously messed up. Who is this?

No reply.

---

The next morning, Rayyan woke up already tense. His apartment felt colder. The air still. Heavy. Like someone had been inside.

He stood, heart thudding, and looked around his room.

Nothing missing.

Nothing broken.

Nothing obviously wrong…

Except—

His hoodie.

It was folded. Neatly. Perfectly.

Rayyan never folded his clothes. Ever.

He reached for it, heart racing. A note slipped out from the folds and landed softly on the floor.

One line.

Written in tiny, precise handwriting:

> Even glass walls can't protect you when I already know what’s inside.

Rayyan’s blood went cold.

He looked around again, half-expecting someone to step out of the shadows. But he was alone.

Totally alone.

And somehow… not.

---

That evening, when he left class early, Zayan was waiting.

Leaning against a tree. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Like nothing was wrong.

Rayyan walked straight up to him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped.

Zayan looked up. Calm. Expressionless.

“I told you. I care.”

“This isn’t caring,” Rayyan hissed. “It’s obsession. It’s messed up. Are you in my apartment now? Is that you texting me?”

Zayan’s eyes flickered — just slightly.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

Rayyan stepped back. “You’re insane.”

Zayan didn’t move. “Maybe. But you still came to me.”

Rayyan froze.

Because he had. On instinct. After everything — he sought Zayan out.

Why?

Why did part of him feel safer here — with the person he should fear the most?

Rayyan’s pulse hadn’t calmed since that morning. His mind kept replaying it — the note, the folded hoodie, the text. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined someone standing over him while he slept.

Watching. Breathing. Touching things they had no right to.

He didn’t go home that night.

He couldn’t.

Instead, he walked aimlessly around campus until the sun dipped low, and the lamps flickered on, casting long shadows across the walkways.

He ended up on the old bridge behind the science building — the one no one used. It was quiet here. No eyes. No whispers. Just the faint rustle of leaves and his own ragged breathing.

Until—

Footsteps.

He didn’t even have to turn around.

“I’m not in the mood,” Rayyan said sharply.

Zayan’s voice came soft from behind. “You looked like you needed someone.”

Rayyan spun around, eyes burning. “Do you even hear yourself? I need space. I need privacy. Not someone stalking me through text and breaking into my room!”

“I didn’t break in.”

Rayyan blinked. “So you admit it?”

Zayan stepped closer, calm and steady. “Your window was open. That’s not breaking. That’s entering.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Rayyan shoved past him, but Zayan’s voice followed like a tether.

“I folded your hoodie because I thought you'd want someone to take care of you for once.”

Rayyan stopped.

Zayan continued, quieter now. “I see you. Behind the smiles. Behind all the friends and noise. No one notices when you’re tired. Or when your hands shake after arguments. Or when you skip meals.”

His voice broke slightly. “But I do.”

Rayyan didn’t turn. Couldn’t. His throat tightened.

“How do you know those things?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I watch,” Zayan replied. “And I remember.”

Rayyan closed his eyes, chest rising with unspoken words.

This should have scared him more.

It should have made him run.

But instead… he felt something worse.

Seen.

And part of him — the broken, tired, invisible part — wanted to be seen. Even if it came in the shape of obsession.

“I don’t know what this is,” Rayyan murmured. “But you can’t keep doing it.”

Zayan took one final step forward. “Tell me to stop. And mean it.”