“He looked at me.”
“Just once. In the corridor. Black hoodie, earphones.”
Zenobia
“Zayyan?”
“He’s cute. But looks like the quiet type.”
Zaria
“Still. Something about that glance.”
She said it like a joke.
But she kept thinking about it even when the hostel lights went off.
Zenobia
“Forget him. You’ve seen Aarif?”
“Final year. The one girls trip over.”
Zaria
“Oh. The senior who walks like he owns the department?”
Zaria
“Yeah. I noticed him.”
Zenobia
“Everyone does.”
Zenobia
“He’s trouble. Smart, intense, off-limits.”
Zaria
"Off-limits?”
Zenobia
“The best ones always are.”
The next day, Zaria found herself walking past his classroom again.
Not by accident. Not really.
She didn’t look at Zayyan.
Not anymore.
Zaria
(It wasn’t love.
But it was starting to feel like gravity.)
From the author: This story is deeply personal — a blend of what I’ve lived, what I’ve healed from, and what I still hope for.
Some parts will feel like fiction. Others might feel like a memory — because they are.
If you’ve ever stayed too long, felt too much, or loved too deeply… this is for you.
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Sukemis Kemis
This story keeps getting better and better. Don't stop!
2025-07-31
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