"She's close to breaking," Sneha whispered, watching as Shumaila furiously stabbed at her food.
"She hasn't yelled at Hamza in days," Rudra mused. "That's not normal."
"Which means," Siddarth smirked, "it's time for the final push."
Aarav leaned back. "Let's see how she reacts when she thinks Hamza is actually moving on."
It happened at a group hangout.
Shumaila had been tricked into coming under the pretense of "relaxing after exams," but she wasn't relaxed at all.
Because sitting across from her, Hamza was laughing.
He looked unbothered, carefree—like he had completely moved on.
The worst part? It irritated the hell out of her.
Then Rudra, the devil himself, grinned and nudged Hamza. "You know, Hamza, maybe you should start dating. Find someone."
Hamza shrugged casually. "Maybe."
That was the last straw.
Shumaila's fork clattered onto her plate, and she snapped.
"Oh? So now you're over everything? Just like that?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the chatter around them.
Hamza raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who told me to stay away and that you will never forgive me."
"Yeah, so you thought dating someone would be okay since I don't care about your confession?!."
Silence.
Tension thickened between them, crackling like electricity.
Hamza tilted his head, studying her. "So now you care, Shumaila?"
She scoffed. "I don't."
"Then why are you acting like you do?"
She opened her mouth, ready to fire back another sarcastic retort, but nothing came out.
Because he was right.
"Oh, I get it," Hamza said, leaning forward slightly. "You just don't like the idea of me moving on, do you?"
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Then say it. Say you don't care. Say it like you mean it."
Her jaw clenched. Her heart was racing.
And then, before she could stop herself—
"Because I do, okay?!"
The words burst out of her like an explosion, shocking even herself.
A stunned silence followed.
The entire group froze, eyes darting between them. Even Hamza looked momentarily caught off guard.
Shumaila's breath hitched, realizing what she had just admitted.
Hamza's gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. He stood up.
"Say that again."
She shook her head quickly. "Forget it."
"No." He took a slow step toward her. "You just admitted something—so say it again."
She just got up, turned on her heel and walked away.
Shumaila stormed down the corridor, furious at herself.
Why did I say that?Why did I let him get to me?
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize Hamza had followed her—until he suddenly grabbed her wrist.
"Shumaila."
His voice was low, deep.
She stiffened. He had never said her name like that before.
"Let go."
"No."
She turned to glare at him, but before she could say anything else, he pulled her into an empty hallway, away from prying eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you face the truth."
She took a step back, but he followed, closing the distance between them.
And this time, in weeks, Hamza wasn't hesitant. He wasn't backing off.
He was standing his ground.
Shumaila's back hit the wall, and Hamza didn't stop.
He leaned in, his body inches from hers, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Say it again," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His breath fanned against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
Shumaila's heart pounded. "I… I won't."
Hamza smirked slightly, tilting his head. "Liar."
Her hands came up to push him away, but the moment she pressed against his chest, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them gently against the wall.
She gasped, eyes widening as he stepped even closer.
Their noses brushed. His scent surrounded her—fresh, warm, intoxicating.
"Say it," he whispered.
"No."
"Say it, Shumaila."
"Hamza—"
His grip on her wrists tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pulse skyrocket.
She clenched her jaw, fighting the heat crawling up her neck.
"Fine!" she snapped. "I care, okay?! I care, you idiot!"
She barely had time to process her words before Hamza suddenly pulled her into a tight hug.
Her breath caught. He was warm. Firm. Unyielding.
For the first time since everything happened, Hamza wasn't asking for permission. He wasn't waiting for her to accept his presence. He was just… holding her.
His grip tightened around her waist, and she felt herself melting against him, just a little.
"Finally," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to admit that?"
She didn't respond. She couldn't.
Because for the first time, she didn't want to push him away.