Her name was Imade.
She wasn't just a friend—she became home. The kind of person who asked how you were and actually waited for the answer. Who never made her feel like she had to be interesting to be worth loving. With Imade, there was no pressure to pretend. Just honesty, warmth, and the kind of friendship that healed things no one else even saw.
They walked home together almost every day, laughing about lecturers, classmates, random life things. Sometimes they said everything, sometimes they walked in comfortable silence. On weekends, Imade would stop by with snacks or drag her out to clear her mind. Over time, their bond grew strong—natural, unshakable.
And slowly, it worked. The ache that Zayn left behind faded—not completely, but enough that she could breathe without flinching at the memory. Enough that she believed it was all behind her. Just a phase. A mistake.
"I think I'm finally over it," she told Imade one afternoon, legs stretched across her bed as they listened to music.
Imade looked at her, skeptical but smiling. "You think?"
She laughed. "Okay, fine. I hope."
Truthfully, it felt good. Safe. Like the storm had passed and left her standing, steadier than before. She wasn't the same girl who had once doubted every glance, every word. She was growing. Learning. Laughing again.
But just when the past seemed like nothing more than a shadow…
It found a way back in.
A name mentioned in passing. A familiar voice in the hallway. A rumor. A glance she tried not to return. Her heart, traitorous as ever, skipped like it remembered things her mind had buried.
So she thought she was over it.
So she thought.
---
It happened on a Thursday.
She was on her way out of the library, arms full of books and heart full of calm. Things had finally started to feel… balanced. And then, just outside the entrance, someone called her name.
"Hey. You're [her name], right?"
She turned, confused.
A boy stood there, familiar eyes, same sharp cheekbones she'd seen once before in the background of Zayn's photos. There was a resemblance—undeniable.
"I'm Ray," he said. "Zayn's cousin."
Her heart thudded.
"Oh," she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. "Hi."
Ray scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look, this might be weird but… he still talks about you. A lot."
She blinked. "What?"
"He acts like he doesn't care, but he does. Trust me, I've known him forever. He's just… bad at expressing things that matter. He said you were different. That you saw him. Really saw him."
She didn't know what to say. Her throat tightened. Too little, too late, she wanted to say. But something in Ray's eyes made her pause.
"He said," Ray continued, "you're the only girl who made him feel like he was more than just the guy everyone talks about. Like he could be something else. Someone better."
She didn't reply.
Ray smiled softly. "He still cares. I know he does. Just thought you should hear it."
And then he walked away—leaving her with nothing but silence and a storm in her chest.
She stood there for a moment, torn between disbelief and the cruel hope she thought she'd buried. And that's when it happened.
She turned to leave—only to stop in her tracks.
Zayn.
Right there. Leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world, watching her. His expression unreadable. The air between them charged with everything they hadn't said.
"Hey," he said, voice low.
She swallowed. "Hi."
And for a second, the world felt like it was spinning all over again.
---"Hey," Zayn said again, more softly this time.
She gave him a small smile. The kind that tried to hide the war inside her.
"I heard you've been talking about me," she said, tilting her head playfully, though her heart was anything but calm.
He gave a small laugh. "That obvious, huh?"
She shrugged. "Your cousin did the talking for you."
Zayn's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. "I knew I should've made him sign an NDA."
That made her laugh, even though she didn't want to. It was always like this with him—words falling easy, moments blooming fast. And that scared her more than it comforted her.
"So what is it now?" she asked. "Another apology you won't say, or another secret you won't explain?"
Zayn shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping a little closer but still giving her space.
"I messed up," he said. "I know that. I should've told you about… everything. But I didn't know how to. You looked at me like I was worth something. I didn't want to ruin that."
She looked away, blinking fast. "You did ruin it. You didn't just lie by omission. You made me believe in something you never claimed."
Zayn nodded slowly. "I didn't claim it. But I felt it. Every second."
She smiled again—small, guarded. "I doubt you even know what you feel, Zayn. You like to chase light but you never stay in it."
He tilted his head, amused. "Wow. That was poetic. You been practicing that one?"
She laughed despite herself. "Don't make this a joke."
"I'm not," he said, stepping closer. "But if I can make you laugh, I'm halfway back in, aren't I?"
"Zayn…" she warned, but the softness in her voice gave her away.
He grinned, eyes holding hers with something dangerously sincere. "What if I'm not chasing the light this time? What if I'm just… walking toward it?"
Before she could reply, a voice cut through the air.
"Zayn?"
She turned—and her stomach flipped.
Her sister stood a few feet away, brows raised in curiosity… and familiarity.
Zayn's face lit up. "Hey! Long time."
"Didn't know you two knew each other," her sister said, walking over with a knowing smile.
"I didn't know you two did either," she muttered under her breath, heart hammering now for a different reason.
Zayn chuckled. "Yeah, your sister and I go way back. We used to hang out during that summer camp—she saved my life during the canoe disaster of 2019."
Her sister laughed. "You're so dramatic. You just fell into shallow water."
Her head was spinning. This wasn't just an awkward coincidence. This was something new. Another piece of him she hadn't known… and now wasn't sure she wanted to.
Zayn glanced at her again, tone softening. "It's a small world, huh?"
Too small, maybe.
And suddenly, she wasn't sure if she was angry, confused… or just scared that history might repeat itself.