I huffed, tightening my coat around me. The winter air nipped at my skin, reminding me of how cold I was—because someone had thought riding a bike in this weather was a brilliant idea.

Before I could complain, the front door swung open, and Aunt Sidra greeted me with a warm smile.

"Assalam Alaikum," I greeted, stepping inside, grateful for the wave of warmth that instantly wrapped around me.

"Walaikum Assalam, beta." She beamed, her gaze soft as she took me in. "How's university treating you?"

Zavian shut the door behind us, his presence a silent weight at my back.

I exhaled, finally relaxing into the cozy atmosphere. "Hectic. Draining. But manageable."

She chuckled, leading me toward the lounge. "That's how it always starts. But you'll find your rhythm soon."

I nodded, settling onto the plush couch as she took the seat beside me. The room was elegantly furnished—warm tones, soft lighting, and an unmistakable sense of home.

Zavian, however, leaned against the armrest of a chair across from us, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable gaze.

"I hope he wasn't too much trouble getting here?" Aunt Sidra asked, eyes twinkling as she glanced at her son.

I opened my mouth, ready to expose his reckless driving, but Zavian beat me to it.

"She loved it," he said smoothly, smirking. "Didn't you, Mashal-e-Mehtaab?"

I shot him a look, but Aunt Sidra only laughed, shaking her head.

"Typical," she mused. "Always looking for trouble."

I bit back a smile. That, I definitely believed.

_

At dinner, Uncle Noraiz joined us, his warm presence adding another layer of comfort to the already inviting atmosphere. The chatter around the table flowed easily, as if we had all known each other for years—something I appreciated after the whirlwind of my first week at university.

Aunt Sidra passed around plates filled with steaming food, the aroma filling the room and tempting my senses. My stomach rumbled softly, reminding me just how hungry I was. Zavian, however, seemed utterly unfazed by the conversation, his gaze flickering from his plate to me occasionally, his lips curling in that maddening half-smile.

"So, Iman, how is university?" Uncle Noraiz asked, his deep voice warm as he leaned back in his chair.

"It's... good," I replied, pushing my food around on the plate, suddenly aware of how quiet I had become. "It's a lot to take in, but I'm adjusting. Slowly."

Uncle Noraiz nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his drink. "That's the key—pace yourself. No need to rush through everything. University will teach you more than just what's in books." He smiled knowingly, and I couldn't help but think there was more to that statement than he let on.

"I'm sure Zavian here will be more than happy to keep an eye on you, right?" Aunt Sidra added, her voice teasing.

Zavian's eyes flickered to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something unreadable pass behind them. "Of course," he said smoothly. "She'll be in good hands."

I nodded quickly, my appetite now distracted by the weight of his words. His tone had been too casual, too controlled.

"I'll be sure to keep out of trouble," I said, trying to brush off the tension in the air. I picked up my fork, focusing on the food in front of me, but I could feel his gaze never fully leaving me.

The conversation flowed around us, shifting to lighter topics. Aunt Sidra spoke about the upcoming family gathering, and Uncle Noraiz shared some old stories about their younger days.

The conversation continued to flow around us, light-hearted and easy, as Aunt Sidra enthusiastically spoke about the upcoming family gathering next month. Uncle Noraiz chimed in with laughter, sharing some fond, nostalgic stories about their younger days—those carefree years when everything seemed simpler.

As I finished my meal, I felt the pleasant weight of a full stomach but also a sense of unease creeping in. I glanced at the clock, realizing it was getting late. I had a long ride ahead of me, and I didn't want to keep my mind stuck in this strange bubble that seemed to form every time I was near Zavian.

"I should be heading out," I said, standing up from the table. "It's getting late."

Zavian's gaze immediately sharpened on me, his expression shifting to something more guarded. "You're not going alone," he said firmly, pushing his chair back with a slight scrape. The words were so casual, yet his tone made it clear there was no room for argument.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm perfectly fine taking the metro, Zavian. It's not that far from here."

But Zavian wasn't having it. "Not happening. I'm dropping you off at the metro. It's far from here," he replied, his voice leaving no room for discussion.

I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—was it concern? "I'll be fine," I repeated, though I wasn't sure if I was convincing him or myself.

Aunt Sidra, noticing the tension in the air, smiled warmly. "You're welcome to stay for a little longer, Iman. You know you're always welcome here," she said sweetly.

I smiled back, grateful for her hospitality. "Thank you, Aunt Sidra, but I really should get going. I appreciate it, though."

As I grabbed my coat, ready to leave, Aunt Sidra's voice stopped me for a moment. "Oh, and Iman, please do visit again next Saturday for dinner, okay? It would be lovely to have you around."

I paused, giving her a small smile. "I'd love to, Aunt Sidra, but I'm actually going to be in Amsterdam for the next month for some research work and conferences at the University of Amsterdam," I explained.

She seemed a little surprised but smiled nonetheless. "Amsterdam? How exciting! Well, we'll miss you, but I hope it all goes well. We'll catch up when you get back."

"Definitely," I said, feeling a slight pang of guilt. I had hoped I could see them more often, but my schedule was filling up quickly with all the research and academic events ahead.

I made my way to the door, trying to keep the conversation light. Zavian, who had remained quiet, was standing just behind me, his presence a constant reminder that this wasn't an ordinary goodbye.

"Take care of yourself," Aunt Sidra said as she gave me a warm hug. "We'll see you soon."

I nodded, my gaze flicking to Zavian, who hadn't moved an inch. "Thanks, Aunt Sidra. I'll be sure to visit once I'm back."

With one last smile, I walked out of the house, feeling a rush of cold air against my skin as I stepped onto the street. Zavian was right behind me, his hand brushing my elbow as he urged me to hurry up.

"Let's get going, Mashal-e-Mehtaab," he muttered, not looking back as we walked towards his car.

I shot a glance at him, feeling the familiar weight of his gaze on my back as he matched my pace. "Zavian, really, I can handle it," I murmured, but I already knew the answer.

He didn't reply. He just kept walking, his expression unreadable, though the quiet tension in his posture spoke volumes.

We reached his car in silence. The dim streetlights cast a faint glow over the pavement, making the cold air feel even sharper. I didn't want to argue anymore. It wasn't worth it. Besides, he had already made up his mind.

I opened the passenger door, sliding inside without a word. Zavian followed me in a moment later, the engine humming to life as he turned the key. I stared out of the window, watching the familiar city lights blur as we drove through the streets, each one feeling colder than the last. The quiet between us was thick, but oddly, not uncomfortable. It was a strange sort of peace, despite the undercurrent of tension.

As we merged onto a main road, the silence stretched on. I finally couldn't take it anymore and turned toward him, my voice breaking the quiet. "You know, you don't have to do this. I'm not helpless."

He glanced at me for a split second, his jaw tightening before he returned his attention to the road. "I'm not doing it because you're helpless." His tone was soft but firm, as though he meant it. "I just don't want to take any chances."

I furrowed my brows. "Chances? What's that supposed to mean?"

He shifted in his seat, his eyes flickering to mine for a brief moment. "The city isn't the safest place at night. And you... I don't want anything happening to you."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. His words caught me off guard. Was he worried? For me? The thought swirled in my head as we continued to drive, my heart suddenly racing faster than it should have been. The tension had shifted, but I wasn't sure if it was because of his words or just the weight of his presence beside me.

We drove in silence again, but this time it felt different—lighter, somehow. Zavian's words had struck a chord, even if I didn't want to admit it.

After a few more minutes, we finally reached the metro station. I felt a reluctant wave of relief wash over me, even though I was still trying to figure out what exactly had just happened between us.

Zavian parked the car and turned to face me. His eyes softened, the hardness from earlier replaced by something unreadable. "You sure you'll be okay?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'll be fine. It's just a metro ride," I replied, trying to convince myself more than him.

He didn't move immediately, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Text me when you get back. I'll know you're safe."

I stared at him, surprised by the genuine concern in his eyes. "Fine," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gave me a small nod before shifting back in his seat. "Take care of yourself, Mashal-e-Mehtaab."

And with that, I stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting me once again as I made my way to the entrance of the metro. I glanced back over my shoulder, finding Zavian still watching me from the car. The silence was gone, replaced by something else—something I wasn't sure how to define.

I swallowed hard, trying to push away the thought that lingered at the back of my mind: Was he becoming someone I could actually trust?

_

I took the metro back, the hum of the train barely registering as I replayed the evening in my mind. When I finally reached my stop, I stepped off the train and walked briskly to the hostel, the cold air making my breath visible. As soon as I reached my room, I closed the door behind me, exhaling a sigh of relief.

I quickly grabbed my phone and typed a short message to Zavian: Home. It was simple, but I didn't have the energy for anything else. I set my phone down on the nightstand and started to unwind, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

I didn't expect a reply. But I couldn't shake the strange feeling his words had left me with.

_

I took a quick shower, letting the warm water wash away the chill and tension of the day. Afterward, I wrapped myself in a towel and hurriedly got dressed in my comfy pajamas. Slipping under the covers, I grabbed my phone and began replying to the flood of messages from back home.

I updated the family group chat, sharing bits about my day and the dinner. I responded to a few questions from Baba and Mama, reassuring them everything was fine and that I was settling in well at university. There were a few messages from Yuki too, asking about my plans for the weekend.

I let out a deep breath, sinking further into the warmth of the blankets as my fingers paused over the screen. I had barely noticed how tired I felt until now, the day catching up with me all at once.

Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a message popped up from Zavian.

Zavian: Good night, Mashal-e-Mehtaab.

I frowned at the screen, the nickname still lingering uncomfortably in my mind. But I forced a smile and replied, Good night.

_