Before I could fully relax, Zavian gripped the arms of my chair and turned it sharply, forcing me to face him. My breath hitched. He leaned down, his face mere inches from mine.

But there were no butterflies this time.

Only fear.

His gaze was unreadable—dark, cold, as if the man I knew had been stripped away, leaving only this stranger behind. His expression was a mask, empty, terrifyingly blank.

"So you did go into my study?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something dangerous.

I swallowed, my eyes darting between his, searching for something—anything—familiar. But I found nothing.

My tongue darted out to wet my dry lips as I gave a small nod.

"Words, Mashal-e-Mehtaab." His voice was ice. "Use your tongue."

A shiver crawled down my spine. My throat felt tight, like something had lodged itself there, but I forced myself to speak. "I... I did."

For a moment, he just stared. Unmoving. Unblinking. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally, he straightened, looking down at me with an expression that made my stomach twist painfully.

"You will never again go in there. Do you understand?"

His tone was so cold, so final, that I felt my knees go weak.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

Instead, I lifted my chin, gathering whatever courage I had left, and whispered, "What are you hiding?"

I barely had time to react before his fist slammed onto the desk beside me, the sharp crack echoing through the room like a gunshot. I flinched violently, my body instinctively recoiling from the sudden burst of fury in his eyes.

"You do not get to question me, princess," he growled.

I could feel my heart pounding, each beat rattling in my ribcage like a trapped bird. His voice—so harsh, so unrecognizable—made my breath come out uneven, made my hands tremble in my lap.

"Random people are not allowed in my private space."

Random.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"I'm not random," I whispered, my voice so small, so fragile, I barely recognized it myself.

A slow, cruel smirk tugged at his lips, but there was no warmth in it. Only something sharp.

"Oh?" he drawled, stepping closer.

I instinctively took a step back.

And he froze.

For the first time that night, something flickered in his eyes. Something I couldn't name. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same cold indifference.

His voice was softer this time, but no less devastating.

"You're the most random person I know, Mashal-e-Mehtaab."

A blade disguised as words.

A wound that wouldn't bleed, but would fester.

"Stay in your limits."

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there—shaken, hollow, and more alone than I had ever felt in my life.

My legs gave way beneath me, and I sank to the floor, my entire body trembling. A choked gasp escaped my lips as I pressed a shaking hand against my mouth, trying to quiet the sob threatening to break free.

What just happened?

The question echoed in my mind, but there was no answer—only the crushing weight of what I had just witnessed. Of what I had just felt.

Zavian.

This wasn't my Zavian.

My Zavian would have never looked at me like that. Never spoken to me like I was nothing. Like I was just... random.

A deep ache curled in my chest, sharp and suffocating, as the first tear slipped down my cheek. Then another. And another. Until I realized they had been falling for a while now, unnoticed, just like everything else tonight.

I curled into myself, wrapping my arms around my knees, my breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. The room felt too big. Too cold. Too unfamiliar.

Zavian had always been my safe place. The one person who held me close when the world felt unkind. But tonight...

Tonight, he had made me feel small.

He had made me feel like I didn't belong.

And the worst part?

I had no idea if I ever would again.

The silence of the room pressed in on me, heavy and suffocating. The soft hum of the heater, the distant ticking of the clock—it all felt distant, like white noise in the background of my breaking heart.

I wiped at my tears, but they wouldn't stop. They kept falling, soaking into my sleeves, tracing cold lines down my cheeks. I wanted to stop crying. Needed to. But how could I, when everything inside me felt like it was unraveling?

Zavian had never spoken to me like that before.

His words still echoed in my mind, each syllable like a fresh wound. You're the most random person I know. Stay in your limits.

I had known something was wrong. He had been distant. Cold. But this... this was something else entirely. This was Zavian looking at me like I was a stranger. Like I was a problem that needed to be dealt with.

A shaky breath left me as I clenched my hands into fists. I needed to understand. Needed to know what had changed. What had made him change.

But how could I ask when he had just shut me out so completely?

I stared at the floor, my vision blurred with fresh tears. The warmth of the room felt mocking against the ice spreading inside my chest.

I had spent so many nights waiting for him. Loving him. Defending his absences, his exhaustion, his secrecy—telling myself that whatever it was, it wasn't bigger than us.

But tonight...

Tonight, he had made it clear.

I wasn't a part of whatever he was hiding.

And for the first time since I had met Zavian, I wasn't sure if I ever would be.

_

My eyes fluttered open, the world around me a blur of soft morning light. A dull ache pulsed behind my lids, and as I shifted, a sharp stiffness settled deep in my limbs. Why am I on the floor?

Then it hit me.

Last night. Zavian. His words. His coldness.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to cry again. My fingers trembled as I reached up, pulling my scarf tighter around me as if it could shield me from the weight pressing on my chest.

Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room—a cruel contrast to the icy emptiness I felt inside. My gaze flickered to the clock on the nightstand. It was early. Too early.

I exhaled and pushed myself up, only for my legs to protest, stiff and unyielding from spending the night on the hard floor. A sharp gasp escaped me as pain shot up my spine, forcing me to pause. My fingers dug into the carpet for balance as I forced my body to move.

I shouldn't have slept here.

But what was worse? The cold floor beneath me or the cold distance in Zavian's eyes last night?

The answer was obvious. And it hurt more than anything.

I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat as I pushed myself toward the bathroom. My body felt heavy, every step dragging like I was wading through thick fog.

The moment I stepped under the shower, hot water cascaded down my skin, washing away the stiffness, the cold, the remnants of the night before. But it couldn't wash away the hollow ache in my chest. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool tiles, inhaling deeply, as if the steam could somehow fill the empty spaces inside me.

After what felt like forever, I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel tightly around myself. I moved mechanically—drying off, changing into fresh clothes, combing through my damp hair. But when I finally lifted my gaze to the mirror, a chill ran through me.

The girl staring back at me wasn't me.

Her eyes were dull, her skin paler than usual. Shadows lingered beneath her lashes, evidence of the restless night. There was something unfamiliar in the way her lips pressed together—tightly, as if holding back words she'd never say.

I blinked rapidly, willing away the sting of tears. No. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and grabbed my bag. I needed to leave. I needed distractions. A full day of lectures, assignments, and endless work. That was better.

Anything was better than staying here.

_

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before stepping out of our room. My fingers gripped the strap of my bag a little too tightly, as if anchoring myself.

As I descended the stairs, the air felt heavier, thicker—like a storm lingering just out of reach. My gaze flickered toward the living room, and there he was. Zavian.

He was sprawled across the sofa, his head tilted back against the cushions, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped absently against the armrest, that made my stomach twist.

Then, as if sensing me, his gaze shifted. Our eyes met.

For a fleeting second, something flickered in his dark eyes—something I couldn't place. But I didn't let myself linger. I tore my gaze away, expression carefully neutral, and kept walking.

No words were exchanged. No questions. No explanations.

Reaching the door, I pulled it open, the crisp morning air rushing to greet me. Without a backward glance, I stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind me.

The cold air stung my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to ground me. Anything to keep me from looking back.

I walked down the steps, each one feeling heavier than the last. My heart pounded in my chest, but my face remained composed. Unreadable. Just like his.

I reached the street and exhaled, forcing my shoulders to relax. The city hummed around me—cars passing, distant chatter, the rustling of leaves in the morning breeze. Life moved on, indifferent to the storm raging inside me.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I started toward the bus stop. I could have waited for Zavian to offer me a ride. He always did. But today, I couldn't sit in that car, surrounded by silence thick enough to suffocate me.

No. I needed space. Distance.

As I stood waiting, my mind kept replaying last night—his cold stare, his cutting words. You're the most random person I know, Mashal-e-Mehtaab.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. Was it possible to be a stranger to the person you loved most? To the person who once loved you just as fiercely?

The bus arrived with a screech, breaking me out of my thoughts. I climbed on, choosing a seat by the window, and rested my head against the cool glass.

Maybe today would be different. Maybe I could drown myself in university work and pretend everything was fine. Pretend Zavian was still mine.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

Something was slipping away. And I was terrified it was him.

_