Chapter: Even If I Have to Break Through
Ahad's POV
They say silence is golden.
Liars.
Silence is the crack before an earthquake.
It stretches wide between two people — quiet, yes — but capable of swallowing everything.
It's been 9 days.
And she's not said a single word to me.
She talks to Suhail.
She laughs with Sarah.
She argues with Shanzay.
She even gave a smile to the new boy from Section B.
But to me?
Nothing.
And I'm done.
I'm done pretending this doesn't bother me.
I'm done reading glances and decoding half-lowered eyelids like they're Morse code.
So I wait.
We're in the corridor outside the lab block.
The bell rings for break — and I spot her.
Sitting on the ledge near the third pillar.
Knees together,Turning the pages of novel what looked like 'Emma by Jane Austen'
My heart knocks twice.
Then I walk.
With every step I take, something in me quiets.
Because when you're sure, there's no room for nerves.
"Iman."
She looks up — slow — like she expected this and still didn't.
Her eyes sharpen. Her spine straightens.
She doesn't smile.
"What?"
One word. Flat. But it's not casual.
It's guarded.
"Why are you not talking to me?" I ask, standing just far enough to not make it a scene, just close enough to make it unavoidable.
She looks away. Then back. "Why do you care?"
Ouch.
Sharp.
But not sharp enough to cut me off.
"I've always cared," I say. Calm. "You know that."
"Funny," she scoffs. "Because the Ahad I knew used to talk. Not just stare like a… storm waiting to ruin a picnic."
I blink. "A picnic?"
"I said what I said," she mutters.
"Why are you ignoring me?" I ask again, softer this time.
Her jaw tightens.
She looks at the floor. Then the wall. Then finally back at me.
"You're not the same, Ahad."
My breath catches. "What?"
"You act like you don't care, but then you look at me like the world's ending. You talk to everyone, but when I talk to someone else, you act like I betrayed you. You— You just— You used to be… normal."
I smile, but there's no joke in it.
"Maybe I'm not normal anymore."
She blinks at me.
"I saw what Hafiz did. I didn't like it. I said something. I'd say it again."
She crosses her arms. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
She pauses. Then finally lets it out:
"You confuse me."
And there it is.
Raw. Real.
I step closer.
She doesn't move back.
"You confuse me too," I admit.
She raises a brow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Like why I still remember your laugh from 9th grade. Like why you're the only person whose silence sounds louder than a classroom full of idiots. Like why these last 9 days felt longer than 9 years abroad."
She looks like she wants to cry.
Or punch me.
Or both.
But she doesn't walk away.
So I take that as a win.
"Talk to me," I say again, gentler now.
"I'm scared."
"Of me?"
"No. Of… this."
She doesn't say more.
And I don't push.
But I sit down beside her.
Just close enough to let her know I'm here.
Just far enough to let her stay in control.
We sit there in that grey silence — the one she grew into and I was missing all along.
But this time, I don't leave.