The courtyard buzzed with students scattered across benches, under trees, or along the low walls. The high sun filtered through the leaves, casting specks of light on the warm concrete. Daniel, leaning against a pillar, was watching her. Hena. Alone, as usual, with Bérénice not far. He saw only her. The rest was just background noise, a blurry canvas behind the one thing that stirred his thoughts.
She had that thing. That crack in her gaze. That tension in her shoulders, like she was carrying the weight of the world. Like each step brought her closer to an abyss no one else could see. No one but him.
Daniel clenched his fingers against the stone. He didn't like seeing her like that. It wasn't compassion. It was something else. Fascination. A need to dig, to pry open that shell until it broke. He wanted her to unravel. But not in front of the others. Only in front of him.
He took a deep breath, pushed back a stray lock of hair, and walked toward her. Slowly. Deliberately. Every step measured.
— "If those guys come after you again… you can come to me."
Hena looked up, surprised. A tiny reaction. She squinted slightly, as if to be sure she'd heard correctly.
— "I don't need your help. I can handle myself just fine."
Cold. Defensive. But he'd seen the crack. A split second. The hesitation.
She turned and walked away, leaving him there. Daniel didn't move. He was used to rejection. But this one had a different flavor. Not humiliation. More like provocation. A hidden invitation. She just didn't know yet what she really wanted.
Bérénice caught up with Hena, hurrying to her side.
— "Why'd you talk to him like that?"
— "Because I don't want him thinking I'm some victim. Is that what I am, Bérénice? A helpless girl that needs saving?"
— "Hena… he was just offering help. He stood up for you, remember? No one else did that night. Even I froze."
Hena slowed down, biting her lower lip. Her eyes dropped to the ground, a mix of pride and shame in her gaze.
— "I don't like the way he looks at me," she murmured. "It's like he sees through me."
— "Maybe he just sees you differently. And maybe that's not such a bad thing."
Meanwhile, Daniel had sat down again, his gaze fixed on a vague point in front of him. He barely heard the laughter around. A voice inside his head spoke louder.
She pushed me away, but she'll come back. They always do. Because they want to be seen. And I see them all. Entirely. Deep down. It's only a matter of time.
A few minutes later, Hena came back. Daniel was still there, alone, a half-eaten apple in one hand. She approached, hesitated, then stopped a few steps from him.
— "I… sorry about earlier. I was… harsh."
Daniel looked at her for a long moment. Then shrugged.
— "It's nothing."
She sat down next to him, keeping some distance. They stayed silent for a while. The ambient noise seemed to fade.
— "Do you know those guys?" she asked.
— "Not really. But I know their type. And what they want."
She didn't reply but nodded slowly.
Daniel looked away, a barely visible smile on his lips. She had come back. That was all that mattered.
The game had begun.
The sun was slowly setting, stretching long shadows across the pavement. Daniel walked at a reasonable distance, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on the figure ahead of him. Hena hadn't noticed him. Or maybe she pretended not to. He doubted that. She walked quickly, nervously, her shoulders slightly hunched as if she wanted to disappear into the crowd, to blend into the grayness.
Daniel had seen her leave school alone. Bérénice wasn't with her this time. A blessing.
He had waited a few moments before following her, patient, silent like a shadow. She seemed to always take the same route, turning through worn-out streets, past faded neon shops, past aging apartment buildings whose windows spoke of years of exhaustion.
Daniel already knew the address. He had looked it up. But following her like this was something else. It was immersion into her world. Seeing, breathing, understanding. He wanted to know everything about her, to grasp it all: her rituals, her fears, her silences.
She finally reached a small, run-down building. It wasn't particularly filthy, but everything about it reeked of neglect: the loose railing of the stairway, the creaky front door, the walls with peeling wallpaper. She entered without looking back.
Daniel waited, hidden in a corner, eyes locked on the first-floor windows. A light turned on. He knew that was it.
He didn't move. He stayed still like a statue, observing the blurry movements behind the curtains. He could make out shapes: Hena—slim, tense—and another figure, more hunched, unstable. Her mother, probably. Occasionally he heard raised voices, muffled snippets of sentences, sudden gestures. Then a heavy silence. Long. Uncomfortable.
He stepped back a little, leaning against the wall. He closed his eyes briefly. Part of him was fascinated. Another part, excited. He wasn't even sure anymore why he was there. Was it to understand her better? Or was it the cold thrill of control, of guessing her, invading her without her ever knowing?
He half-admitted it: he enjoyed this. Watching without being seen. Analyzing every detail of her routine, every crack. It wasn't love, not really. It was a meticulous obsession, almost scientific. A desire for possession. A slow psychological conquest.
Night fell. Another light turned off. Daniel didn't move right away. He stayed there longer, staring at the blackened window, as if he could still read something in it, as if the night would speak to him about her better than words ever could.
He eventually walked away, hands still in his pockets, his smile faint but very much real. He had seen enough. He had learned. And soon, he would move to the next step.
The next day, a light breeze stirred the leaves on the ground. Hena adjusted her jacket and quickened her pace. She was supposed to meet Bérénice at a small café ten minutes from the school. Nothing special, just a moment between friends—something they hadn't had in a while. But something irritated her. A vague feeling.
When she arrived in front of the café, she saw Bérénice already seated at a table on the terrace… with Daniel.
She froze. Her heart skipped slightly—a mix of surprise, suspicion, and annoyance.
What the hell is he doing here?
She quickly glanced around, as if she could still turn back. But it was too late. Daniel had seen her. He looked up, his lips forming the hint of a smile. That smile that unsettled her. Not because it was threatening, but because it seemed to see through everything.
Bérénice waved her over enthusiastically.
— "Hena! Over here!"
She walked up reluctantly, eyes locked on her friend.
— "I thought it was just the two of us."
Bérénice replied with casual ease:
— "Yeah, at first. But Daniel asked if I was going out this weekend, so I thought… why not? Might give you two a chance to get to know each other."
Hena sat down slowly, glancing sideways at Daniel.
Why is Bérénice doing this? She knows how I feel about him… Or is she trying to force me to see him differently?
She crossed her arms, visibly tense. Daniel remained silent, eyes calmly fixed on her, relaxed, as if he knew exactly what he was stirring inside her.
— "Hey," he said simply.
— "Hey," she replied quietly.
Is this a setup? A test? And him, why did he come? What does he want this time?
But deep down, another voice whispered.
Then why did I come?