The café was almost empty, soft music playing in the background as the evening settled in. Aira sat by the window, tracing circles on her coffee cup, lost in her thoughts—until he walked in.
Zayan.
He spotted her instantly, like he always did.
“Funny how I keep finding you,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her.
Aira smirked slightly. “Or maybe you’re just looking.”
“Maybe I am.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was charged. The kind that made her heartbeat louder than the music. She avoided his gaze, but she could feel it on her.
“You’ve been distant,” he said, softer now.
“I’ve been careful,” she replied.
“Careful with me?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Or careful with what you feel?”
She looked up then, caught off guard. His eyes held hers—steady, intense, impossible to escape.
“You don’t make it easy,” she admitted.
“Good,” he whispered.
Her breath hitched.
Without thinking, she stood up, needing space—but he followed. Outside the café, the night air was cooler, but it didn’t calm the fire building inside her.
“You should go,” she said quietly.
“Do you want me to?” he asked, stepping closer.
She didn’t answer.
That was enough.
He reached for her hand, pulling her gently closer. Not rushed. Not forced. Just… certain. Their faces inches apart, breaths mixing, hearts racing in sync.
“Aira,” he murmured.
This time, she didn’t stop him.
Their lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then deeper, like they had both been waiting too long. The world faded again, leaving only the feeling of him, the warmth, the undeniable pull.
When they finally pulled apart, her eyes searched his.
“This is dangerous,” she whispered.
Zayan smiled softly. “Only if we pretend it’s not real.”
And neither of them wanted to pretend anymore.
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