The alarm rang at 6:30 AM — sharp, cold, and unforgiving.
Rayyan opened his eyes, but his heart felt heavier than his bag ever could. The ceiling looked the same, the dull morning light the same, the quiet room the same — yet something inside him had changed.
He sat up slowly.
Yesterday was real. Lisa was Ayden's girlfriend.
The thought pressed into his chest like a stone that refused to move.
He dressed, washed, packed his books — movements mechanical, emotionless. His reflection in the mirror told the truth he tried to hide:
Eyes tired. Smile gone. A quiet sadness, sinking deep and unspoken.
He stepped outside.
The morning air felt colder today.
At the bus stop, life went on — laughter, scrolling screens, careless chatter.The world did not pause for heartbreak.It never does.
Rayyan stood among them, silent — blending in, pretending, holding himself together piece by piece.
When he reached campus, he walked toward the lecture hall — the same hallway. Today, the hallway felt longer, heavier, as though every step asked him if he was ready for what reality had become.
He entered class early. Almost empty.
He sat in his usual front seat. Opened his notebook. Uncapped his pen.
But his mind wasn't on the equations. It drifted to:
Her eyes avoiding his.
The silence between them.
The bruises she tried to hide.
And then the questions — sharp, relentless.
Should I ask her? Should I stay silent? Should I tell Ayden? Should I walk away?
He inhaled deeply.
Focus, Rayyan… Your studies… your future… your parents' hopes… You survived harder things. You can survive this too.
Students began to enter. Footsteps, chatter, movement.
But not hers.
He didn't need to look — the empty space behind him said enough. Lisa was absent.
His heart tightened. Worry darkened into something heavier.
Why wasn't she here? Was she with Ayden? Did Ayden sense something? Did something happen to her?
He forced his eyes to the board.
Let the class finish. Just finish.
But the words blurred. His mind would not obey.
When class ended, he walked out, hollow and aching. Hunger and anxiety twisted inside him, and he couldn't tell which one hurt more.
He went to the campus café.
The table where they sat yesterday was empty.
No Lisa. No trace of her. Just silence.
He ordered lunch anyway. Not because he wanted to eat — but because he didn't want to be alone.
He spotted Amir and his friends.
"Bro! Join us!" Amir waved.
Rayyan sat with them — laughed when they laughed, nodded when they spoke — performing normalcy like a script he had memorized.
But inside, his mind spiraled:
Maybe she's with Ayden. Maybe Ayden knows. Maybe… she got hurt again.
He clenched his jaw.
No. Ayden wouldn't. He's not that person… right? I know him… I think I know him…
But doubt is poison — and it had already begun to spread.
Should I ask him? Should I confront him?
Reality struck hard:
I live here because of his family's support. My parents think I'm doing well — studying, building a future. They trust me.
I cannot risk everything… over feelings.
He swallowed.
The pain inside him throbbed — deep, suffocating.
The wounds of his childhood — blood, scars, bruises — all felt lighter than this quiet ache sitting behind his ribs.
Why? Why always me? Oh God… when will my heart stop drowning before it learns to swim?
He closed his eyes.
Life around him continued.
Laughter went on. Movement went on. Time went on.
And Rayyan remained — suffering silently in the noise.
After lunch, he walked back to his hostel. The afternoon sun felt too bright — mocking his heaviness.
He entered his room and sat on the bed.
No tears. No breakdown. Just silence.
He lay down. Just to rest.
But rest did not come.
Every thought led to her. Every silence echoed her name. Every heartbeat carried weight.
Evening approached.
Rayyan forced himself to study.
He tried — he really tried — but the sentences blurred, the numbers lost shape, the pages faded into nothing.
Finally, he closed the book and leaned back — exhausted not by effort, but by emotion.
He lay on his bed again, arm covering his eyes.
Just to rest. Just to breathe. Just to forget for a moment.
Ring.
His phone vibrated.
He didn't move.
Ring…
The sound felt far away.
He reached for it slowly — answered without looking.
"…Hello?"
Silence.
Then — a voice.
Soft. Fragile. Breaking.
"Rayyan…?"
His breath stopped.
The world stilled.
Everything hurt and softened at once.
He closed his eyes.
"…I'm here."