The warning didn't come the way I expected.
No footsteps. No shadows. No fear crawling up my spine.
It came wrapped in politeness.
I was at my desk when the note appeared—slipped between pages of my notebook sometime between classes. No handwriting I recognized. No name.
Just one sentence.
Be careful who you sit with. Some stories don't need company.
My fingers went cold.
I didn't look around immediately. Whoever had left it didn't want to be seen—they wanted to be felt.
When I showed it to Ruhan, his face changed in a way I hadn't seen before.
Do not panic. Recognition.
"This is it," he said quietly.
"This what?"
"The part where they pretend they're doing you a favor."
I folded the note slowly. "They want me to move."
He nodded. "They always do."
I searched his face. "And if I don't?"
He didn't answer right away.
"They'll keep reminding you that staying has consequences," he said finally. "Not dangerous ones. Just… uncomfortable."
Like whispers. Like looks. Like being followed without being touched.
I exhaled slowly. "So this is about control."
"Yes," he said. "It always is."
We walked to class together anyway.
Same bench. Same distance.
Someone noticed. Someone always did.
At lunch, a teacher paused near our table longer than necessary. Didn't say anything. Just stood there—long enough to register, short enough to deny.
Ruhan didn't flinch.
But later, as we stood near the stairs, he spoke.
"If you want to move," he said quietly, "I won't stop you."
I turned to him immediately. "Do you want me to?"
"No," he said. "I want you safe."
"I am safe," I replied. "They're not warning me because I'm weak. They're warning me because I'm staying."
He looked at me then—something unsettled in his eyes.
"This is how it starts," he said. "People don't force you. They make you choose fear."
I held his gaze. "Then I choose presence."
The bell rang.
Noise returned. Life pretended nothing was happening.
But I knew better now.
This wasn't about rumors anymore. It wasn't even about his father.
It was about what happens when two people refuse to adjust themselves for other people's comfort.
And as we walked back into class, I understood something quietly dangerous:
They weren't asking me to leave him.
They were waiting to see whether I would.