Amiyah leans in next, embraces me in a gentle hug that smells like home. James lingers behind her, watchful, protective, and Calla gives me a look that tells me she’s clocked everything but isn’t saying a word. Not yet.
Calil is the last to move.
He steps closer, lowering himself again, his hand brushing my arm with a tenderness that makes my chest tighten. He presses a kiss to my forehead, slow and intimate, like it belongs there.
“I’ll check on you between classes,” he murmurs. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
His thumb lingers just a second too long, and I feel the room notice even as they pretend not to.
As he turns to leave, Amiyah pauses beside me and leans in close, her voice barely a whisper. “We’re talking. Because you have some explaining to do.”
Then they’re gone.
The door clicks shut, and suddenly it’s quiet. Too quiet.
Zaria sits in the chair beside my bed, posture stiff, hands folded tightly in her lap. The tension between us is thick, pressing in on my chest harder than the pain ever could.
“Spill it,” I say softly. “Because this silence is smothering us.”
She exhales, long and shaky, eyes fixed on the floor. “What’s going on between you and Calil?”
I turn my head to face her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she says, finally looking up at me, hurt flashing across her beautiful face, “it looks like you’re falling in love. And it looks like I’m going to be on the losing end of that.”
The words hit me harder than any flare ever has. “Zaria,” I breathe. “Why would you think you’re expendable in my world?”
She swallows. “Because that’s how it always goes. I’m good enough to be someone’s beautiful secret. Someone’s private desire. Never the love they choose out loud.”
My heart aches at the truth buried in her voice. I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together, rubbing my thumb gently over her knuckles. Her skin is warm, familiar, grounding.
“Zaria,” I say softly, “you’re the reason we haven’t gone public. Not because I don’t want to. Because you weren’t ready.”
She freezes.
I lift her hand, press a kiss to her palm, then to her wrist. “I chose you. Repeatedly. I still am.”
Her eyes shine, emotion crowding her expression, leaving her speechless.
“But I still don’t trust him,” she finally admits. “I don’t know why. I just don’t.”
“I don’t have all the answers,” I say honestly. “I just know what I feel. And I need you to hear this.”
She looks at me then, really looks at me.
“What if,” I say quietly, “I have enough space in my heart to love you and Calil?”
The question hangs between us, heavy and unresolved.
Zaria doesn’t answer. She just leans closer, her hand sliding up my arm, fingers gentle, probing for a comfort that only I can provide. She presses her forehead to mine, our breaths mingling, her thumb tracing slow circles against my skin.
She’s devastatingly beautiful like this, eyes dark, lips soft, vulnerability written across every line of her face. I kiss her temple, then her cheek, then rest my lips at the corner of her mouth, not crossing the line, just reminding her I’m here.
We sit there in the quiet, tangled in questions neither of us is ready to answer.
And I know, deep in my bones, that nothing will ever be simple again.
The quiet stretches after my question, thick and fragile. Machines hum softly, reminding us that my body is still the enemy tonight, even if the pain has dulled. Zaria shifts closer to the bed, resting her forearms on the mattress, fingers grazing my wrist like she needs to anchor herself to something real.
