Zoya didn’t even want to go.

She’d just settled into her new city. New air. New mornings without shouting. And suddenly, Aarfa was dragging her to someone’s house for “game night.”

> “Come on, Zoya, it’s just my college gang! You’ll love it,” Aarfa said while tossing clothes everywhere.

“I don’t even know them.”

“You didn’t know me once either. Look how that turned out.”

Zoya gave her a soft glare and tied her hair up. She wasn’t sure if she was more nervous about the crowd… or him.

Because after two days at college, she already knew Akif Malik was different.

---

The apartment was big, messy, and full of laughter. Someone had fairy lights hanging off a bookshelf. There was music playing in the background, and the smell of fries and Maggi filled the air.

Zoya walked in, hiding behind Aarfa’s shoulder… and there he was.

Akif.

Sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves rolled up. His hair was slightly damp like he’d just taken a shower.

He didn’t notice her at first. He was talking to Ayaan, laughing a little — and god, his smile was rare but dangerous.

When his eyes finally met hers, it wasn’t a long stare.

Just one glance.

But her stomach flipped.

> He’s here. Why do I care that he’s here?

---

They sat in a circle on cushions and blankets with snacks in the middle. Someone shouted, “Let’s play Truth or Dare!” and just like that — there was no escape.

Zoya tried to stay invisible.

No such luck.

> “Zoya,” Jiya’s voice sang out like poison dipped in sugar. “Truth or Dare?”

Everyone looked at her. Even Akif, from across the circle.

Zoya cleared her throat. “Truth.”

Jiya smirked. “Do you have a crush on anyone in this room?”

The room ooohhh’d like they were back in 8th grade.

Zoya blinked. “No.”

But the way her voice cracked slightly at the end? Everyone noticed.

She glanced at Akif — just once — and found him looking at the floor, unreadable.

---

Moments later, the bottle landed on him.

“Truth or dare, Mr. Malik?” Ayaan teased.

Akif leaned back, hoodie falling slightly off his shoulder. “Truth.”

“Have you ever had a thing for anyone in this group?”

Girls giggled. Jiya fixed her hair.

And Zoya held her breath.

Akif didn’t smirk. He didn’t laugh.

He just said, cool and calm,

> “No.”

And after a beat, “But maybe now.”

The silence that followed could’ve swallowed the entire room.

Zoya felt like the air had turned electric.

No one said anything. But the way he glanced at her — soft, but firm — told her exactly who the “maybe now” was about.

She looked away. But her face was already betraying her.

---

Later, in the kitchen, Zoya tried to escape the tension by pouring drinks.

She didn’t expect him to follow.

He leaned on the other side of the counter — silent. No warning. Just standing there like he always did — calm and unreadable.

> “You’re quiet tonight,” he said.

She looked at the soda in her hand. “I always am.”

> “Not always. Just around people you haven’t figured out yet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And which one are you?”

Akif smiled. Barely. “Still figuring that out myself.”

She exhaled. “Why did you defend me the other day?”

He looked up. That serious look again.

> “Because no one should be made to feel small for being quiet.”

“And?”

“And… I don’t like people who try to embarrass others to feel better.”

Zoya was quiet. The way he said it — like it came from personal experience.

> “You’ve been that person, huh? The one made to feel small.”

Akif’s jaw clenched a little. “Once.”

She didn’t ask more. She didn’t need to.

In that kitchen, it felt like they were the only two people in the world who understood silence the same way.

---

When they rejoined the group, things had shifted.

Jiya was suddenly quiet.

Aarfa winked at Zoya every five minutes.

And Akif? He didn’t sit across anymore.

He sat beside her.

Not too close. But close enough to feel like it meant something.

At one point, their shoulders brushed.

And Zoya forgot what the next game rule even was.

---

That night, Zoya lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan.

Her mind spinning.

> Why did he say "Maybe now"?

Why did he come into the kitchen?

Why did it feel so… real?

Aarfa whispered from her bed, “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Zoya didn’t reply.

But her cheeks gave her away.

---

> And just like that, what started as a runaway story

was slowly turning into a love she didn’t expect.

A slow burn.

A glance.

A boy who spoke softly… but meant every word.

---

To be continued...

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