Chapter 7: The Unspoken Storm
That night, after sitting with Zayaan in the garden, Eliza couldn't sleep. His words echoed in her mind again and again:
"Sometimes, when I speak… no one listens. But when I write, at least the paper does."
She looked out the window. His light was off. But it didn't matter.
He had already lit something inside her.
The next morning, Eliza woke up earlier than usual. Her uniform felt strange — like it belonged to someone else. Yet something pulled her toward school with a strange excitement she couldn't name.
Maybe it was a feeling.
Maybe it was him.
She walked quickly through the school gates, her heart strangely light — only to pause when she entered the main hallway.
There he was.
Zayaan.
Standing by a locker, wearing headphones around his neck, flipping through a notebook.
Eliza's breath hitched slightly. She didn't expect to see him here — not like this.
But he looked up.
And he smiled — that soft, knowing smile that felt like it belonged only to her.
"You go here?" he said, a little surprised, a little amused.
Eliza laughed nervously.
"Apparently... so do you."
They ended up walking together to the courtyard, under the shade of an old tree where the sunlight filtered like soft gold. Their words flowed more freely now — lighter, warmer.
But then something changed.
Zayaan grew quiet.
He looked down at his hands, then back at her.
"Can I tell you something I've never told anyone at this school?"
Eliza nodded gently.
He closed his eyes for a second, then spoke:
"I don't really have friends here. People think I'm weird — too quiet, too lost in my notebooks. Teachers say I'm distracted. Classmates think I'm cold."
He paused.
"But I'm just... tired. Tired of pretending I'm okay. Tired of showing up with smiles I don't mean. My mom thinks I'm fine. My dad barely notices. And most days, I feel like I'm just... existing. Not living. Just floating."
His voice broke a little at the end.
Eliza didn't interrupt.
She didn't speak to fill the silence.
She just looked at him — really looked.
Then she whispered,
"You're not floating anymore. You're seen. I see you, Zayaan."
And in that moment, the world slowed down.
Zayaan's eyes met hers. For once, they didn't look guarded.
They looked... soft. Vulnerable.
"Thank you," he said.
"For hearing me without asking me to explain."
Eliza placed her hand gently on his.
"You don't have to explain yourself to be understood."
And just like that, something unspoken passed between them — a kind of closeness that doesn't need years or promises.
It just needs truth.
And they had finally found it — in each other.