-

Raveena had always believed that love was a fragile thing—easily broken, just like the family she came from. She had learned early on that promises were temporary, affection could be a weapon, and the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally often didn’t.

Her home had never been a sanctuary. The apartment she shared with her mother was small, filled with the echoes of things unsaid. The walls were thin enough that she could hear the neighbors arguing, but even thinner when it came to the silence between her and her mother.

It hadn’t always been this way. There had been a time when her mother smiled more, when laughter wasn’t such a foreign sound in their home. But that was before her father left. Before he packed his bags and walked out of their lives as if they had been nothing more than a passing phase.

Since then, love had felt like a trick—a cruel illusion designed to make people believe in something fleeting.

At seventeen, Raveena had made peace with the idea that some people weren’t meant for love. She kept her head down at school, avoided friendships that required too much vulnerability, and built a life around solitude. It was easier that way. Safer.

Until Damien.

He was new. That alone was enough to make him stand out. People at their school rarely transferred in the middle of the semester, and when they did, they usually tried to blend in, to find a place where they belonged.

Damien didn’t.

He moved through the hallways with an air of quiet confidence, as if he didn’t care whether he fit in or not. His dark hair was perpetually tousled, his uniform slightly unkempt, and he had the kind of gaze that made people uneasy—sharp, observant, like he was always thinking about something deeper than what was in front of him.

Raveena noticed him before he ever spoke to her.

And that was dangerous.

She first saw him during lunch, sitting alone at the farthest table, absently spinning a pen between his fingers. He didn’t seem to mind being by himself. If anything, he looked like he preferred it.

She didn’t expect him to notice her. Most people didn’t.

But then, one afternoon, he sat across from her in the library, unbothered by her silence.

“You always sit here,” he said.

Raveena blinked, taken off guard. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, like he had been paying attention.

“And you don’t,” she replied cautiously.

Damien smirked slightly, tilting his head as if studying her. “I do now.”

She should have ignored him. She should have given a clipped response and buried herself back in her book. But something in his expression—calm, steady, interested—made her hesitate.

People usually left her alone. And yet, here he was, acting like her silence wasn’t a barrier but an invitation.

For the first time in a long time, someone wasn’t just looking at her.

They were seeing her.

And that terrified her more than anything.

---

Chapter Two: Cracks in the Wall

Raveena wasn’t used to people noticing her. She had mastered the art of blending into the background, moving through life like a shadow—present but unseen. It was safer that way. If no one saw her, they couldn’t hurt her.

So when Damien started sitting with her in the library, she didn’t know what to do with him. At first, she ignored him, thinking he would get bored and leave. Most people did. But days passed, and he kept showing up. Not just in the library, but in the cafeteria, in the hallways, in the moments when she least expected company.

He never tried too hard to talk to her, never asked her personal questions or pried into things she didn’t want to share. He just… existed near her, as if that was enough. And maybe that was why she found herself letting him stay.

One afternoon, as she sat at her usual table by the window, Damien slid into the seat across from her, his movements unhurried, as if he belonged there.

“You always read this much?” he asked, nodding toward the novel in her hands.

Raveena barely glanced up. “It’s better than reality.”

Damien smirked, resting his chin on his fist. “That bad?”

She hesitated. Most people would take that as an opportunity to pry, to dig into the mess that was her life. But Damien’s voice held no pity, no forced curiosity—just simple interest. That made it harder to brush off.

“That complicated,” she admitted finally, flipping a page in her book.

He studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough.”

And just like that, he let it go. No follow-up questions. No pressure to explain.

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Damien pulled out his own book, flipping through the pages lazily. Raveena tried to focus on hers, but her eyes kept drifting toward him, taking in the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, the easy confidence in his posture. He wasn’t like other people at school. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

That made him dangerous.

She had spent years building walls, making sure no one got too close. Letting people in only led to disappointment.

So why did she feel herself loosening, just a little, around him?

After a while, Damien closed his book with a soft thud and stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, Raveena. I think I’ve earned a fun fact about you.”

She frowned. “What?”

“A fun fact. You know, something random.” His lips quirked up in amusement. “Like… I don’t know, do you have a weird talent? A guilty pleasure? Something that makes you, you?”

Raveena narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to figure you out.”

Her stomach did something strange at that. She quickly shoved the feeling aside.

“You’re wasting your time,” she muttered, returning to her book.

“Maybe,” Damien said, unfazed. “But I’m patient.”

He said it so easily, as if he already knew she wouldn’t shake him off.

As if he had decided she was worth the effort.

For a long time, Raveena had believed that no one would ever try to understand her. That people took one look at her quiet nature and assumed she had nothing to say.

But as she glanced at Damien, she had a terrifying realization.

He wasn’t looking away.

And even worse, she didn’t want him to.

---

---

Chapter Three: Unspoken Truths

Despite herself, Raveena started looking for him.

At first, it was subconscious—her eyes drifting toward the cafeteria entrance, scanning the halls. She told herself she wasn’t searching for Damien, that it was just coincidence. But coincidence didn’t explain the sinking feeling she felt when he wasn’t where she expected him to be.

She had spent years convincing herself that loneliness was safer. That it was better to be alone than to rely on someone who would eventually leave.

So when Damien wasn’t in the library one afternoon at their usual time, she tried not to care. She buried herself in her book, telling herself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t her friend. He was just someone who happened to be there.

And yet, as the minutes ticked by, her concentration wavered.

Fifteen minutes passed before he finally arrived, his steps casual as he slid into the seat across from her.

“You’re late,” she muttered before she could stop herself.

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Miss me?”

She scowled, gripping the edges of her book. “No.”

He smirked but didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching her. “You always get this absorbed in books?”

“They’re more reliable than people,” she said without thinking.

His smirk faded. “Yeah,” he said after a beat. “I get that.”

Something about the way he said it made her pause. There was an edge to his voice, something unsaid lingering beneath the surface.

She wanted to ask.

But that would mean letting herself care.

And she wasn’t ready for that.

---

Raveena’s home life hadn’t changed.

Her mother still worked late shifts, coming home exhausted and barely speaking. The fridge was always half-empty, the apartment filled with the quiet hum of a life that felt more like an obligation than a home.

She never mentioned Damien to her mother. Not because she was hiding him, but because she didn’t know what he was to her. A friend? An annoyance? A mistake waiting to happen?

One night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her phone vibrated.

A text.

From Damien.

Damien: I bet you’re still awake.

Her fingers hesitated over the screen before she replied.

Raveena: What makes you think that?

Damien: Because you think too much.

Her breath caught in her throat.

How did he know that?

Raveena: And what are you doing?

Damien: Thinking too much.

She stared at his response for a long time, her chest tight.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt lost in the silence of the night.

For the first time in years, she didn’t feel completely alone.

---

The next few weeks blurred into something unfamiliar.

Raveena found herself laughing at Damien’s dry humor, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm, and—worst of all—feeling comfortable.

Comfort was dangerous. Comfort led to trust, and trust led to heartbreak.

So when Damien walked her home one day, she felt her walls creeping back up.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said as they neared her apartment building.

“I know.”

That was the problem. He always did things without expecting anything in return. And that scared her more than anything.

Because it made her want to believe.

Damien glanced up at her apartment, then back at her. “Your mom home?”

She hesitated. “Probably. Maybe not.”

His gaze lingered on her, sharp and observant. He never pried, but she could tell he wanted to.

Before he could say anything, she crossed her arms. “Why do you care?”

Damien shrugged. “I just do.”

That answer unsettled her more than anything else.

She wanted to tell him to stop. To turn around and never look back.

But she didn’t.

And that terrified her the most.

---