Unspoken Truths

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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.

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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.

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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.

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