Chapter twelve : Nyla

Things are different now. Different in the kind of way that feels… sad. Boring. Quiet. And maybe, just maybe—heartbreaking.

I don’t even know him that much. Not really. But somehow, I let myself catch feelings for him. Somewhere between the questions I asked and the way he explained them—so calm, so patient—I got attached. And now? Everything just feels empty.

Classes feel heavier now. I sit with my books open, staring at the same line for minutes, pretending to concentrate. But really, I’m just thinking about how he used to ask if we understood… if I was okay.

Now? Nothing.

Not a single glance in my direction. Not even by accident. When I raise my hand to ask something, he barely looks at me. When I call him for a doubt, he doesn’t pick up anymore. He just… texts the answer. That’s it. Boom. Vanishes.

No more check-ins. No more “good night, Nyla.” Not even a simple “take care.” He’s distant. Casually distant. Like everything that happened on that rooftop was just… nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to me.

He hadn’t said a word the rooftop incident. Not in class, not over text, not even a glance to say he remembered. I wasn’t expecting fireworks or some grand confession—I just thought maybe he’d look at me the same way I’d been looking at him. But instead, he looked away. Every single time.

Today, we met at the café like usual. Our little table by the window was waiting, sunlight slanting across the books and cold coffee mugs. Jessica was already flipping through her notes, chatting about some test she wasn’t ready for. Mr. Seth sat across from us, his pen resting still on the table.

He hadn’t even opened his notebook.

“I won’t be tutoring you guys this week,” he said, voice low but clear. “We’re taking a short break.”

Jessica blinked. “Oh. Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just… my dad’s in town. Some business meetings. He’s staying with me.”

She smiled, that kind, polite kind of smile. “Oh, okay. Well, take care. We’ll see you next week then.”

I didn’t say anything.I just stared at him. I didn’t mean to. But the words got stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat, and all I could do was look at him like maybe he’d say something more. Like maybe he’d look at me and say he was sorry for pulling away. That it wasn’t me. That the kiss actually meant something.

But he didn’t.His eyes never even met mine.

And just like that, the session ended.

He stood up, shoved the chair back too fast, and walked out of the café without a single glance over his shoulder.

I sat there a little longer than I should have, watching the door, wondering what I was doing wrong. Was it the kiss? Was I not supposed to do that? Did I ruin everything?Maybe I should’ve said something. But how do you bring up something that someone else is pretending didn’t happen?

Jessica nodded, understanding. “Take care, Mr. Seth. Hope everything goes okay.”

He gave a small smile and turned to leave, slinging his bag over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. And that should’ve been it. That should’ve been the moment I stayed seated, watched him go, and let it all be.

But I didn’t.

Before I could stop myself, my body moved faster than my thoughts—I rushed after him.

“Seth—wait!” I caught up just as he stepped onto the sidewalk, grabbing his arm gently.

He turned, surprised. His eyes landed on me—tired, unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” I said, breath a little uneven. “I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I just wanted to be honest that night. I didn’t expect anything from you. I just—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he cut in softly, but there was a crack in his voice, something unreadable in his gaze.

“Then why are you acting like this?” I asked, almost in a whisper. “Why are you pushing me away like I never existed?”

His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

He slowly took his arm away and softly smiled.

"See you next week", he said and walked away.

I wish I knew what was running through his mind right now. Maybe things would've been different if we just... talked. If we were honest. Communication might’ve saved something—maybe not everything, but something.But maybe he’s protecting himself. Or maybe he’s trying to protect me. Because this—whatever this is—was never supposed to happen.

I stood there, watching him walk away. Each step he took felt like something slipping out of reach. My apologies hung in the air, unanswered, turned down without a word.

And just like that, he disappeared again."

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It had been three days since the rooftop.

Three long, unbearable days without tutoring. Without seeing him. Without him.

He’d said his father was coming from China. That he needed a break. That we’d “resume next week.”But I couldn’t wait.

I needed to see him. I needed to know what was going on inside his head.

And maybe, yeah—maybe I also really had a maths quiz tomorrow.

I stood outside his door, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape. My fingers hovered above the doorbell. I thought about turning back. I thought about everything I’d already ruined.

But I still rang it.

A moment later, the door swung open.

His eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?”

I looked up at him, breathless. “I have a maths quiz tomorrow. It's important. I really, really need your help.”

“Nyla…” He sighed, glancing behind him nervously. “My father’s here. I can’t help you right now. Go home. Watch some video classes or something.”

I shook my head. “Please. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate.”

He looked torn. His hand ran through his hair, jaw tight. Another sigh.

Then finally, he moved aside.

“Come in.”

The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The air was heavy. His house was quiet—but not in a peaceful way. The kind of quiet that listened.From across the room, a man—his father—sat on the couch, staring straight at me. No smile. Just cold curiosity.

I gulped.

Mr. Seth cleared his throat. “This is one of my students. I’m just helping her with a quiz.”

His father didn’t respond. Just kept staring.

We moved to the study room. He closed the door behind us, the sound louder than it needed to be.We opened our notebooks. But neither of us could focus. Not really. I could still feel the tension outside that door.

“Your dad’s… intense,” I mumbled.

He gave a dry smile. “You have no idea.”

And after all those days, he finally looked at me. Really looked. His eyes met mine—deep, sharp, searching. Maybe it was just an accident, just a fleeting glance.

But for me? It felt like the world paused for a second.

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