The campus study lounge was nearly empty when Rayyan entered. A faint orange glow from the setting sun spilled through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room. His textbooks were stacked on the table, but not a single word had entered his mind since morning.
Too much had happened.Too fast.Too heavy.
Then his phone buzzed.
Monica.
His heart jumped.
He swiped quickly.
"Rayyan… can I come to campus? I need to talk."
The message was short, but something inside those few words felt shaky—like she was holding herself together.
Rayyan replied almost instantly.
"Yes. Study lounge. I'll wait."
He didn't sit. He paced. And when he finally forced himself to sit, he kept glancing at the door every few seconds.
When she arrived, she looked… different.
Not broken.Not fragile.
But shaken in a way that made Rayyan's breath catch.
"Monica?" he stepped forward. "What happened? Are you hurt? Did—"
"No," she said quickly, raising a hand. "Not him."Her voice wavered."But something else happened at home."
They sat on the wooden bench by the window. She placed her bag beside her, exhaled, and stared at her trembling hands.
Rayyan noticed immediately.He gently reached out and touched her wrist.
"Monica… talk to me. Please."
She closed her eyes.
Then everything spilled out.
The moment she confronted her father.The shock on his face.The anger turning into confusion.Her father calling his friend.The shouting.The accusations.The doctor's father barging into their house, pointing fingers, claiming Monica "ruined his son," threatening to sue her.Her father stepping in, defending her fiercely.Her father telling them to leave their house.
As she spoke, her voice cracked, and her breaths came faster, like reliving the scene was cutting her again.
Rayyan clenched his fists."Monica… I'm so sorry you had to face that."
Her eyes lifted to his — tired, glassy, but strong.
"Rayyan," she whispered, "I thought everything was going to break. My dad… he never raises his voice. But today… he roared. For me."
She swallowed hard.
"And after they left, he hugged me… Rayyan, my father hugged me and apologised. He said he was wrong. He said he would never force me into anything again."
Rayyan felt a sharp sting in his chest — something between relief and something deeper, something warm.
"He really loves you," Rayyan said softly.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Rayyan reached out slowly — hesitant at first — then wiped it with his thumb.
She didn't pull back.
"Monica…" his voice softened, "I'm sorry. You went through all this because of me."
"No," she said immediately, grabbing his hand.Not loosely.Not gently.Firmly — as if anchoring him in place.
"It's not because of you. Don't take blame that isn't yours."
"But—"
She didn't let him finish.
"Rayyan, listen to me."Her voice trembled but carried undeniable strength."You didn't cause this. A bad man did. A liar. A manipulator. Not you."
Rayyan lowered his gaze."But if you weren't helping me… none of this would touch your family."
Monica leaned a little closer — their shoulders brushing — sending a small shock down his spine.
"I helped you because I care," she whispered. "Not because I was forced. Not because I was trapped. Because I wanted to."
Rayyan swallowed, his heartbeat quickening.
She continued, softer now, "You always think you're alone. That you're a burden. That trouble follows you. But Rayyan… sometimes people help because you matter to them."
He felt the world freeze for a moment.
He looked into her eyes — warm, aching, sincere — and something in his chest loosened, like he'd been holding his breath for months.
"Monica…" he whispered, voice cracking, "I don't want you hurt. Ever. Because of me or anything around me."
She gave a broken smile."Rayyan… look at me."
He did.
And she held his gaze — steady, gentle, unblinking.
"I'm not afraid," she said. "Not of trouble. Not of threats. Not of anyone. Because I know who I'm standing with."
Rayyan's breath trembled.
To hide it, he looked away for a moment. But Monica reached up and touched his cheek lightly, turning his face back to hers.
"You're safe now," she whispered."And I'm safe too. My dad believes me. He believes you. He said you handled everything better than most grown men would."
Rayyan blinked."He… he said that?"
She nodded."He respects you, Rayyan."
That sentence struck him harder than he expected.
Respected?By a man like her father?Someone powerful?Someone wealthy?
Rayyan wasn't used to adults seeing worth in him. His whole life had been filled with doubt, criticism, and the constant reminder of what he lacked.
His voice broke without warning."I… I don't know if I deserve that."
Monica frowned and moved even closer — so close he could feel her warmth.
"You deserve much more than that," she whispered. "If only you could see yourself the way I do."
Rayyan's heart stumbled.
The room felt smaller.Quieter.Like everything beyond the two of them had dimmed.
He didn't dare move.Didn't dare breathe too loud.
Because the way she was looking at him…It wasn't casual affection.It wasn't kindness.
It was something deeper — a quiet, powerful tenderness that scared him and healed him at the same time.
"Monica…" he breathed.
"Hmm?"
"If anything happened to you today… I don't know what I would've done."
Her lips parted slightly.A soft, shaky breath escaped her.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other — inches apart, hearts beating fast, caught in a warmth that neither dared to break.
Finally, Monica whispered, "Rayyan… I'm right here."
He nodded slowly.
"And I'm not going anywhere," she added, her voice barely above a breath.
He felt the truth of those words settle deep inside him like a quiet promise.
They sat together for a long time — not talking, just breathing, letting the storm of the past days finally settle.
Eventually, Monica stood up."I should go home… but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Rayyan nodded gently."Tomorrow," he echoed.
She took a few steps…
Then turned back.
"Rayyan?"
"Yes?"
Her eyes softened again.
"You're not alone anymore. Don't forget that."
He felt his heart swell — the fear, the guilt, the loneliness finally cracking open.
"I won't," he whispered.
She smiled — warm, small, beautiful — and left.
Rayyan watched her walk away, the faint tap of her shoes fading down the hallway, and for the first time in what felt like ages…
He wasn't afraid of tomorrow.
He wasn't drowning.
He wasn't alone.
He closed his eyes, leaned back on the wooden bench, and let the feeling settle deep into his bones.
Something had changed.
Not just outside.
Inside him.
And that night, for the first time in forever…hope didn't feel like a dream he could never reach.It felt real —because she was real.A girl who chose to be in his life.