By the time three weeks passed, Maliya had stopped counting how many days it had been since her first one at Ridgeway.
She still sat alone sometimes - not out of habit, just because quiet felt safe. But lately, the silence wasn't always empty. Khadija would wave her over at lunch, Leo would throw in a joke that made her roll her eyes but laugh anyway, and Amir - calm, steady Amir - had a way of making her feel seen without asking for too much.
She was learning. Slowly. Not healed. Not there yet. But trying.
The cafeteria buzzed that Friday - trays clattering, sneakers squeaking, the smell of fries and pizza mixing with too-loud laughter. Maliya and her friends sat in their usual corner near the windows, sunlight cutting soft squares across the table.
Leo was halfway through a story about how he almost set off a fire alarm in chemistry class. Khadija kept interrupting, insisting his version was exaggerated. Amir just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Maliya was somewhere between amused and confused.
Then the noise around them shifted - like everyone suddenly had their attention turned toward the same point in the room.
Maliya followed their gazes.
A group of students stood near the vending machines, crowding around a tall boy with messy brown hair and that kind of grin that looked unbothered by gravity. He wasn't even trying to be the center of attention. He just was.
"Oh," Leo said, noticing where she was looking. "Teo's back."
"Teo?" Maliya asked.
"Matteo De Luca," Amir explained, leaning back. "Half the school either hates him, wants to be him, or wants to be with him." He gave a half-shrug.
Khadija clicked her tongue. "Or all three."
Maliya frowned. "Why? What's with him?"
Khadija leaned closer, her voice lowering. "Just avoid him."
"Why?" Maliya pressed. "He did something?"
Khadija hesitated - and for the first time, her usual confidence cracked just slightly. "He almost messed up our friendship last year," she said. "Tried to play hero when no one asked him to. He's... complicated."
Leo muttered, "Translation: Khadija can't stand losing an argument to him."
Khadija glared. "It wasn't an argument. He was-" She stopped. "Never mind. Just stay clear."
Maliya nodded slowly, though her eyes lingered on Teo. He laughed at something one of the girls said, tossing his hair back - and for a second, just one angle of his face, the curve of his jaw in the light - her chest tightened.
Ethan.
No. She blinked hard. Not Ethan. Not even close, really. Just a flicker. A trick of memory.
Still, something about him - the way he moved, the way he carried that quiet confidence - felt unsettlingly familiar.
Later that day, Maliya and Amir ended up walking out of school together. Khadija had basketball practice, Leo got detention ("Apparently, 'testing if the smoke detector actually works' is not a good science experiment," he'd said), so it was just the two of them.
"You've been quiet since lunch," Amir said.
She glanced at him. "I'm just tired."
He didn't buy it. "Or thinking about Teo?"
Maliya gave a small, embarrassed laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not really. But you looked like you saw a ghost."
"Maybe I did," she murmured.
He didn't push. Amir had this way of leaving silence open - not awkward, just there, waiting.
When they reached the gate, Maliya paused. "Hey, can I ask something?"
"Sure."
"Do you think he's a bad guy?"
Amir considered for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I think he's just a guy who made some bad calls. Happens to all of us. Some people just don't let you forget it."
His tone wasn't defensive - just honest.
Maliya nodded, thinking about that as she watched Teo across the parking lot, surrounded again, laughing, alive in a way she hadn't been for a long time.
Part of her wanted to believe Khadija. The other part wondered why she couldn't stop noticing the way he reminded her of someone she swore she'd buried in her past.
That night, she wrote in her journal:
> Week three. I'm not hiding as much anymore. They're kind. Real. But there's this new boy everyone talks about - the one who feels too familiar. I don't know if I should stay away or try to understand why he makes me remember.
She paused, pen hovering. Then added quietly:
> Maybe this is how healing starts - not with forgetting, but with facing what still echoes.
She closed the journal and exhaled, letting the hum of the night settle in her chest.
She looked out the window - at the streetlights blinking in the distance, the world still going on - and whispered to herself,
"Maybe this time, I'll try."
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