CHAPTER -8: A Fracture In The Glass

The campus was nearly empty.

Night draped the sky in bruised velvet, and the only sound in the corridor was the hum of vending machines.

Kairo had come back for his phone. He didn't expect to hear voices.

No—just one voice.

Low. Cold.

And trembling.

He slowed, following the sound like a moth drawn to a crack of light.

Around the corner, under the dim glow of a flickering lamp, stood Ayan—back to the wall, phone pressed to his ear. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw locked, but his words… they weren't the kind Ayan usually used.

> "No. I said I'll handle it. Don't—"

pause

"You think I care what they say?"

His tone was sharp, but something in it splintered—thin, brittle, breaking under weight.

Another pause.

Kairo stopped just out of sight, his chest tight.

Then came Ayan's voice again, softer this time. So soft it didn't sound like him at all.

> "Don't call me again. …Please."

The line clicked dead.

Ayan stood there for a moment, head bowed, fingers gripping the phone like it was choking him. His breath shook—just once. Barely audible.

Then he straightened, mask sliding back into place like a blade sheathed in silence.

But when he turned, Kairo was there.

Leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. No grin this time. No sunshine.

Just quiet eyes that had seen too much.

> "You okay?"

The question was soft. Dangerous in its simplicity.

Ayan froze for half a beat—then his lips curled, sharp and bitter.

> "Do I look broken to you?"

Kairo didn't answer. He didn't move.

And for the first time, Ayan hated the silence more than the words.

> "Stay out of it, Ren," he said finally, voice like ice fracturing over deep water.

He walked away without looking back.

But Kairo's gaze followed him like a brand, burning holes in every wall Ayan had built.

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