The corridor was empty when Ayan stepped out, shoulders tight, notes clutched like a shield.
He didn't expect Kairo leaning against the wall near the door, arms folded, eyes calm as dusk.
> "What now?" Ayan's voice was flat, sharp.
Kairo pushed off the wall slowly, closing the space between them in measured steps. Not too close. Not far enough.
> "You always look like you're running. Ever notice that?"
Ayan scoffed, bitter.
> "You've been watching me that closely? Sounds obsessive."
Kairo didn't blink.
> "Maybe it is."
The honesty was a blow Ayan hadn't expected. His fingers curled around the edge of his folder.
> "You think that's supposed to scare me?"
Kairo's tone stayed low, almost gentle.
> "No. I think it already does."
Something cracked inside Ayan—not visible, but deep, a hairline fracture under polished steel.
He stepped closer, voice a blade.
> "You think you're special? That you matter enough to rattle me? You don't. You're noise, Ren. Background. Replaceable."
The silence after that was brutal.
For a heartbeat, Kairo didn't move. Didn't speak.
Then he smiled—not wide, not warm. Just a curve that cut.
> "If that were true," he said softly, "you wouldn't have bothered to say it."
The air burned like a fuse.
Ayan's breath caught before he could stop it.
And then Kairo stepped back.
Not defeated. Not angry. Just calm, like someone who had already won something Ayan didn't understand yet.
> "See you tomorrow."
And then he was gone, leaving Ayan standing in the hollow quiet, his pulse pounding like it wanted to tear through his ribs.
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