Zayn

The house is full. Voices overlap in every corner, laughter rising and fading in waves. The smell of food lingers in the air, plates being passed from hand to hand, cups clinking softly. It is one of those familiar gatherings where time feels slower, where everyone speaks a little louder than usual, as if trying to fill the space completely. You are seated slightly away from the center of the room.Sitting with Laila, Zayn's little sister who is bigger than you with four months. You two talking casually about the school and planning to go to the mall for shopping. Then the door opens. A shift in the room happens instantly—subtle, but noticeable. A few heads turn. Smiles appear a little more naturally. He walks in. Your brother is the first to greet him, pulling him into the room with an ease that shows how familiar they are. For a moment, everything feels normal again. He exchanges greetings politely, his voice calm, controlled. He sits down among the others without drawing attention to himself, blending into the environment as if he had been there all along. But you notice him before you want to. You always do. At first, you tell yourself not to look too much. It is nothing. Just someone your family has known for years. Just your brother’s closest friend. Nothing more than that. Still, your eyes drift toward him without permission. And then—his gaze catches yours. It is brief. Almost careless. Something that could easily be dismissed as coincidence. But it doesn’t feel like coincidence. It lingers just a second longer than necessary, enough to make you aware of it. Enough to make your attention sharpen slightly, even if your expression stays unchanged. You look away first. Not because you are flustered exactly… but because you don’t want to be noticed noticing. A strange thought passes through you, one you don’t fully examine. He always seems a little too aware of you. Not in an obvious way, not enough to accuse him of anything, but enough that it sits quietly at the back of your mind. And you don’t fully trust it.Not because he has done anything directly wrong. But because you have heard things. Stories. Light warnings wrapped in jokes. People mentioning how he can be a little… inconsistent with girls. Charming one moment, distant the next. Never fully staying in one place emotionally. And maybe that is why, even now, something in you stays slightly guarded. You are not uninterested. That would be a lie you don’t admit even to yourself. There is something there—small, unspoken, unclaimed. A quiet awareness that you try not to give too much meaning to. But trust does not come easily because of that same awareness. The room continues moving around you. Conversations rise again, laughter returning as the moment passes. Later, someone brings up childhood memories. The kind of stories adults repeat because they never get old. Laila laughs loudly. “You remember how you two used to run around the house all the time?” A few people chuckle. Someone adds another detail, and the conversation becomes warmer, more nostalgic. Before you can respond, his voice enters the moment calm, slightly amused. "She hasn’t changed much.” It sounds simple. Almost meaningless. Something anyone could say in passing. But when you glance at him— He is already looking at you. Not openly. Not in a way that invites attention. Just enough that it feels intentional if you catch it. This time, there is something at the edge of his expression. Not a full smile. Not anything obvious. Just a faint shift. A hint of familiarity that does not belong to the room.Laila is the only one who notice this. She looks at you, amused. She hit you with her elbow then laughs lightly.