Zayne

It was almost 5 p.m. You'r last class had just ended, and like always, you walked out of the university feeling tired but excited. Because you knew he’d be there.

And he was. Zayne, leaning against his sleek black car, hands in the pockets of his long coat, eyes locked on you like you was the only thing that mattered.

His black hair moved slightly with the breeze, his neatly trimmed beard gave him that mature, masculine vibe, and those greenish-grey eyes… they only lit up when they saw you. He was 28 years old and he wasn't at you'r university..and you was 23 years old.

Everyone at university knew who he was.

Girls whispered about him.

Guys respected him.

But Zayne? He never looked at anyone else. Just you.

When you got close, his smile softened. He opened the car door for you, took your bag, and asked in that calm voice:

"How was your day, babe?"

On the drive home, soft music played. He always paid attention to the little things—cracking the window just enough so the air felt fresh, making sure you was comfortable, making you feel safe.

Zayne was a true gentleman. At cafés, he pulled out your chair. When you talked, he listened like every word mattered. And when you was upset, he didn’t need to say much—just held you'r hand, and everything felt okay.

But that day… something was different.

Two guys were standing near his car, watching you a little too closely.

One of them said loudly:

"She’s hot. Comes out around this time every day. We should talk to her sometime..."

Zayne didn’t flinch. He stepped away from the car, walking toward them slowly, like a storm about to hit.

When he reached them, his voice was low but sharp "Say her name like that again, and I swear you won’t be able to speak for a while."

Silence.

Even the wind seemed to stop.

The guys backed off, no words, no attitude—just fear.

Zayne turned back to you, and the fire in his eyes melted into warmth.

He smiled, took you'r hand, and said:

"As long as I’m here, no one’s ever gonna mess with you."

To others, Zayne was intimidating—someone you didn’t dare cross.

But to you? He was home.

He was the guy who could stop the world with a stare, but would hold you like you was made of glass.

And you? You was the only one who could calm that storm inside him.

When you was near, that fierce lion turned into a man who just wanted to say:

"You’re the reason I breathe easy."

Today you woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the window. One of those days where even the sky feels heavy—just like you. You had class, but no motivation. You threw on something simple: jeans, a grey coat, and that black scarf Zayne always says “matches your eyes perfectly.”

On the way to university, the streets were quiet. Rain fell softly, and all you could think about was one thing: Would he be waiting for me today?

Classes passed, but you'r mind wasn’t really there. It was full of his voice, his eyes, and that calm feeling you only get when I’m with him.

Five o’clock. You walked out of the university, and there he was. Standing in the rain, no umbrella, leaning against his car like always. His coat was soaked, but he didn’t care. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up with that smile— the one that’s only for YOU.

He walked over, gently fixed you'r wet scarf, and said: "Rain’s beautiful… but you’re more."

It was almost 5 p.m. You'r last class had just ended, and like always, you walked out of the university feeling tired but excited. Because you knew he’d be there.

And he was. Zayne, leaning against his sleek black car, hands in the pockets of his long coat, eyes locked on you like you was the only thing that mattered.

His black hair moved slightly with the breeze, his neatly trimmed beard gave him that mature, masculine vibe, and those greenish-grey eyes… they only lit up when they saw you. He was 28 years old and he wasn't at you'r university..and you was 23 years old.

Everyone at university knew who he was.

Girls whispered about him.

Guys respected him.

But Zayne? He never looked at anyone else. Just you.

When you got close, his smile softened. He opened the car door for you, took your bag, and asked in that calm voice:

"How was your day, babe?"

On the drive home, soft music played. He always paid attention to the little things—cracking the window just enough so the air felt fresh, making sure you was comfortable, making you feel safe.

Zayne was a true gentleman. At cafés, he pulled out your chair. When you talked, he listened like every word mattered. And when you was upset, he didn’t need to say much—just held you'r hand, and everything felt okay.

But that day… something was different.

Two guys were standing near his car, watching you a little too closely.

One of them said loudly:

"She’s hot. Comes out around this time every day. We should talk to her sometime..."

Zayne didn’t flinch. He stepped away from the car, walking toward them slowly, like a storm about to hit.

When he reached them, his voice was low but sharp "Say her name like that again, and I swear you won’t be able to speak for a while."

Silence.

Even the wind seemed to stop.

The guys backed off, no words, no attitude—just fear.

Zayne turned back to you, and the fire in his eyes melted into warmth.

He smiled, took you'r hand, and said:

"As long as I’m here, no one’s ever gonna mess with you."

To others, Zayne was intimidating—someone you didn’t dare cross.

But to you? He was home.

He was the guy who could stop the world with a stare, but would hold you like you was made of glass.

And you? You was the only one who could calm that storm inside him.

When you was near, that fierce lion turned into a man who just wanted to say:

"You’re the reason I breathe easy."

Today you woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the window. One of those days where even the sky feels heavy—just like you. You had class, but no motivation. You threw on something simple: jeans, a grey coat, and that black scarf Zayne always says “matches your eyes perfectly.”

On the way to university, the streets were quiet. Rain fell softly, and all you could think about was one thing: Would he be waiting for me today?

Classes passed, but you'r mind wasn’t really there. It was full of his voice, his eyes, and that calm feeling you only get when I’m with him.

Five o’clock. You walked out of the university, and there he was. Standing in the rain, no umbrella, leaning against his car like always. His coat was soaked, but he didn’t care. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up with that smile— the one that’s only for YOU.

He walked over, gently fixed you'r wet scarf, and said: "Rain’s beautiful… but you’re more."

It was almost 5 p.m. You'r last class had just ended, and like always, you walked out of the university feeling tired but excited. Because you knew he’d be there.

And he was. Zayne, leaning against his sleek black car, hands in the pockets of his long coat, eyes locked on you like you was the only thing that mattered.

His black hair moved slightly with the breeze, his neatly trimmed beard gave him that mature, masculine vibe, and those greenish-grey eyes… they only lit up when they saw you. He was 28 years old and he wasn't at you'r university..and you was 23 years old.

Everyone at university knew who he was.

Girls whispered about him.

Guys respected him.

But Zayne? He never looked at anyone else. Just you.

When you got close, his smile softened. He opened the car door for you, took your bag, and asked in that calm voice:

"How was your day, babe?"

On the drive home, soft music played. He always paid attention to the little things—cracking the window just enough so the air felt fresh, making sure you was comfortable, making you feel safe.

Zayne was a true gentleman. At cafés, he pulled out your chair. When you talked, he listened like every word mattered. And when you was upset, he didn’t need to say much—just held you'r hand, and everything felt okay.

But that day… something was different.

Two guys were standing near his car, watching you a little too closely.

One of them said loudly:

"She’s hot. Comes out around this time every day. We should talk to her sometime..."

Zayne didn’t flinch. He stepped away from the car, walking toward them slowly, like a storm about to hit.

When he reached them, his voice was low but sharp "Say her name like that again, and I swear you won’t be able to speak for a while."

Silence.

Even the wind seemed to stop.

The guys backed off, no words, no attitude—just fear.

Zayne turned back to you, and the fire in his eyes melted into warmth.

He smiled, took you'r hand, and said:

"As long as I’m here, no one’s ever gonna mess with you."

To others, Zayne was intimidating—someone you didn’t dare cross.

But to you? He was home.

He was the guy who could stop the world with a stare, but would hold you like you was made of glass.

And you? You was the only one who could calm that storm inside him.

When you was near, that fierce lion turned into a man who just wanted to say:

"You’re the reason I breathe easy."

Today you woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the window. One of those days where even the sky feels heavy—just like you. You had class, but no motivation. You threw on something simple: jeans, a grey coat, and that black scarf Zayne always says “matches your eyes perfectly.”

On the way to university, the streets were quiet. Rain fell softly, and all you could think about was one thing: Would he be waiting for me today?

Classes passed, but you'r mind wasn’t really there. It was full of his voice, his eyes, and that calm feeling you only get when I’m with him.

Five o’clock. You walked out of the university, and there he was. Standing in the rain, no umbrella, leaning against his car like always. His coat was soaked, but he didn’t care. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up with that smile— the one that’s only for YOU.

He walked over, gently fixed you'r wet scarf, and said: "Rain’s beautiful… but you’re more."