Nami called it a truce, but I wasn't buying it. Suhina had gone quiet—too quiet—and the days dragged on, heavy with an unspoken edge. I'd catch Arin's shadow in the halls sometimes, always a step too far to call out, yet close enough to linger in my head. Funny how fate toys with you. You sidestep someone, and it still finds a way to yank you back.
Suhina and I still traded words here and there—small, brittle exchanges—but the cracks in our friendship had hardened into a chasm. What we once had felt like a ghost now, fragile and fading.
Then, one day, the air shifted.
The classroom buzzed with restless energy, thick enough to choke on. Suhina had been circling me for days—little digs tossed like grenades, words twisted just so, always when Arin was near enough to catch the fallout. She was painting me as the fool, and I'd let her think I didn't see it.
But today, she'd overplay her hand.
It started with Nami's whisper at lunch, her voice cutting through the cafeteria's hum as we sat picking at our trays.
"She's going to slip," she said, leaning in close, eyes glinting. "Just let her think she's got you."
So I did.
For the rest of the day, I played the part—kept my sarcasm holstered, my glares on a leash. Just smiles, soft and empty.
Suhina noticed fast. Her smirk crept wider, like a cat eyeing a bird with a broken wing.
She made her move after school, right by the gate where half the class lingered, their chatter a perfect audience.
Her voice rang out, loud and syrupy, engineered to turn heads.
"Aira, I really admire how confident you are," she started, her tone laced with venom dressed up as sugar.
I flicked my eyes to her, tilting my head. "Oh? That's new."
She giggled, flipping her hair with practiced ease. "No, really! I mean, not everyone has the guts to chase someone who clearly isn't interested."
The crowd stirred, murmurs rippling out. My nails bit into my palm, but I kept my face smooth, uncracked.
Arin had just stepped out, bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped cold, brows knitting as he turned toward us.
Suhina clocked his attention and pounced. "Poor Arin, right? Stuck dealing with someone who can't take a hint."
The air snapped taut, silence swallowing the chatter.
I smiled, slow and deliberate. "You're right, Suhina."
Her smirk bloomed, ripe with triumph. She thought she'd pinned me.
I stepped closer, voice dropping low—just for her and the nearest eavesdroppers.
"But here's a question. If I'm the one chasing Arin… why are you the one who can't stop talking about me to him?"
Her face stiffened, eyes darting.
The crowd shifted, whispers buzzing like static.
"I mean," I went on, crossing my arms, "if I'm so pathetic, wouldn't Arin have shut me down by now? Or…" I tapped my chin, feigning a revelation. "Are you just scared I don't need to chase him?"
Snickers broke out. Suhina's cheeks flared red, her mask slipping.
"Oh, and one more thing," I added, shrugging like it was an afterthought. "If you're trying to humiliate me in front of Arin, maybe check he's not standing right behind you."
Her breath hitched. She whipped around—there was Arin, arms folded, staring her down, his face a blank slate edged with something unreadable.
The weight of it crushed her.
Suhina sputtered, barely audible, then stormed off, her grand plan torched to ash.
Nami snorted beside me. "She flamed out harder than my math scores."
I grinned, but before I could fire back, Arin's voice cut through.
"She talks too much," he said, eyes brushing mine for a heartbeat before he turned and walked off.
One sentence. That's all it took.
Suhina was done—for now.