When It Start Feeling Real
1026 Words
I told myself I wouldn’t think about him after that day in the library.
But thoughts don’t need permission.
They just show up.
Like Amir Bello had somehow left a trace in my mind I couldn’t erase.
It was irritating.
Even more irritating was the fact that he wasn’t even trying.
No extra messages.
No unnecessary checking up.
Just silence.
Controlled silence.
The kind that made you wonder if you imagined the whole thing.
Until the next group meeting.
—
“Why is he always like that?” Zainab asked as we walked toward the cafeteria the next day.
“Like what?” I replied.
“Like he owns time.”
I sighed. “That’s just how he is.”
Zainab stopped walking.
I stopped too.
She turned slowly to face me. “You’ve defended him twice in one conversation.”
“I didn’t defend him.”
“You explained him,” she corrected.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when it’s Amir Bello.”
I looked away. “You’re overthinking it.”
Zainab laughed. “Me? Or you?”
That question lingered longer than I liked.
—
The second meeting was worse.
Not because of him.
Because of me.
I arrived early this time.
Not because I wanted to prove anything.
But because I didn’t want him to say it again.
“You’re late.”
When I got to the library, he was already there.
Of course.
Same corner table.
Same calm posture.
Same unreadable expression.
He looked up as I approached.
Then said, “You’re early.”
I blinked. “That’s a problem now?”
“No,” he said. “It’s new.”
I sat down slowly. “I can be punctual sometimes.”
“I noticed,” he replied.
I paused. “You notice everything, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The answer was too quick.
Too certain.
I opened my notebook, trying to ignore the way that answer made me feel.
“Let’s just focus,” I said.
“We are focused,” he replied.
I glanced at him. “No, you are intense. There’s a difference.”
His pen stopped.
For a second.
Then he looked at me. “Intense is necessary.”
“For what? A group assignment?”
“For everything that matters,” he said simply.
That made me pause.
Something about the way he said it wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t emotional.
It was… final.
Like he believed it deeply.
I looked back down at my notes. “Not everything has to matter that much.”
“It does to me,” he said.
I didn’t respond immediately.
Because that answer wasn’t about school anymore.
It felt bigger.
He shifted the paper slightly toward me. “You haven’t done your part.”
I frowned. “I told you I would send it tonight.”
“You said that yesterday.”
I opened my mouth—
Then closed it again.
Because he was right.
I had said that.
And I had delayed.
Not because I couldn’t do it.
But because I kept finding excuses.
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll do it today.”
“Now,” he corrected.
I looked up at him. “You can’t just command people.”
“I’m not commanding,” he said. “I’m preventing delay.”
I stared at him for a long moment.
Then sighed. “You’re really exhausting, you know that?”
A pause.
Then—
“You’re still here,” he said.
That again.
That same line.
Like he kept using it to prove a point I didn’t want to accept.
I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe I’m just committed to the work.”
“Maybe,” he said.
But the way he said it didn’t sound like he believed it.
—
By the time we were done, the sky outside had changed color.
Evening light spilled through the library windows, softer now.
I stretched my fingers slightly. “Okay. That’s enough for today.”
He closed his laptop. “We’re behind schedule.”
I raised an eyebrow. “There is no schedule. You created it in your head.”
“It still exists,” he said.
I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
He stood up first.
Then said, “Walk with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“To the gate,” he added, like it was obvious.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then why—”
He picked up his bag. “It’s already late.”
I hesitated.
Just a moment.
Then I stood too.
“Fine,” I said. “But this is the last time I’m agreeing to something without questioning it.”
He looked at me briefly.
Then said, “You always question.”
That made me pause.
Because he was right again.
We walked out together.
Side by side.
Not close.
Not far.
Just… there.
The campus was quieter in the evening. Less noise. Less chaos. More space to think.
Which was dangerous.
Because thinking too much meant noticing things I didn’t want to notice.
Like how he didn’t talk unnecessarily.
Like how he walked slightly ahead but slowed down without saying anything when I lagged behind.
Like how being beside him didn’t feel loud…
It felt steady.
Too steady.
At the gate, I stopped.
“This is where I go,” I said.
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a question.
I frowned slightly. “You’re very confident we’ll meet again.”
“We will,” he said.
I hesitated. “Because of the assignment.”
“Because of you showing up,” he corrected.
I opened my mouth—
Then stopped.
Because I didn’t have a response for that.
Instead, I said, “Goodnight, Amir.”
A pause.
Then he replied, “Goodnight, Amira.”
And just like that—
I walked away.
But halfway down the road, I realized something I didn’t want to admit.
I wasn’t thinking about the assignment anymore.
I was thinking about him.
And worse…
It didn’t feel like it was stopping anytime soon.
- Writer
