Chapter 7 : The Big Project
1500 Words
Zayn’s gaze—dark and cold—hadn’t wavered from Mika for the last thirty seconds. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t dramatic, but the words he spoke were enough to make Mika mutter something under his breath and walk away fast. The threat wasn’t shouted; it was simply… promised.
She blinked, still unsure what had just happened. But Zayn was already turning back to his food as if nothing had been said.
They ate in silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between them. She wanted to ask, to demand an explanation, but the unreadable expression on his face warned her to leave it.
When the lunch bell rang, they walked side by side toward the classrooms, neither speaking, but somehow aware of every step the other took.
By the time they entered the lecture hall, most of the seats were taken. She slipped into her usual spot—Roll No. 21—while Zayn dropped into the seat next to hers, Roll No. 22.
Professor Rahman’s voice cut through the restless whispers.
“This,” he began, writing Annual Research Project on the board, “is the biggest assessment of the year. One week. No extensions. You will work in pairs.”
A wave of murmurs filled the room. She felt her stomach twist; a week was nothing for something this big.
“Pairs will be assigned by roll numbers,” the professor continued. “Twenty-one and twenty-two… together.”
Her head snapped toward Zayn. He didn’t even glance at her, but there was a faint, almost smug curve at the corner of his lips.
The professor moved on to the list of topics, starting from the easiest and ending with the one everyone dreaded—Neurobehavioral Pharmacokinetics in Rare Disorders. It wasn’t just difficult; it was infamous for being impossible to finish in under a month.
“Any volunteers for the last topic?” the professor asked, almost smirking.
Silence. Chairs shifted, eyes avoided contact. Then, Zayn’s voice, calm and certain:
“We’ll take it.”
She whipped her head toward him, eyes wide.
“Are you insane?” she whispered.
His gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “We’ll manage.”
But she could tell from the flicker in his eyes—it wasn’t just about the challenge. He’d done it on purpose. To keep her close. For an entire week.
The library’s quiet corner was nothing like the cafeteria — no chatter, no eyes watching, just the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the weight of an impossible deadline hanging between them.
Zayn leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. “So,” he started, voice casual, “why is it that every time I look up, you’re there?”
She didn’t glance at him. “Coincidence,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the thick project guidelines in front of her.
He smirked. “Right… coincidence. Take off your hoodie.”
Her head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”
“I just want to see your face,” he said lightly. “What? You think you’re not beautiful or something?” His grin deepened when she glared. “Relax, it doesn’t matter to me. Face isn’t important.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice mock-seriously. “It’s the brain that counts.”
She stared at him, unblinking. The silence was sharp enough to cut.
“Okay, okay, fine. Focus on the project,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk still lingered.
She flipped through the pages. “We have seven days for something that would normally take three weeks. We need a plan.”
He leaned in, scanning the dense text. “We break it down. Today, research. Tomorrow, framework. Then—”
“We’ll need at least four hours every day,” she cut in, already scribbling a rough schedule.
“Four hours?” He grinned. “You’re underestimating me. We’ll do six.”
She shot him a look. “I have a life outside this project.”
“Good,” he said. “Cancel it.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips — the tiniest sign that she might, just might, not completely hate him.
And that was enough for Zayn to decide this impossible project was suddenly his favorite challenge yet.
From lunch break until the final bell, Zoe and Zayn sat across from each other, surrounded by notebooks, rough sketches, and open textbooks. They’d gone through every possibility of how to tackle the impossible project — timelines, resources, and what needed to be done first.
At one point, Zayn leaned back, smirking.
“So, four hours a day?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Six.”
Her brows shot up. “Six?!”
“Yep. You’re the topper, remember? You wouldn’t want to get a big fat zero — imagine the shame.” His grin deepened. “Besides, you have no choice.”
By the time the day ended, Zoe had reluctantly agreed. As they walked toward the gate, Zayn added casually,
“From tomorrow, tell your mother you’ll be late after university.”
She stopped, blinking at him. “What?”
“Obviously we have to work on this project after class too. At my place—”
Her eyes narrowed. “The university is a better choice.”
He shrugged, pretending to think. “We’ll see.”
Just then, Zayn turned to Ayaan. “Who’s your partner?”
Before Ayaan could answer, Lily bounced over. “Me! I’m with Ayaan now.”
Zoe looked confused. “Weren’t you with someone else?”
Lily nodded. “Yeah, but we asked to shuffle. We’re already friends, so we thought… why not? And since you two are together, we wanted to work near you. Our topic is also tough — we can’t finish it in just university hours.”
Zayn’s jaw tightened. “No. You guys have a different project. Work on it yourselves.”
Lily pouted. “Or… we all work together.”
Ayaan chuckled, glancing between Zayn and Zoe. “Bro, looks like this project is gonna be very difficult for you. What can I say?”
Zayn shot him a glare that promised trouble later.
Zoe’s home:
The day had drained her, but oddly enough, it didn’t feel heavy. She dropped her bag in the corner, washed up, and opened her diary.
Dear Diary,
Today was… different. Exhausting, yes. But for the first time in a long time, I felt a little lighter. I don’t know if it’s the project, or the fact that he’s impossible to ignore, or maybe… I’m just tired of running.
Closing her diary, Zoe lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind drifting back to Zayn’s teasing smirk and the mountain of work ahead. A smile tugged at her lips — small, reluctant, but real.
Zayn leaned back in his chair, a faint, almost mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze wasn’t fixed on anything in particular—just lost in thought.
Ayaan, who was busy flipping through some notes, raised an eyebrow.
“What happened? Why are you smiling like that?”
Zayn’s smirk deepened. “I told you, didn’t I? No matter what… I know she’s built walls around herself. High, stubborn, unshakable walls.” He tapped his fingers against the desk lightly. “But I’m going to break them. Let’s see how much she can ignore me. I promise you, Ayaan, those walls—” his eyes gleamed with quiet confidence— “will fall.”
Ayaan snorted. “You sound way too sure of yourself.”
Ayaan leaned back, studying him. “You make it sound simple, but it’s not. She’s not the kind of person you can win over with a smile and a few words. You’re going to have to work for it—really work. You might end up breaking yourself before you break those walls.”
“I know.” Zayn’s voice didn’t waver. “But I’m Zayn Alvi. Do you think if I want something, I’ll stop halfway? If I want to get through to her, I’ll find a way—step by step, piece by piece. First, I need to understand her, know why those walls exist in the first place. I want to know her story.”
Ayaan exhaled slowly. “Or… you could just let it go. Walk away before you get too deep.”
Zayn’s gaze hardened, his smile fading into something far more serious. “I can’t let it go. You know why? Because if my fear is right… if I’m connected to her past in a way I think I might be, then everything—everything—could be ruined. Not just for her, but for me. And if that happens…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “…it won’t just be ruined for now. It’ll be ruined for forever.”
- Writer
