Episode 2: WORDS WE NEVER SAY
1558 Words
I didn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the hallway again — Zayn’s face, the guilt in his eyes, the way his voice lowered when he asked me not to look at him like that.
Like what?
Like I mattered?
My phone lay beside me, face down on the bed. I didn’t need to check it to know there were no messages. There never were when I needed them most.
I turned onto my side and stared at the wall, counting the cracks like they could distract me from the ache sitting heavy in my chest.
Why was silence always my responsibility?
---
The next morning came too quickly.
I moved through my routine like a ghost — brushing my teeth, tying my scarf, packing my bag — while my mind replayed memories I had never allowed myself to question before.
The way Zayn only called me when he was alone.
The way he never used my name in public.
The way he always said, “Just be patient.”
Patience had become my excuse for pain.
---
At school, the noise felt louder than usual.
Laughter echoed down the corridors. Lockers slammed. Footsteps rushed past me. Everyone seemed so sure of where they were going.
I wasn’t.
Hauwa spotted me before I reached my class and walked beside me without speaking. That was her way.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said eventually.
“I’m fine.”
She stopped walking.
“Aaliyah,” she said gently, “you need to stop lying to me. I’m not one of the people you have to protect.”
I swallowed.
“I saw him,” I admitted. “With Amara.”
Hauwa’s jaw tightened.
“Again?”
I nodded.
“That’s worse,” she said. “Because it means he knows — and he’s choosing it.”
Her words stayed with me.
---
Zayn didn’t come to class early that day.
The empty seat behind me felt louder than it should have. Halfway through the lesson, the door opened.
He walked in quietly.
When he saw me, he hesitated — just for a second — before sitting down.
He didn’t say good morning.
That hurt more than I expected.
---
When the bell rang, I stood quickly.
“Aaliyah.”
My name.
Out loud.
I froze.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Please.”
---
We stood at the back of the building, away from the noise.
“You didn’t reply to my message last night,” he said.
“I didn’t get one.”
He looked at my phone and sighed.
“I typed it… I didn’t send it.”
Of course.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I hurt you.”
“You walked away with her,” I replied.
He flinched.
“I just panicked.”
“You always panic when it’s time to choose.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
He was quiet.
“I care about you,” he said finally.
“I know,” I replied softly. “Just not loudly.”
---
Later that afternoon, my phone buzzed.
Zayn: Are you mad at me?
Me: I’m tired.
Zayn: I don’t want to lose you.
Me: Then stop hiding me.
No reply.
---
The whispers started the next day.
At lunch, Zayn sat with Amara. Not beside her.
In front of her.
Hauwa slammed her tray down.
“You’re protecting him again.”
Maybe I was.
Or maybe I was protecting the part of me that still hoped.
---
That evening, Zayn called.
“Can I come over?” he asked.
When he arrived, we sat on the steps in silence.
“Amara doesn’t mean anything,” he said.
“She means enough,” I replied.
“Do you know what it feels like to love someone who only wants you in the dark?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
---
That night, I stopped waiting.
I didn’t text first.
I didn’t look for him.
I didn’t sit where he could find me.
And for the first time —
I felt relief.
---
Three days later, he found me.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m choosing myself.”
“I love you,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Do you love me loudly?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
End of Episode Two
When someone finally says “I love you” but still can’t choose you… is walking away an act of strength or fear?
Read out for episode 3 and don't forget to like, comment and follow for more interesting stories
I didn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the hallway again — Zayn’s face, the guilt in his eyes, the way his voice lowered when he asked me not to look at him like that.
Like what?
Like I mattered?
My phone lay beside me, face down on the bed. I didn’t need to check it to know there were no messages. There never were when I needed them most.
I turned onto my side and stared at the wall, counting the cracks like they could distract me from the ache sitting heavy in my chest.
Why was silence always my responsibility?
---
The next morning came too quickly.
I moved through my routine like a ghost — brushing my teeth, tying my scarf, packing my bag — while my mind replayed memories I had never allowed myself to question before.
The way Zayn only called me when he was alone.
The way he never used my name in public.
The way he always said, “Just be patient.”
Patience had become my excuse for pain.
---
At school, the noise felt louder than usual.
Laughter echoed down the corridors. Lockers slammed. Footsteps rushed past me. Everyone seemed so sure of where they were going.
I wasn’t.
Hauwa spotted me before I reached my class and walked beside me without speaking. That was her way.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said eventually.
“I’m fine.”
She stopped walking.
“Aaliyah,” she said gently, “you need to stop lying to me. I’m not one of the people you have to protect.”
I swallowed.
“I saw him,” I admitted. “With Amara.”
Hauwa’s jaw tightened.
“Again?”
I nodded.
“That’s worse,” she said. “Because it means he knows — and he’s choosing it.”
Her words stayed with me.
---
Zayn didn’t come to class early that day.
The empty seat behind me felt louder than it should have. Halfway through the lesson, the door opened.
He walked in quietly.
When he saw me, he hesitated — just for a second — before sitting down.
He didn’t say good morning.
That hurt more than I expected.
---
When the bell rang, I stood quickly.
“Aaliyah.”
My name.
Out loud.
I froze.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Please.”
---
We stood at the back of the building, away from the noise.
“You didn’t reply to my message last night,” he said.
“I didn’t get one.”
He looked at my phone and sighed.
“I typed it… I didn’t send it.”
Of course.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I hurt you.”
“You walked away with her,” I replied.
He flinched.
“I just panicked.”
“You always panic when it’s time to choose.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
He was quiet.
“I care about you,” he said finally.
“I know,” I replied softly. “Just not loudly.”
---
Later that afternoon, my phone buzzed.
Zayn: Are you mad at me?
Me: I’m tired.
Zayn: I don’t want to lose you.
Me: Then stop hiding me.
No reply.
---
The whispers started the next day.
At lunch, Zayn sat with Amara. Not beside her.
In front of her.
Hauwa slammed her tray down.
“You’re protecting him again.”
Maybe I was.
Or maybe I was protecting the part of me that still hoped.
---
That evening, Zayn called.
“Can I come over?” he asked.
When he arrived, we sat on the steps in silence.
“Amara doesn’t mean anything,” he said.
“She means enough,” I replied.
“Do you know what it feels like to love someone who only wants you in the dark?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
---
That night, I stopped waiting.
I didn’t text first.
I didn’t look for him.
I didn’t sit where he could find me.
And for the first time —
I felt relief.
---
Three days later, he found me.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m choosing myself.”
“I love you,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Do you love me loudly?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
End of Episode Two
When someone finally says “I love you” but still can’t choose you… is walking away an act of strength or fear?
Read out for episode 3 and don't forget to like, comment and follow for more interesting stories
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