Selima leaned casually against the cold lockers, her gaze drifting over the flowing tide of students still shuffling through the hallways. Despite the rush around her, her thoughts remained fixed on one figure—Mehanda.
Then she noticed the girl near the south exit, shoulders hunched, and it immediately struck her how slowly Mehanda was walking— each step heavy, as if weighed down by sleepless nights and a mind that refused to rest.
Selima watched her for a moment longer, debating whether to approach or wait. But instinct told her to act now. Without a sound, she slipped from her spot and moved smoothly to close the distance, falling into step beside Mehanda. The silence between them was almost oppressive.
“Pub?”
Selima’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, void of its usual teasing ton
