Heart Behind The Silence

His lips were so close, she could taste the heat in his breath. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, eyes locked on hers. She didn't. She couldn't. Her body leaned forward on instinct-every inch of her aching to be wanted, to be touched, to finally feel like she mattered. But just before his lips met hers, everything in her froze. The warmth vanished. The memory returned. And she pulled away like she'd been burned. *** Benny sat up in bed, heart pounding, the dream still clinging to her skin like sweat. Another one. It was always the same: Zayn's touch, her panic, the ghost of hands that weren't his. She dragged her fingers through her braids and sighed. Just a dream. But it still left her shaken, restless, craving something she didn't know how to name. Outside her bedroom window, the sun had barely risen. Another school day. Another day of pretending she was fine. Pretending she didn't want love, didn't notice the way Zayn's smile made her stomach flip. Another day of being invisible in a body that didn't fit what anyone wanted. But at least, online, she got to be someone else. The girl with all the answers. The fake confidence. The perfect relationship advice. The girl who definitely-*definitely*-didn't catch feelings. *** School was the same blur it always was. Benny walked through the halls like a shadow. People brushed past her, looked through her, never quite seeing her. Her voice rarely left her lips unless she was in class or with Nicole. Nicole-her best friend, her anchor, her walking no-romance zone. "Did you see that video I sent?" Nicole asked as they sat at their usual lunch table. "The sheikh said girls our age should focus on our future, not feelings." Benny smiled tightly and nodded. It wasn't that she didn't respect Nicole. She did. A lot. But being around her sometimes felt like walking on a tightrope. One wrong word-one *I think I like someone*-and Nicole would shut down completely. Especially if the someone was Zayn. Zayn, with the messy hair and quiet charm. Zayn, who had smiled at Benny three days ago like she was real. Like she existed. Like he saw her. "Have you ever liked someone?" Benny asked, almost too softly. Nicole blinked, mid-chew. "Like how?" "Like... wanted to be around them all the time. Even if you barely talked." Nicole wiped her mouth. "That's not love. That's distraction." Benny dropped her gaze. "Yeah. Just asking." Of course it was distraction. Of course it didn't matter. But that didn't stop her from noticing the way Zayn's hoodie hugged his shoulders that morning. Or how he tapped his pen during Chemistry like it had its own beat. Or the way he'd looked at her that one time and said- "Nice earrings." Just that. But it stayed with her all week. At home, her phone buzzed with another message: > "Hey Benny, can you help me? I think he's cheating..." Of course he was. They always were. Benny typed out a calm, clinical response, gave the girl steps to follow, signs to look for, advice to hold onto. That was her role. The coach. The guide. The girl who didn't catch feelings. ******** Benny was minding her business. Really, she was. She had her AirPods in, hoodie up, eyes on her barely eaten sandwich. She wasn't looking for anyone—*especially* not Zayn. So of course, fate decided to mess with her. “Partner up with someone seated next to you,” Mr. Adeyemi said, waving a hand like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on the class. “You'll be working on this poetry analysis together all week. Same partners until Friday.” Benny’s brain did a double take. Wait. What? She slowly turned her head—and her breath caught. Zayn. One seat over. Looking at her. “I guess that’s us?” he said, that crooked smile tugging at his mouth. Benny nodded, too fast. “Yeah. Sure. I mean—yeah.” Zayn chuckled low under his breath, and the sound of it wrapped around her like warm syrup. “Cool,” he said. “I’ve never been good at poetry. Hope you’re not too strict.” “Not strict,” she muttered, pulling out her notebook. “Just focused.” He leaned a little closer. “That sounds like code for strict.” Benny bit back a smile. She hated how easily he got to her. They started reading the assigned poem—something about heartbreak and metaphors and aching chests—and Benny could feel his eyes on her even when she wasn't looking. She tried to ignore it, focusing on underlining stanzas and pretending her stomach wasn’t flipping like a gymnast. “So… do you like this poem?” Zayn asked. Benny shrugged. “It’s okay.” “I think it’s sad. Like someone’s trying to say everything they couldn’t in real life.” She looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice. He wasn’t being funny or sarcastic. He sounded... genuine. “You think poetry’s about what you *can’t* say out loud?” He nodded. “Sometimes silence says more than words ever could.” Benny blinked. Something about that hit her too hard. Because silence was all she’d ever had. “Zayn,” Mr. Adeyemi barked from across the room, “face your partner, not her soul.” The class laughed. Zayn turned red and looked away. Benny didn’t laugh. She just stared at the paper, heart pounding. *** Later that day, Benny opened her chat app and saw three messages waiting for her. > *“Benny, how do you know if a guy’s flirting or just being nice?”* > *“I think I’m falling for someone I shouldn’t.”* > *“You ever had a crush on a guy you know you can’t have?”* She stared at that last message longer than she meant to. If only they knew. Because yeah—she had. Every day. In the desk beside hers. With sleepy eyes and poetry lines and a smile that made her want to forget everything she'd ever been afraid of. But she couldn’t. Because people like her didn’t get to have feelings. And if she did? She definitely didn’t act on them. That was the rule. And Benny was really, really good at rules. Most days *****