After that day, things began to change.
Not suddenly.
Not loudly.
But in quiet, almost invisible ways.
Hena still sat in the same seat every morning.
Still opened her notebook with the same careful precision.
Still avoided unnecessary conversations.
But now—
Arif sat beside her.
Not every day.
But often enough to become familiar.
Often enough to become expected.
He never forced her to talk.
Never asked questions she didn't want to answer.
He simply existed beside her.
Calm.
Patient.
Respectful.
And somehow, that made it harder to ignore him.
At first, their conversations were small.
Simple.
Safe.
"Did you understand today's lecture?"
"Yes."
"Can I see your notes?"
She would nod.
He would thank her.
And that was all.
But even those small exchanges felt dangerous.
Because Hena wasn't used to sharing her world.
She had spent years building walls around herself.
Walls made of discipline.
Walls made of fear.
Walls made of obedience.
And Arif never tried to break those walls.
He simply waited at the door.
As if hoping she might open it herself.
One afternoon, rain began suddenly.
Heavy.
Relentless.
Students rushed toward the exits, trying to escape before the campus flooded.
Hena stood under the corridor roof, watching the rain fall like silver threads from the sky.
She hadn't brought an umbrella.
She never did.
She always went straight home.
Always predictable.
Always prepared.
Except today.
She sighed quietly.
"How will I get home now?"
"Like this."
She turned.
Arif stood beside her.
Holding an umbrella.
Black.
Simple.
He looked at the rain.
Then at her.
"You can share mine," he said.
Her heart skipped.
"No," she replied quickly. "It's fine."
He didn't argue.
He didn't insist.
He simply nodded.
And stepped forward into the rain alone.
For a moment, she felt relief.
Distance restored.
Safety returned.
But then something unexpected happened.
He stopped.
Turned back.
He walked toward her again.
This time, he didn't offer the umbrella.
He placed it gently beside her.
On the bench.
"I live nearby," he said softly. "You don't."
Before she could react, he stepped back into the rain.
Without protection.
Without hesitation.
Within seconds, his clothes were soaked.
His hair clung to his forehead.
Still, he didn't turn back.
He didn't look at her.
He simply walked away.
Leaving the umbrella behind.
For her.
Hena stared at it.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Why would he do that?
Why would someone choose discomfort for her comfort?
She picked up the umbrella slowly.
Her fingers trembled.
For the first time in her life…
Someone had chosen her.
Not because they had to.
Not because they expected something in return.
But because they wanted to.
And that realization terrified her.
That night, she couldn't stop thinking about him.
About the way he walked away.
About the way he never demanded anything.
About the way he cared quietly.
Without pressure.
Without control.
Without fear.
Her heart didn't understand it.
But it felt it.
And feelings were dangerous.
Because feelings led to attachment.
And attachment led to loss.
She knew that.
She had always known that.
So she told herself she would stop it.
Before it grew.
Before it became something she couldn't survive.
But the next day—
He smiled at her again.
And she realized something painful.
She didn't want it to stop.