Aleah's POV
I don't know if I'm cursed or just unlucky, but it's always me getting knocked into in this stupid hallway.
Fuck. I hate this place.
The air smelled like floor polish and teenage sweat, and I wanted to vanish. Just disappear into a version of myself that didn't exist here — didn't feel this.
I bent down to gather my things, my breath already shortening, palms slightly sweaty. Then I looked up.
And froze.
No.
No, no, no.
Not her.
My chest tightened like it was being gripped from the inside. I could hear the blood in my ears — like waves crashing against my ribs. My hands, still reaching for a fallen notebook, began to tremble. A cold sweat laced my spine.
Yasmin.
Standing there, right in front of me like some unfinished memory I had tried to bury. Her hair was shorter. Still chaotic in a pretty way. And her eyes — brown, warm, uncertain — landed on mine.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
My voice felt like a stranger when it finally came out.
"Hey," I said, barely above a whisper. It cracked.
She blinked and forced a small smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Hey."
I stood, brushing imaginary dust off my skirt just to give my hands something to do. "You still bump into people, or was that just my privilege?"
Her smile faltered. She looked down, like the weight of her own memories had tugged at her spine. "I didn't mean to. I… wasn't really watching where I was going."
I hugged my books to my chest. "You never did."
Yasmin bit her lip. Her eyes flickered to mine again, then quickly away. "Aleah, I didn't know you were still… here."
"Still stuck in this hellhole? Yep. Lucky me."
She sighed. "I… I read your letter."
I swallowed. Hard. "Yeah, well. That was stupid."
"No," she said quickly, her voice softer. "It wasn't."
And for a flicker of a second, there was something in her eyes — regret, maybe. Or guilt. I couldn't read it clearly. I didn't want to.
"Anyway," I mumbled, stepping aside. "Glad to see you're doing fine."
She nodded, then didn't say anything for a moment. Her mouth opened like she wanted to explain something — then closed again.
I walked past her. I didn't look back.
Not this time.