You found her on the school rooftop again. Same time. Same sky. But this time… she didn’t look like she was waiting.

She stood with her back to you, gripping the railing like the wind might carry her away if she let go. You approached slowly, quietly, like any wrong step might shatter the moment.

—“Asa?” you called gently.

She didn’t turn around.

—“I told you not to follow me,” she said, voice hollow.

You stopped a few feet away, heart uneasy.

—“You didn’t mean that.”

—“Yes,” she said sharply. “I did.”

Finally, she looked at you—and her expression made your breath catch. Pain. Guilt. Something heavy in her eyes, like she was already mourning something she hadn’t lost yet.

—“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, backing away, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what I am.”

You stepped closer.

—“Then tell me.”

—“No.” Her voice was sharp now. “You think you want to know. You think this… whatever’s happening between us is something real. But it’s not. It can’t be.”

You searched her face.

—“Why not?”

She looked down, jaw trembling.

—“Because everyone I care about ends up broken,” she whispered. “Used. Hurt. Gone.”

Then, softer—almost like she was pleading with herself:

—“You’re kind. You trust too easily. And I— I’m not safe.”

You reached out, and for a second, she didn’t flinch. But then she took a step back, her voice barely holding together.

—“You’ll end up ruined,” she said. “Because I ruin everything I touch.”