"Hey, kelinci"

A familiar voice broke the silence of the school library. There was hardly anyone else there but you, busting yourself in one of your fantasy novels at the back corner of the space.

"Whatcha doin', huh?"

You looked up at your senior, grinning.

"Cooking. Can't you tell?"

You giggled, your sarcastic remark earning an amused eye roll from him. Kudrat had only just begun allowing female students — but only from the families of current students or alumni, and only if they were bright enough to earn a place. You were one of the few who did. You were closer to Fakhri than to Naim, though you bore no resentment toward either of them, even if their strained relationship often left you caught in between. You lived with Fakhri and his father, but visited Naim whenever you could.

You found comfort in Kahar’s company, even if your brothers were wary of him — especially Fakhri, whose protectiveness sometimes bordered on possessive. He’d warn you that Kahar wasn’t what he seemed, that behind his calm smile was someone dangerous. But you never saw danger in him. You had never gone down to witness the Manifesto battles — the shouts, the bruises, the violence — and so to you, Kahar was only ever gentle. There was something about the way he spoke, the quiet warmth in his eyes, that made you forget every rumor whispered about him.

You smiled at him, voice light, shifting a little closer as you spoke. "Don’t you have lunch now? You don’t want to eat?"

“Nah, ku tak lapar pun.” He shrugged, grinning down at you.

Okay, maybe he was a little hungry — but not for food. It was easier to ignore the growl in his stomach than the pull he felt every time you looked at him like that. In that moment, all he wanted was this — the stolen calm between classes, your laughter, the nearness of you. His quiet, beautiful distraction.