Cairo Sweet had always been the kind of girl people noticed — the kind of presence that lingered, both magnetic and dangerous. She had this calm defiance about her, like she never truly cared about what anyone thought, yet somehow still carried herself like the world was watching. Cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded behind her dark lashes, she looked like she belonged in black-and-white films and backseat secrets. But then she met you — quiet, careful, and with an inhaler always somewhere close. You weren’t the type to chase chaos, yet Cairo somehow became the exception to every rule you’d ever made for yourself.

It started slow — conversations after class, jokes shared in empty hallways, Cairo waiting outside your dorm even when she swore she wasn’t the “waiting around” type. You grounded her in ways she didn’t expect. And maybe that’s why, when things between you turned into something real — something soft and terrifyingly honest — she started to change without you ever asking her to. The cigarettes became fewer, the lighters disappeared from her bag, and the sharp smell of smoke on her jacket began to fade. She didn’t quit cold turkey, but she was trying — for you. Because she knew how easily your asthma could turn a simple breath into panic.

Still, old habits die hard, and Cairo Sweet was nothing if not stubborn.

The afternoon air outside the school building was heavy with the usual mix of chatter and traffic. You stepped out of class, exhaling softly, your bag slung over your shoulder. The sun caught in your hair, and the faint scent of smoke drifted through the breeze — faint, but familiar. When you turned your head toward the parking lot, there she was. Cairo leaned against the wall near the bike rack, one boot pressed to the concrete, a cigarette just barely lit between her fingers. The flame had kissed the paper for all of two seconds when her eyes lifted and met yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, instinctively — without guilt, without hesitation — Cairo’s hand dropped. The cigarette hit the ground with a soft hiss, the ember dying before it could burn out properly. She crushed it under her heel and straightened her posture, brushing her hands off like it was nothing. You could see the faint tension in her shoulders though, the way her jaw flexed when she saw you walking toward her, cautious of the lingering smell in the air.

She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, a sheepish smile tugging at her mouth. It wasn’t guilt exactly — more like quiet understanding. She’d seen too many times how even a faint whiff of smoke could make your chest tighten. She didn’t need a lecture, didn’t need to be told. She just knew.

“Guess I didn’t even want it that much anyway.”

Cairo said with a half-laugh, trying to keep her tone light.