As usual, their journey was filled with silence.
On campus, Naira had already decided to avoid Shaka as soon as she got off the motorcycle. But before she could run, Shaka's hand clamped around her wrist.
"I want to talk to you this afternoon," he said firmly.
Naira frowned. "About what?"
"Don't ask so many questions. There's something I need to tell you."
Naira wanted to argue, but Shaka's stare was too sharp. In the end, she only sighed. "Whatever."
Naira left Shaka, who remained sitting silently on his motorcycle.
That afternoon, they stood in the park behind campus. It was a quiet place filled only with the sound of the wind and the trickling fountain.
Shaka stared at Naira for a long time before finally speaking.
"I love you."
There was no small talk. No hesitation. Just a short sentence that came out without a second thought.
Naira looked at him, her expression still blank. As if she hadn't been affected in the slightest.
"And I don't."
Shaka fell silent. His eyes sharpened, and his jaw tightened.
"You're lying," he murmured.
Naira exhaled. "I'm not lying about anything. We're just friends, Shaka. That's all."
Naira said nothing.
Shaka stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them. His voice was low and sharp.
"You're not rejecting me. You're just afraid to accept it."
Naira didn't move. Her eyes were empty, devoid of emotion.
"If I'm really afraid, that's my problem," she replied coldly. "And you don't need to force something that isn't there."
Shaka stared at her for a long time, as if trying to read something in her eyes. But in the end, he only nodded slowly.
"Fine. If that's what you want. But remember this. I'm not giving up that easily."
Then he turned and left Naira without another word.
For the first time, as she watched Shaka's back recede, something inside Naira's chest felt empty.
Five months passed.
The tour bus carrying them stopped in a remote village, far from the city's hustle and bustle. Night had fallen, and only moonlight and a few oil lamps outside the villagers' homes illuminated the rocky path.
Naira got off first, stretching her body after the long journey. Her eyes swept over the village that would be their home for the next month.
"It's so quiet," she murmured.
Shaka got off behind her, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Good. Now you can't run anywhere."
Naira shot him a sharp look. "Who said I was trying to run?"
Shaka only snorted and didn't answer. They followed the other students to the villagers' homes where each of them would be staying.
That night, after all the community service participants had finished unpacking and introducing themselves to the locals, Naira finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief on the porch of the wooden house where she was staying. A cold wind swept across her skin, carrying the distinctive smell of wet earth.
But the peace didn't last long.
From a distance, she heard footsteps approaching. Naira turned and saw a man standing at the end of the road, swallowed by the shadows of night. He was tall, and his face was difficult to make out in the dim light.
But when the man stepped closer, his deep voice rang out.
"Agatha."
Her heart sank.
She recognized that voice.
He shouldn't be here.
Naira instinctively stepped backward, but before she could move any farther, a strong hand clamped around her arm from the side.
Arshaka.
His eyes were fixed sharply on the man, his jaw tight.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was cold and full of menace.