The day had been brutal.

  Kay stood in the shower too long again—last one home, as usual. Her body ached, her eyes burned. The hospital had been chaotic, her senior was barking orders, and she’d barely eaten since noon. Her feet hurt from walking all day.

  She wrapped herself in the soft towel and walked out, hair dripping wet. Her room was just down the hall, so she moved fast. Except—

  He was there.

  Zayn.

  Coming from the opposite direction. Fresh from a workout, sweat still clinging to his neck and shirt. His black tee stretched tight over his chest.

  They both froze.

  Kay’s heart stopped.

  Zayn blinked, then looked away instantly. His jaw tightened. “Couldn’t put on clothes before walking out?”

  “It’s my house,” she snapped, tightening the towel. “And I didn’t expect you to be lurking like a ghost.”

  His eyes cut back to her, sharp. But there was something else there. Heat. Unwelcome. Unspoken.

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  “Next time, move faster.”

  She pushed past him, brushing his arm—barely. But the contact burned.

  He watched her door shut behind her.

  Later that night, Zayn heard soft sobs.

  He paused in the hallway. Kay’s room was dimly lit, the door half-shut. He could see her, sitting on her bed in a hoodie, knees drawn up, shoulders trembling.

  He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t ask.

  But he knocked, once.

  She looked up, startled. Then quickly wiped her face.

  “What?” she asked, voice small.

  “You good?”

  "I’m fine.”

  “You crying.”

  She laughed bitterly. “You really are observant.”

  He stepped in, leaned on the doorframe. “What happen?”

  She hesitated. Then, without looking at him: “ My Senior is just being mean to me...it's as if she just wants me to leave. I cannot take it!"

  Zayn said nothing.

  She sniffled. “And I just feel like I’m running in circles. Trying to be good enough. Trying to make something of myself, and I’m always... just a little too late. A little too me"

  Zayn’s voice was low, unreadable. “Nothing wrong with you.”

  She looked up sharply. “What?”

  He pushed off the doorframe. “You’re smart. Disciplined. You get up early, you work hard, and you don’t let people walk over you.”

  She stared at him like he’d spoken Greek.

  “You… notice that?”

  He exhaled, eyes flicking to hers. “Too much, apparently.”

  Silence fell.

  The tension in the room was sharp enough to slice.

  Kay looked down. “You still don’t like me though.”

  Zayn stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

  Her breath caught. She looked up—right into eyes that used to look through her. Now they looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

  Like she was slowly becoming his type.

  He stepped back. “Goodnight, Kay.”

  She sat frozen long after he left.