The next day didn't start badly.
That was the problem.
It started… quiet.
Too quiet.
Aira noticed it the moment she reached school. Reyhan wasn't at the gate. Wasn't leaning against the lockers. Wasn't pretending not to look for her.
He arrived ten minutes late instead, walking in alone, shoulders stiff, expression neutral.
Not distant.
Not cold.
Careful.
And that scared her more than chaos ever did.
Sia leaned over. "Okay. Something's off. He's in self-control mode."
Aira swallowed. "That's… not a thing."
"Oh it is," Sia said. "Boys only do that when they think they've already messed up."
That sentence sat heavy.
Reyhan took the seat beside Aira, but left a noticeable inch of space between them.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Intentional.
"You don't have to do that," Aira whispered.
He didn't look at her. "Do what?"
"Pull away," she said. "I didn't ask for distance."
Reyhan finally met her eyes.
"I know," he said quietly. "I'm just… trying not to hurt you."
Aira's chest tightened.
"That's not trust," she replied softly.
"That's guilt pretending to be care."
He flinched.
The teacher walked in before he could respond, but the words stayed between them, heavy and unresolved.
---
By lunch, the tension hadn't faded.
Reyhan carried her tray without asking, then immediately set it down and stepped back like he'd crossed a line.
Aira stared. "You're overthinking."
He shrugged. "Maybe."
"Definitely."
He gave a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Across the table, Zayden watched quietly.
Later, when Aira went to refill her water bottle, Reyhan followed—then stopped himself halfway.
That did it.
Aira turned around. "Reyhan."
He froze.
"Stop treating me like I'm fragile," she said calmly.
"I didn't choose you so you could walk on eggshells around me."
His jaw tightened. "You don't understand."
"Then explain," she said. "Don't decide for me."
Silence.
Then, quietly—
"I don't trust myself," Reyhan admitted.
"Every time things start feeling real, I get scared I'll ruin it."
Aira stepped closer.
"Then trust me," she said.
"To tell you when something hurts.
To tell you when I need space.
To stay even when it's uncomfortable."
He looked at her like that idea terrified him.
"And if I mess up?" he asked.
Aira didn't hesitate.
"Then we talk," she replied.
"Not disappear. Not pull away. Not rewrite everything in your head."
Reyhan exhaled slowly.
"You don't give easy exits," he murmured.
"No," Aira said.
"Because I don't want an exit. I want honesty."
That broke something in him.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
Reyhan nodded once.
"Okay," he said. "I'll stop assuming the worst."
Aira smiled faintly.
"And I'll stop pretending I don't notice when you're trying too hard."
They walked back together.
This time, when his shoulder brushed hers—
He didn't pull away.
And she didn't either.
RULE #36: Don't let guilt replace trust.
Because caring doesn't mean shrinking yourself—
it means staying when things feel uncertain.