The thing about almost-love was that it didn't protect you.
It didn't soften the blows.
It didn't pause the world.
It just made everything feel sharper.
Aira realized that on Monday morning when she walked into school already tired—and saw Reyhan laughing with someone else.
Again.
Not flirtatious.
Not inappropriate.
Just… careless.
And that hurt more than jealousy ever had.
She slowed her steps without meaning to.
You said you wouldn't spiral, she reminded herself.
You said you wouldn't assume.
But emotions didn't listen to rules.
Reyhan spotted her a second later.
His smile faded—subtly, instantly.
He stepped away from the group and walked toward her.
"Hey," he said. "You're early."
"So are you," Aira replied.
Her tone was neutral.
Too neutral.
Reyhan noticed.
Of course he did.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she said.
Lie.
He frowned. "That didn't sound—"
"I said I'm okay," she repeated, sharper this time.
That was new.
Reyhan hesitated.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know," Aira cut in.
"And that's the problem."
They walked inside without another word.
The silence between them felt different today.
Not calm.
Tense.
---
By lunch, the weight hadn't lifted.
Reyhan tried—soft jokes, small smiles—but Aira didn't meet him halfway.
She wasn't being cruel.
She was being defensive.
And that scared her.
They sat at the table, Sia talking nervously to fill the gap.
Finally, Reyhan leaned closer and whispered,
"Did I do something wrong?"
Aira exhaled sharply.
"Why does it always have to be about wrong?"
He leaned back, surprised. "Then what is it about?"
"About how easy it is for you to forget that I'm standing right there," she said quietly.
Reyhan blinked.
"I wasn't ignoring you."
"I know," she said.
"But I still felt invisible."
That hurt him.
She saw it.
And immediately regretted the tone—but not the truth.
"I don't want us to start hurting each other just because we don't know how to say things right," Reyhan said softly.
"Neither do I," Aira replied.
"So don't make me swallow things just to keep the peace."
They stood up at the same time.
Students glanced over.
Reyhan lowered his voice.
"Then talk to me. Don't shut down."
Aira grabbed her bag.
"I need space," she said.
Not cruel.
Not dramatic.
Just honest.
Reyhan nodded slowly.
"Okay," he said.
"But don't walk away angry."
She paused.
Turned back just enough to meet his eyes.
"I'm not walking away from you," she said.
"I'm walking away from saying something I'll regret."
That mattered.
Reyhan exhaled.
"Then come back when you're ready," he said quietly.
Aira nodded.
She walked away with her chest tight and her thoughts loud—but not exploding.
Not yet.
Because this wasn't a breakup.
This was the first real test.
RULE #51: Don't walk away angry.
Because silence born from restraint
is better than words born from regret.