Warda never expected to spend so much time with Maleek. He wasn’t the kind of man who actively sought company, yet somehow, she found herself lingering around him more than she should. It wasn’t intentional. At first, it was just curiosity—the way he seemed unaffected by everything, his cool detachment, the way emotions barely touched his face. He never seemed to get angry or excited, never let anything faze him. It was almost like he wasn’t human.
And maybe that’s what drew her in.
It started with the small things. Warda and Maleek shared mutual friends, so they ended up in the same spaces often. But while everyone else chattered and laughed, Maleek would just sit there, his gaze distant, as if he were watching a different world unfold. She tried talking to him once at a café, asking something trivial about his coffee preference. He had merely shrugged and answered, “Doesn’t matter. It all tastes the same after a while.”
That should have been a sign to leave him be. But she didn’t.
Instead, Warda found herself drawn to the puzzle that was Maleek. She started sitting beside him at group gatherings, speaking into the quiet spaces he left. And though he never reacted the way most people would, he never walked away either. That had to mean something, right?
Her friends noticed. Zainab, always perceptive, nudged her one evening as they left Maleek behind after a late-night study session. “You’re spending a lot of time with him,” she teased.
Warda rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing.” But was it?
It became a habit—hanging out with Maleek even when she had no real reason to. She told herself it was because she found his presence peaceful, that his nonchalance made everything else feel less overwhelming. And maybe that was partially true. But deep down, something else was stirring.
And then came the other women.
Maleek had always been around girls, but it was never in a way that suggested he was interested in any of them. Yet, that didn’t stop them from being interested in him. Hana, one of the more outgoing members of their friend group, often leaned too close when she spoke to him, laughing at things he didn’t seem to find funny. Mariam had a habit of touching his arm when she asked questions, lingering just a little too long.
And Maleek… he didn’t react. He never pulled away, never leaned in. He remained as neutral as ever, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. It shouldn’t have bothered Warda.
But it did.
She told herself she wasn’t jealous. Maleek wasn’t hers. He wasn’t anyone’s. And yet, every time she saw another girl vying for his attention, something in her stomach twisted.
One evening, as they walked home from a group dinner, she asked, “Do you ever get tired of them?”
“Of who?” he replied without looking at her.
“Hana. Mariam. The ones who act like you’re some kind of puzzle to be solved.”
There was a pause. Then, “You do that too.”
Warda stopped walking. He took a few steps before realizing and turning back. The streetlamp above them cast shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. Was he calling her out? Did he see her as just another girl fascinated by his mystery?
“You ask me things no one else does,” he continued, voice as even as ever. “You look at me like you’re trying to figure out why I am the way I am.”
“Because I care,” the words slipped out before she could stop them.
Maleek blinked, as if the concept itself was foreign to him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge the weight behind her words. Instead, he turned and kept walking.
And Warda followed, pretending her heart wasn’t racing.
She knew then. Knew that she had fallen for him. That despite his lack of emotion, his detachment, she wanted him to see her—to feel something for her the way she felt for him.
But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
Days passed, and she didn’t bring it up again. Neither did he. If anything, things remained exactly the same between them, as if that night had never happened. It was infuriating. How could he just move on, unaffected, while she was left drowning in emotions he would never reciprocate?
Her friends noticed her silence. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Zainab commented one day as they sat in a café.
“Maybe I have,” Warda murmured.
She considered telling them. Maybe they’d give her advice, tell her to let it go before she lost herself in a love that would never be returned. But she couldn’t. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and she wasn’t ready for that.
One evening, as she walked home alone, her phone buzzed. A message from Maleek.
“Are you avoiding me?” Her breath caught. He noticed?
She hesitated before typing back. “No. Just busy.” Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared. Finally, another message: “Good.” That was it. Just ‘good.’ No questions, no concern. Just a simple acknowledgment that she was still there, still in his orbit.
Warda stared at the screen for a long time before locking her phone. He would never understand, would he? And yet, she couldn’t walk away. Even if it hurt, even if he would never love her back the way she wanted, she would stay. Because she didn’t know how to let go.
And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t either.
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