When You Called Me Yours

Aira's POV:

The library smelled like old paper and burnt coffee exactly how Aira expected her second home to smell.

She sat hunched over her laptop, fingers flying over the keys, case briefs and outlines piling up around her like little islands. Her neck ached. Her eyes burned.
She didn't stop.

She couldn't afford to.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could still hear her father's voice: 

"Harvard Law, Aira. That's the standard. Anything less..."

He hadn't needed to finish.
She knew what he meant.

She hadn't made it.
Not to Harvard. Not to Yale.
She was here at a good school, sure but not the one they told everyone she would get into.

Aira clenched her jaw and focused harder on her screen.

Maybe if she graduated top of her class here. Maybe if she got the right internship, the right clerkship.
Maybe then they'd see her.
Maybe then they'd finally be proud again.

Her phone buzzed in her bag.

She ignored it at first. Probably another reminder about the law symposium or study group.
Deadlines. Responsibilities. Things that mattered.

She pushed through another paragraph before finally giving in and pulling out her phone.

Kian:
"Hey. Any food allergies? Figuring out dinner places. No pressure."

She stared at the screen.

For a second, she considered ignoring it.
Or worse making up some excuse and canceling altogether.
Wasn't that easier? Wasn't that safer?

At home, no one ever asked her if she liked something.
Birthday dinners were planned around her brother's favorite foods, not hers. Vacations were places he wanted to go.
It was never about what Aira liked.
It was about what was expected of her.

She'd gotten so used to being an afterthought that she didn't even know what to do when someone... asked.

Food allergies.
Such a stupid, simple thing.

And yet it made her throat tighten unexpectedly.

Her thumbs hovered over the screen.

Don't make this a big deal, she told herself.
It's just dinner.
It's not like he cares.

Still, something small and stubborn inside her — something that hadn't quite died yet — wanted to answer.

Aira:
"No allergies. I like anything. :)"

She hit send before she could overthink it.
Then shoved the phone back into her bag and forced herself to keep studying.

But for the first time in a long time, her chest felt a little lighter.

Just a little.

Kian's POV

Kian tapped his pen against the table, staring at the message thread on his phone.

He had half-expected her not to reply.
Maybe he deserved that she barely knew him. He was just some guy who crashed into her day, ruined her notebook, broke his own lens, and now, awkwardly, was asking her to dinner.

Smooth.

He watched the little "typing..." bubble blink into life, disappear, then come back again.

When her message finally arrived

"I'm good with anything. No allergies."
 he couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face.

Maybe she didn't hate him after all.

He quickly thumbed a reply:

"Cool. Friday? 7? I know a place not fancy, promise :)"

The plain smiley felt better than some shiny emoji. Less pressure. More... real.

Aarav, walking by, caught sight of Kian's expression and stopped mid-step, eyebrows shooting up.

"You good, loverboy?" Aarav teased, nudging him with his foot.

Kian shot him a look. "Shut up."

But Aarav was already grinning like a maniac.
"Who's the unlucky girl?"

Kian threw a crumpled paper ball at him. "Mind your business, idiot."

Aarav caught it easily, laughing.
"Bro, you're blushing. Holy crap. Kian 'Iceface' is blushing. I need to document this—"

Before Aarav could pull out his phone, Kian lunged at him. Aarav yelped and took off down the hallway, Kian chasing after him, both of them laughing like idiots.

For a moment, it felt like being kids again.
Simple. Easy. Happy.

Kian Diary Entry

Wouldn't trade this idiot for the world.