The lecture hall smelled like industrial disinfectant and misplaced dreams.
Rinon Xiu sat near the back, deliberately choosing a corner that promised invisibility. He preferred shadows to spotlight, silence to small talk. His hands were clasped too tightly in his lap, nails pressed crescent moons into his palm as the orientation leader chirped through another banal slide about "community spirit."
That was when she walked in.
Not like she owned the room,no, that would've been too obvious, too boring. Saafia Bin walked like she'd already torn it apart and was mildly amused to find it still standing. There was no fanfare. No performative smile. She carried her indifference like a blade, slicing through the tension in the air.
She didn't look at him. Not at first.
Her hair was pinned back like a crown she didn't care to wear. Her lips were the color of cruelty,dark, precise, a statement made only for herself. Her eyes swept the room like she was scanning for prey she hadn't yet decided to devour.
And then,he felt it.
The stare.
It landed on him like cold water down the spine. A pause too long. An assessment too intimate. Rinon met her gaze out of reflex, and instantly regretted it. Her look wasn't flirtation. It was fascination, tinted with something meaner. Like she'd found a secret no one else had noticed: *You don't belong here either.*
A smile tugged at her mouth, brief and mocking. Then she looked away.
That should have been it. It should have ended there. A look. A moment. Strangers, still.
But later, after the orientation, when everyone was busy exchanging numbers and laughter and cheap promises, Rinon slipped outside into the brittle autumn air. He leaned against the stone railing, letting the noise fade behind him like static.
"You blinked first," a voice said.
He didn't turn. He knew it was her. That voice wasn't meant for warmth,it was velvet laced with venom, soft only to make the sting last longer.
"You were staring," he replied without looking.
"Because you were boring."
"Then why are you here?"
That made her laugh. It sounded like breaking glass. "Because you blinked, and that means I won."
Finally, he looked at her. She was perched on the low wall beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to unnerve. Her shoes were expensive. Her posture said she had nothing to prove. And yet, she was here. Talking to *him*.
"You're not what they warned us about," she said. "You're worse."
"Excuse me?"
"That look on your face. You think silence is protection. But silence is a scream in slow motion. You reek of things you've buried."
He should have walked away.
Instead, he said, "You're insane."
Her smile grew. "Good. I was worried you might be dull."
There was a pause. The air between them felt sharp-edged, like something that had to be handled with gloves or not at all.
"My name's Rinon," he said, without knowing why.
"I know," she replied. "I looked you up."
His blood ran cold. "What?"
"I was bored," she said, stretching her arms like a cat. "Besides, you have a pretty name. It's the kind people ruin poems over."
"You don't know anything about me."
She tilted her head. "Not yet."
And then, she leaned in, just enough that he could feel her breath, and whispered, "But I will."
Rinon didn't move. He didn't need to. The damage was already done. A seed had been planted, not in the heart, but somewhere darker. Somewhere rot could grow.
Their eyes met again, and this time neither blinked.
That was the moment it began, not love, not even obsession.
Recognition.
Like two broken mirrors, finding in each other a reflection so fractured it finally made sense.