When we first met (A Zatima Story)

The Truth

Fatima sat at the edge of the field, watching the football team finish up their practice. She had been keeping her distance from Zac over the past week, deliberately pulling back whenever he approached. The conversations had become shorter, less frequent, and she avoided their usual banter. It wasn't because she wanted to, but Maya had made her feelings about their friendship crystal clear, and Fatima wasn't trying to stir the pot any more than it already had been.

Zac noticed the shift almost immediately. He wasn't used to the cold shoulder from Fatima, and it didn't sit right with him. After practice, he approached her as she was packing up her bag, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

"Hey, Fatima," Zac said, walking up to her.

Fatima glanced up briefly, forcing a smile. "Hey."

Zac crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "How come you haven't been talking to me as much?"

"No reason," she replied, her tone light but distant.

Zac wasn't buying it. "Fatima, you've been real short with your answers lately. What's going on?"

"They haven't been short," she shot back defensively, but her eyes darted away.

Zac raised an eyebrow. "That was a short answer right there. Something's up. Just tell me what it is."

Fatima sighed, avoiding his gaze. "It's nothing, Zac."

Zac stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Fatima, I know when you're lying. What's going on? You can talk to me."

Fatima's shoulders tensed, and after a long pause, she finally blurted out, "It's your girlfriend, Maya."

Zac blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, it's Maya?"

Fatima shook her head, clearly frustrated. "She told me to stay away from you. And trust me, I was this close to reading her for filth, but I'm trying not to go back to my old ways."

Zac frowned. "I'll talk to her about it, but what do you mean, your old ways?"

Fatima waved him off, clearly done with the conversation. "Don't worry about it. And don't talk to her about it either. It's nothing you need to know, Zac. You know what, never mind. I'll see you later."

"Fatima, wait—"

But she was already walking away, calling over her shoulder, "Bye, Zac."

Zac stood there, staring after her, feeling a surge of frustration. He hadn't intended for things to get so messy. He never wanted Fatima to feel uncomfortable because of Maya, but now it was clear things had gone further than he realized. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off, and Maya was right at the center of it.

Later that day, after practice, Zac headed straight to Maya's house. His mind was racing, torn between anger and confusion. He cared about Maya—he always had—but this wasn't the first time she'd acted this way. She had a history of jealousy, but he thought they had worked past it.

Maya opened the door with a bright smile, completely unaware of the storm brewing in Zac's mind. "Hey, baby," she greeted, leaning in for a kiss.

Zac barely acknowledged it, his face serious. "Hey. I have a question."

Maya's smile faltered slightly. "Okay... what is it?"

"Why did you tell Fatima to stay away from me?"

Maya blinked, clearly not expecting that. "What do you mean, baby?"

Zac crossed his arms, his tone firm. "You know exactly what I mean, Maya. Why did you tell her to leave me alone?"

Maya's expression darkened. "I feel like you two were getting too close. She's always around you, always laughing and talking with you, and I don't like it."

Zac sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maya, I've told you a hundred times—Fatima is just a friend. I don't think of her that way, and she doesn't like me that way either. There's nothing going on."

"But you don't see it from my point of view," Maya snapped. "She's always touching you, finding some reason to be near you. It's not right, Zac. I don't like it."

"There's nothing to worry about!" Zac insisted. "You're being insecure, Maya. I don't know how else to tell you that."

Maya's eyes flared with anger. "I am NOT insecure, Zachary. I just don't trust her."

Zac exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Why don't you like her? What's the real reason?"

Maya's jaw clenched. "Because she's too close to you, Zac. And you let her be. You're too friendly with her—and with every other girl for that matter."

Zac's frustration reached its peak. "You do this every time I become friends with a girl, Maya. You act like I can't have any female friends at all."

"Because you're too friendly!" Maya shot back. "You don't need to be friends with any girls but me."

Zac stared at her, stunned into silence for a moment. "This is exactly what I'm talking about," he said quietly. "I can't do this with you anymore. Not again."

"What do you mean, 'not again'?" Maya demanded, her voice laced with fear.

"I mean I can't keep doing this back-and-forth with you. Your jealousy, the insecurity, the constant control. I can't take it anymore, Maya."

Maya's eyes widened, her breath catching. "You're breaking up with me? Over Fatima?"

Zac shook his head, his voice calm but firm. "This isn't about Fatima. It's about you. You've been controlling and manipulative since we got together, and I've let it slide for too long."

"So this is it?" Maya whispered, her voice trembling.

"Yes, this is it, Maya," Zac said, his tone final.

Maya's eyes filled with tears. "But I love you, Zac. We've been together since freshman year. You're really going to throw it all away?"

Zac's resolve faltered for a moment, but he pushed past it. "I love you too, Maya. But this isn't healthy. For either of us."

Without another word, Zac turned and walked away, leaving Maya standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.

---

That night, Zac lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Part of him wanted to call Maya, to take it all back and pretend like nothing had happened. They had been together for so long, and a part of him still cared deeply for her. But the other part—the stronger part—knew that breaking up was the right decision.

He just hoped Maya wouldn't do anything reckless. He knew how she could be when it came to him, and that thought left a gnawing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.