The next few days felt like a blur to Divangshi. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart would skip a beat, half-hoping, half-dreading it was Hamza. But she had made up her mind—no more replying. He deserved to be happy, and if Jiya was the one who could give him that, then who was she to get in the way?
At school, she tried to stay invisible. Head down, headphones in, moving through the hallways like a ghost, barely registering the murmured conversations around her. But despite her best efforts to avoid the world, she couldn’t escape Hamza’s presence. Every corner, every classroom felt suffocating with him around.
It was Thursday when things came to a head.
Divangshi was sitting in her usual spot in the library, her notebook open but untouched. She stared blankly at the pages, trying to focus on her writing but failing miserably. Her mind kept circling back to that day—Jiya’s words, Hamza’s message, the feeling of everything crumbling beneath her.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made her flinch. She looked up, her heart sinking as Hamza slid into the seat across from her.
“Div,” he said softly, leaning forward. Divangshi felt her heart clench as soon his nickname for her reached her ears. His brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
Her chest tightened. She’d been dreading this moment, but there was no way out now. Taking a deep breath, she forced a neutral expression and shrugged. “Nothing’s going on, Hamza. Just... busy, I guess.”
“Busy?” Hamza raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on, you’ve been dodging my texts, my calls... I thought we were friends. Did I do something wrong?”
His voice was full of genuine confusion, which only made things worse. He didn’t know. He had no idea about the storm raging inside her.
Divangshi shook her head, her hands gripping the edge of her notebook. “You didn’t do anything, Hamza. Really, it’s just... I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but even she could hear the cracks in her words.
Hamza wasn’t convinced. “Look, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. I thought we were closer than this.” His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of frustration now. “I’m not a mind reader, Diva. If something’s wrong, I need to know.”
Divangshi looked away, her throat tight. How could she explain what was wrong when the problem was him? The way he made her feel... the way she couldn’t stop thinking about him. But he didn’t feel the same. He had Jiya. And she couldn’t bear the thought of coming between them.
“It’s nothing, Hamza. Just drop it.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt flash across his face.
He sat back, crossing his arms. “Drop it? Really, that’s it?”
She wanted to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she just stared down at her notebook, her eyes stinging.
Hamza sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it, Diva. We’ve always been straight with each other. Why are you shutting me out now?”
The silence between them felt heavy, like the air itself had thickened with all the unsaid things hanging between them. Hamza was still looking at her, waiting for an answer, but she couldn’t give him one. She couldn’t tell him about the rumors, about Jiya’s words, about how every time she saw them together it felt like someone was squeezing her heart.
“I’m not shutting you out,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hamza’s eyes softened, but the frustration was still there. “Then why does it feel like you are?”
Divangshi clenched her fists under the table, forcing herself to stay calm. “I just need some space, Hamza. That’s all.”
His expression shifted, confusion turning into something more guarded. “Space? From me?”
She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. From everything. It’s... it’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” he pressed, leaning forward again.
“Hamza!” The words slipped out before she could stop it, her voice breaking slightly. She saw Hamza’s eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. “I just... I can’t do this right now.”
Hamza stared at her, his expression unreadable. After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded, though it was clear he didn’t understand. “Fine. If you need space, I’ll give you space.” His voice was flat now, the warmth gone. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor once more. “But just so you know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. About whatever this is.”
Divangshi didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her throat felt tight, her heart aching with every step he took away from her. She watched as Hamza disappeared around the corner, and for a moment, she felt like she could barely breathe.
As soon as he was gone, she let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She had pushed him away, and he didn’t even know why.
In the quiet of the library, the weight of her decision settled over her like a heavy blanket. She knew she couldn’t keep doing this—avoiding him, pretending like nothing was wrong. But the alternative was worse. How could she face him every day, knowing that he was slipping further away from her, towards someone else?
Her phone buzzed again, another message from Hamza lighting up the screen. She didn’t open it. She couldn’t bear to.
Her mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, sadness, and confusion. What if she was wrong about everything? What if Jiya had just been messing with her? But then again, what if she wasn’t? What if Hamza really did like Jiya more than her?
Divangshi buried her face in her hands, her chest tightening as she fought back the tears. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep putting herself through this. She had to let him go. For his sake, and for hers.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Divangshi stood up, wiping her eyes and steeling herself. She would avoid Hamza. For good. It was the only way to protect herself from the inevitable heartbreak that was waiting around the corner.
And so, as she walked out of the library, her phone still buzzing with unread messages, Divangshi made her decision.
She wouldn’t talk to Hamza. Not today. Not tomorrow.
Maybe not ever.
