Over and Over

Trevor

LAYLA'S POV

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, my breath hitching as the weight of his words settled in my chest.

"I said go!"

The memory of his voice cut through me like glass. Sharp, ragged, but it wasn't anger.

I knew Hakeem well enough to recognize the crack beneath the force.

It wasn't hatred, and it wasn't resentment.

It was hurt.

And that was somehow worse.

I pressed my palm to my chest, willing my racing heart to slow, but it only hammered harder against my ribs.

The ache there felt physical, a dull, gnawing pain that refused to ease.

He was pushing me away.

Again.

Just like I'd done to him too many times before, back when I thought distance would protect me from feeling too much.

But now... now, standing there with my back against his door, I realized how foolish I'd been.

Because the truth was right there, lingering between us like the scent of rain before a storm.

It wasn't anger.
It wasn't indifference.

It was longing.

And I couldn't let him drown in it alone.

Not now. Not when I finally understood what he meant to me.

HAKEEM'S POV

The click of the door behind her echoed louder than it should have in the stillness of my room.

I let out a shaky breath and dropped into the chair by the window, every muscle in my body aching with a heaviness I couldn't shake.

I'd told her to leave.

I'd forced the words out before I did something reckless, before I reached for her the way I wanted to.

Before I let her see how much power she still had over me.

I stared down at my hands.

One was tightly bandaged, a constant reminder of my latest mistakes.

The other trembled slightly against my knee.

I clenched it into a fist.

Zubair's voice replayed in my head for the hundredth time.

"Let her come to you. Let her realize what she's losing."

I'd tried. God knows I'd tried.

I'd kept my distance.

Pulled away.

Swallowed every word I wanted to say, hoping she'd notice the space I left behind.

Hoping she'd care.

But all it had done was leave me empty.

And now... now she was gone, and the room felt even colder than before.

I turned to the window, watching the city lights shimmer in the distance, my chest tight with a storm I couldn't name.

I still wanted her.
I still loved her.

But if this meant anything to her, she had to be the one to fight for it this time.

I couldn't bleed for us alone anymore.

NARRATOR'S POV

Neither of them slept that night.

Layla lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling as the memory of his voice, his closeness, the way his eyes softened when they locked with hers, clung to her skin like a second heartbeat.

And in his room, Hakeem sat by the window, watching the restless city while his thoughts tore him apart.

By morning, the house felt different.

The air itself seemed heavier, thick with unspoken words and tension too sharp to ignore.

Layla hesitated at the entrance of the dining room.

She could hear the quiet clatter of cutlery, the occasional murmur of conversation.

But all she saw was him.

Hakeem sat slightly apart from the others, his chair angled away like a soldier refusing to lower his guard.

Nora was beside him, her hand resting possessively on his arm as she leaned in to whisper something meant for him alone.

He smiled.

But it wasn't a real smile.

It was the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes, that made Layla's heart twist in a way that was all too familiar.

For a moment, she wanted to turn around and leave, to let pride win.

But then she remembered the look in his eyes last night, the hurt, the longing buried beneath all that stubbornness.

No.

She wasn't walking away this time.

Swallowing her nerves, she crossed the room, ignoring the sudden hush that followed her.

Every pair of eyes settled on her like a spotlight, but she kept moving, her gaze locked on him.

"Hakeem," she said, her voice softer than she intended but steady enough to carry.

He looked up at her, the shield still firmly in place, though something flickered in his gaze.

A shadow of the man she knew.

"Can we talk?" she asked. "Alone."

The silence stretched between them like a thin, dangerous thread.

She could feel Nora's glare without even looking.

The other girl's fingers tensed on his arm, a silent warning.

"Maybe now isn't the best time," Nora said sweetly, her voice dripping with practiced concern.

Layla's patience snapped.

"I wasn't asking you, Nora."

It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be.

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Something shifted in Hakeem's eyes then.

Surprise.

Maybe even the faintest hint of admiration.

He stared at her a beat longer, then let out a slow breath and pushed back his chair.

"Fine," he said quietly, his voice rough but steady. "Let's talk."

Without waiting, he moved out of the dining room, and Layla followed, aware of every stare, every whisper trailing behind them like a storm cloud about to burst.

But she didn't care.

Not about Nora.
Not about what anyone thought.

Right now, all that mattered was him.

And the chance to finally, finally get it right.