Laced in Your Ruin

Chapter [XIV]: Tangled Threads of Unspoken Wars

Inara's POV

The sun filtered lazily through the library windows, casting thin streaks of gold across pages worn by time and obsession. I had been staring at the same sentence for ten minutes, eyes tracing the curve of every letter but absorbing nothing. The words blurred into shadows, dissolving under the weight of a name that shouldn't matter.

Qays Malik.

The mere thought of him was like a splinter lodged too deep under my skin to remove, irritating and constant. I hated how my focus had shifted from Milton's melancholic poetry to the echo of his voice-a voice that always carried too much arrogance and too little interest in anyone else. Yet, here I was, distracted by the very person I had vowed to avoid.

It had been over five months since I joined this university, and the semester was nearing its end. Yet, instead of settling into a peaceful routine, my life had somehow turned into a constant battle of avoidance. A battle I was losing.

"Focus, Inara." My own whisper felt like a reprimand. I tucked a loose strand of hair under my scarf, heart hammering against my ribs with an urgency I didn't understand. This wasn't who I was. I didn't let boys, especially boys like him, occupy my thoughts.

I gathered my notes with mechanical precision, shoving them into my bag, trying to suffocate the nagging feeling that I was losing control.

The hum of conversation around the campus felt louder than usual. A group of seniors was gathered near the fountain, laughing too loudly, too freely. I kept my head down, clutching my bag as if it could protect me from attention. But attention found me anyway.

"Inara Alawi, right?"

I froze mid-step, my stomach twisting into anxious knots. The voice didn't belong to Qays, but it wasn't much better. It was Aarav, another classmate-charming in a way that drew too many unnecessary eyes and carried the reputation of a flirt.

I turned slowly, schooling my expression into polite disinterest. "Yes?"

"You're good in literature, right? I was thinking... maybe you could help me out with the assignment? Over coffee?" His grin was casual, but there was something sly beneath the surface.

No. No. No. This was everything I avoided.

"I don't drink coffee," I said flatly, moving to walk past him.

"Tea, then? Or just help me after class? I could use some of your notes-"

"She said she's not interested."

The air shifted. The hairs on my neck stood up, prickling with unwanted awareness. His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but sharp enough to cut through the tension like a blade.

Qays.

Aarav stiffened. "Hey, man, just talking-"

"Talk somewhere else," Qays said, stepping closer, his presence heavy and suffocating. His eyes never left Aarav's, cold as frost in December.

The silence stretched between them like a wire pulled too tight. Finally, Aarav backed off with a scoff. "Whatever, man."

I turned to leave, but Qays wasn't done. "You're welcome, Alawi." His voice was laced with mockery.

I spun around, anger flickering like a flame. "I didn't ask for your help."

He arched an eyebrow, smug in a way that made my fists curl. "Didn't need to. You looked like you were about to combust."