Love Before Graduation-Chapter 73: chasing the night

For a moment, everything went silent—so silent that if anyone had even taken a breath, the earth itself would have trembled. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"The story of Subh..." hung in the air. There was no smoke, but the suffocation felt the same. Fear was cheap, but its effect sank into the skin like the first night at a brothel.

"Let's go," Riyan said. His voice carried that habit that men get—be tough, because the world barks at softness.

Arin said something. Or maybe he didn't. His lips moved, but his eyes remained still.

Perhaps he was also thinking about which word could ruin a life, which secret might not just be a secret but a burden.

Everyone nodded silently. It was as if there was mourning, but crying was forbidden.

Nami waved her hand—she was the girl who had grown larger than fear itself, or perhaps she hadn't yet understood it fully. She started her scooter and sped off.

I tried too. It didn't start.

Why does that happen? Whenever life needs it, machines freeze.

Scooter off, heart on.

I pressed the button. Again. Again. Again. Nothing.

I cursed, but that story kept spinning in my mind. Not Subh's—mine.

Where fear wasn't just a part of the story, but the man who suddenly appeared from behind and asked—"Are you still here?"

I screamed. Why? Because for a woman, every shadow on a lonely night feels like death.

It was Arin. Yes, him. The one who speaks little but watches more. The one who laughs and makes you feel like something is being hidden. And when he helps, you think he wants something.

"I can't just leave you," he said.

Oh?

He seemed decent. Maybe he was. Or maybe he was just decent at this moment.

We started walking together.

The road was empty, like a bed that had been slept in—the only things left were cigarette butts and the scent of sweat.

He was beside me. So close that if his breath quickened, my waist would tremble. So far that if I said anything, he could say, "I didn't do anything."

I asked, "Why did you come back?"

He said, "I can't leave you alone."

How easily men say these things.

Women can't even think about it—whether it's concern or just an opportunity.

We kept walking.

The darkness deepened.

They taught us in school that darkness scares us.

Life showed me that in the dark, some people start to stand out more clearly.

I asked him—

"Do you believe in love?"

He listened to the question as if a father was hearing his daughter mention a boy for the first time.

Instead of answer he question Back "Do you?"

"No... yes... maybe," I said to myself.

Because answering was hard. And lying... even harder.

He stayed silent.

Or perhaps his silence was the answer.

The story doesn't end there.

The story begins there—

Where a girl's scooter stops,

and a boy comes to help, or take a chance—the difference lies in the intent, which can neither be written nor read.

> "Love stories don't start with a broken scooter,

but a man's intent opens up right there."