Zaid tried to push the strange feeling away.
Tried to ignore the way Zoha's gaze lingered on him a little too long.
But it was hard.
Because every time he looked up, she was there.
And every time she smiled—even just a little—he felt it.
Rohan threw the ball in frustration, shaking his head.
"Fine," he muttered. "I give up."
Zaid raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Rohan sighed. "You win, man."
The rich kids exchanged glances.
Zaid blinked. He had won?
Rohan stepped closer, holding out a hand.
"You're the better player."
Zaid hesitated.
Then, slowly, he reached out and shook it.
It felt weird.
After everything—the arrogance, the taunts, the sneers—he had earned their respect.
Zoha suddenly clapped her hands.
"Well, that was fun," she said. "Now, who's treating me to ice cream?"
Zaid snorted. "You act like you did something."
She grinned. "Moral support is important!"
Rohan rolled his eyes but smirked. "Fine. Let's go."
As they started walking, Zoha fell in step beside Zaid.
She didn't say anything at first.
Then—
"You're really something, you know?"
Zaid glanced at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
She tilted her head, looking at him thoughtfully.
"You act like you don't belong. Like you're always one step away from losing everything."
His throat tightened.
She smiled, nudging him lightly.
"But when you're on that pitch? You look like you own the damn world."
Zaid looked away, feeling something in his chest—something he wasn't ready to name.
For now, he just walked beside her, the game behind them.
But the feeling?
It stayed.
The group strolled down the street, the sun dipping low on the horizon.
The match was over, but Zaid still felt the adrenaline in his veins.
He had won.
But more than that—he had been accepted.
Zoha walked beside him, her hands tucked into her hoodie pocket.
She was humming softly, a relaxed smile on her face.
Rohan and the others were ahead, arguing over which ice cream place was better.
Zaid exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You didn't have to defend me back there, you know."
Zoha raised an eyebrow. "What, against Rohan?"
He nodded.
She scoffed. "Please. He deserved it."
Zaid smirked. "Still. Thanks."
Zoha tilted her head. "Wow. Is Zaid Khan actually being nice to me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Forget it."
She laughed. "Too late. I'm cherishing this moment forever."
They reached the ice cream shop, and Rohan grudgingly paid for everyone's order.
Zoha plopped down on the bench outside, motioning for Zaid to sit next to her.
He hesitated.
But then, he did.
She handed him his cone—chocolate, his favorite.
He blinked. "How did you—"
"You think I don't pay attention?" she said, licking her own ice cream.
Zaid didn't reply.
But his chest felt warm.
Not just because of the ice cream.
But because for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged.
And sitting there, next to Zoha, laughing over nothing—he didn't feel so alone anymore.
The night air was cool, a welcome change from the heat of the day.
Zaid leaned back against the bench, letting his ice cream melt slightly before taking another bite.
It had been a long time since he had just sat like this.
No stress. No worries.
Just… existing.
Zoha kicked her legs lightly, finishing her ice cream before him.
"You know," she said suddenly, "I don't think I've ever seen you relax before."
Zaid glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
She smirked. "You're always so serious. Always thinking about the next step, the next fight, the next challenge."
He shrugged. "I have to be."
Zoha was quiet for a moment.
Then, softly—
"Not all the time."
Zaid looked at her, and for the first time, he saw something in her eyes that made his stomach twist.
Understanding.
Like she saw right through him.
Like she knew exactly what he was feeling, even when he didn't say a word.
He cleared his throat, looking away.
"Anyway," he muttered, "you're acting like I'm some kind of robot."
Zoha grinned. "Hey, if the shoe fits."
He shot her a glare, but she just laughed.
And somehow, despite everything, he found himself smiling, too.
The laughter between them faded into a comfortable silence.
Zoha stretched her arms, leaning back against the bench. "You should do this more often."
Zaid raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
She gestured vaguely. "Relax. Hang out. Be a normal person."
He snorted. "You say that like it's easy."
She studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. I guess for you, it's not."
Zaid didn't reply.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Every second of his life had been a fight—for survival, for respect, for a future.
He had learned that if he stopped moving forward, even for a second, the world would swallow him whole.
But here, with her?
For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was drowning.
Zoha suddenly stood up, dusting off her jeans. "Come on."
Zaid blinked. "Where?"
She grinned. "Nowhere. Let's just walk."
He hesitated.
But then, he followed.
Because for once, he wanted to know what it felt like to just… be.
And as they walked side by side through the quiet streets, he realized something.
Maybe life wasn't just about fighting.
Maybe, sometimes, it was about living, too.