The air in the office felt heavier than usual. Zayn sat in his corner, his eyes glued to the architectural plans in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere—still tangled in the web of emotions he had shared with Raisa. They had been at a crossroads last night, and the words they exchanged had shaken him more than he wanted to admit.

"Zayn, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?" Her voice echoed in his head, as clear as if she was still standing in front of him. Her wide eyes searching for an answer, an explanation, a reason why he was pulling away when everything between them seemed to be aligning.

His hands fidgeted, tapping on the desk absentmindedly. Tap, tap, tap. It wasn't the first time he had struggled to reconcile his career ambitions with his personal life. But this time, it felt different. This time, the stakes were higher, and Raisa was becoming more than just a fleeting emotion.

A knock on the door brought him back to reality. "Come in," Zayn called out, forcing himself to sound composed. Luca walked in, his expression serious, and Zayn could sense the weight of unspoken words hovering between them.

"Zayn, we need to talk," Luca said, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his normally relaxed demeanor replaced with something sterner. "The investors are pushing back. They need us to finalize the designs by next week. I know you're going through a lot, but we can't afford any delays."

Zayn clenched his jaw. Of course, Luca had no idea about the emotional storm raging inside him. To Luca, everything was just business, as it should be. Zayn wanted to scream, but instead, he simply nodded.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, his voice sounding more distant than he intended. "I’ll get it done."

"Good." Luca studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing as if trying to read something beneath the surface. "You know, Zayn, you're not alone in this. If there’s anything else—anything personal—" he trailed off, hesitating.

Zayn met his gaze, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell Luca everything—to admit how tangled his emotions were, how confused he felt about Raisa, and how he feared losing control over both his personal and professional life. But the words stayed locked inside.

"I’m fine, Luca. Thanks," he said instead, though the words felt hollow. Luca seemed unconvinced but didn’t push further. He left the office, leaving Zayn alone once again.

Thud! Zayn’s fist hit the table in frustration. Everything was spinning out of control, and no matter how hard he tried to balance his life, it all seemed to be slipping away. The weight of expectations—from his clients, from Luca, and even from himself—pressed on him like a heavy cloud, and for the first time in years, he felt completely lost.

Meanwhile, across town, Raisa sat by her apartment window, watching the rain patter softly against the glass. Drip. Drip. Drip. It was as if the sky was mirroring her mood, a somber reflection of the emotional weight she had carried since her conversation with Zayn.

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She pulled her knees to her chest, her phone clutched in her hand as she scrolled mindlessly through her social media feeds. The curated perfection of other people’s lives only deepened her sense of isolation. The image she projected online—confident, glamorous, always smiling—was nothing but a mask. Beneath it, she felt like a shadow of herself.

"Ahh!" she exclaimed, throwing her phone onto the couch. She couldn’t take it anymore. The constant pressure to be someone she wasn’t, to fit into a life that no longer felt like her own, was suffocating.

Her thoughts drifted back to Zayn. He had been so distant lately, retreating further into his work. She could feel him slipping away, and no matter how much she tried to reach him, he seemed to put up walls between them. Last night had been their breaking point, or at least it felt that way.

"I don’t want to lose you," she had told him, her voice barely above a whisper. But his silence had said more than words ever could.

Kriiiing!

The sudden sound of her phone ringing startled her. She glanced at the screen—Kendra’s name flashed across it. Part of her didn’t want to answer, but another part of her craved the connection.

"Hey," Raisa said softly, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Rai, are you okay?" Kendra’s voice was filled with concern. "You didn’t sound like yourself last time we talked."

Raisa hesitated, then sighed. "I don’t know, Kendra. Everything’s a mess right now."

"Is it Zayn?" Kendra asked, always direct but caring.

"Yeah. It’s like we’re on two different paths. I thought we were getting closer, but now it feels like he’s shutting me out completely. And I... I don’t know how to fix it."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Raisa could hear Kendra exhaling deeply. "Maybe it’s not about fixing it, Rai. Maybe it’s about accepting that some things are out of your control. You’ve been trying so hard to be everything for everyone—especially online—but what about being there for yourself?"

Raisa blinked, her chest tightening. Kendra was right. She had been so caught up in her image, in trying to hold everything together, that she had forgotten about her own needs—her own happiness.

"Maybe you're right," Raisa whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. "But what if I’m too late?"

"You're never too late, Rai," Kendra reassured her. "You just have to figure out what you really want—outside of Zayn, outside of all the noise."

As the evening fell, Zayn found himself standing on his apartment balcony, staring out at the cityscape. The sky above was dark, heavy with clouds, mirroring his internal turmoil. He closed his eyes, taking in the cold breeze. The weight of expectations had never felt so crushing, and yet, in the silence of the night, he realized something.

He didn’t want to lose Raisa.

The thought hit him like a wave, and for the first time, he acknowledged the truth he had been avoiding. If he wanted things to work with her, he needed to let go of the perfection he was chasing, the unrealistic expectations he had set for himself.

Maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t about being perfect. It was about being real.

With renewed resolve, Zayn picked up his phone, his heart racing as he dialed Raisa’s number. It rang once, twice, and then—click.

"Zayn?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.

"Raisa, I—" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I’m sorry. For everything. For pulling away, for not letting you in. I’ve been so caught up in my own mess that I forgot what really matters."

There was silence on the other end, but he could feel her listening.

"I don’t want to lose you, Raisa," he continued, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Not now, not ever."

Raisa’s breath hitched, and for the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Under the same sky, despite the distance between them, they were finally speaking the same language—one of truth, of vulnerability, of love.