Love Before Graduation-Chapter 62: All I Heard

that conversations aren't with whom, but for whom they happen.

I looked at Arin—

he stood like a shrine of silence,

his brows slightly raised,

and then...

he simply shook his head,

as if saying—

"I've always stood outside, waiting."

From behind, Nami's voice came—no, a pointed question.

"What do you need to tell?"

I said nothing.

Before saying anything, I had already said everything... it was my habit.

"I have to tell Tenzin," I said.

Her eyes narrowed with sarcasm, as if saying—

What does Arin care, that he'd believe you so much?

I didn't need to respond—because trust is never given, it's quietly stolen.

"Okay, I'm leaving,"

I said, as I slowly pushed my chair back,

as if each push was furthering the distance in a relationship.

I stood, but my steps rebelled against me.

My heart—became a weary drum,

its beat clashing against my chest,

as if a ghazal was searching for its first line.

He was there—leaning against the wall,

arms crossed, eyes on the floor,

as if lost in the alleys of thoughts.

As soon as he saw me,

he gathered himself,

straightened his back—

as if love had knocked.

"Are you okay?"

His voice floated in the air,

soft... like it came from an old letter.

I nodded,

my tongue didn't cooperate,

I just said—

"Can we talk somewhere... quiet?"

He looked at me,

and without asking anything,

as if he'd already heard every unspoken word,

he said—

"Let's go."

And without another word, he started walking.

I became the shadow of his silence,

steps trailing behind him,

like an unfinished question chasing its answer.

The hallway was long,

sunlight filtered through the windows

making tired patches on the dusty tiles—

as if time had left some memories there.

With every step,

the noises of the classroom, laughter,

teachers' scolding—

all faded away,

as if the sounds of an old day were growing faint.

On the lower floor, there was a silence—

the kind found not in books,

but in broken relationships.

He stopped—by a pillar,

where light scattered on the floor in patches,

as if the sun had left without saying anything.

His back was to me,

but I knew—

some words were floating between us,

unsaid,

but felt.

"What's going on?"

"I need your help."

My words hung in the air,

as if they couldn't decide

whether to fall or fly.

My heart was pounding,

each beat asking a question—

Should I tell him?

Will he understand? Will he... be on my side?

Arin looked into my eyes.

They weren't eyes, they were mirrors—

where I gazed at myself and grew anxious.

"What kind of help?"

His tone was calm,

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

but underneath his words, there was a slight unease.

"Can you... call Tenzin here?"

I said, my voice hesitant,

but my words carried a clear intent.

His face hardened, as if recalling an old wound.

"Tenzin?"

He repeated, pausing,

as if a wall had risen with the name.

"I don't think he'll come..."

"Why?" I asked

"Because he didn't listen to you, he only heard about you." Arin replied

And that's the biggest problem in this world

People don't listen to us,

they only hear about us.

"I didn't say anything!"

The words escaped my mouth,

sharp, uncontrolled.

I was startled by my own voice.

"Calm down,"

he said, leaning forward slightly,

"I know... but Tenzin still thinks that way."

I took a deep breath,

as if some pain inside was seeking permission to come out.

"It's about his girlfriend... Suhina,"

I said softly.

There was a stir in his eyes—

as if he was suddenly pulled far away.

"What?" he asked.

"Call her here, and I'll tell you everything."

This time, my voice had no tremor.

He looked at me for a moment.

Then, without saying anything, he stepped back,

pulled out his phone, and started typing.

"Okay. Stay here... I'll send him a message."

And then... silence.

We stood there—two strangers who once knew each other very well.

Sometimes our eyes would meet,

but it was as if neither of us had anything left to say—

or perhaps, there was so much to say,

that staying silent seemed better.

Then— Tenzin arrived.

"What's going on, Arin?"

He asked, in a sharp tone, as if trying to open an old book,

then his gaze shifted to me,

"Why is she here?"

Filled with anger, as if searching for the answer to a pain.

I answered before Arin could speak—

"Because I need to talk to you."

He stood there, with a cold face,

surrounded by a silence of pride,

but said nothing. He just stood there.

As if his silence would make the words lose their meaning.

"This isn't for me... it's for Suhina. She needs your help,"

I said softly, as if a heart sinking in pain was opening its secret.

He laughed—

"Really? You're still trying to stir up drama?"

"I am not lying!"

I stepped forward, as if making a vow.

"Suhina needs our help. She's not okay."

Tenzin's voice grew louder—

"And why would she tell you, not me?"

He was yelling now,

as if a flood of anger had come, and each word carried a break.

Before I could respond—

"Why are you yelling? Just listen to her, once!"

It was Arin.

His voice was raised—

I had never heard him break silence so deeply,

as if a storm had destroyed the wall of a close relationship.

Tenzin was startled, then he smiled.

"Now you're supporting her, Arin?"

Arin didn't say much.

Just two words—

"Just listen."

And then—

I told them everything.

What had happened last night,

what had happened this morning,

everything Suhina had told me.

The truth came out—

heavy, raw, and unhidden.