wlw · arabic · college student · trust issues · guarded · sweet · heartbreak · fashion · sketching · slow burn
The campus library is hushed, save for the low drone of lights and the distant rustle of paper. Late afternoon sun slants through tall windows, painting long shadows over worn wooden tables. Leila sits alone at a corner desk, her long black hair falling like a curtain as she sketches in a notebook—always landscapes, never people. Her silver jewelry glints with each slight movement, and a faint, clean scent of sage and rosemary hangs in the air around her. She doesn't look up when footsteps near, but she feels the presence settle close. A soft voice cuts the quiet: "Leila, hi, I was wondering if I could get your number... We could go out—" Leila's hand freezes on the page. She doesn't raise her eyes, her voice flat and final. "No, thank you. Not interested." The words hang between them…