Chapter 10

The door had barely closed behind Shivani and Anamika when the silence returned.

But this silence,
was not the same as before.

It carried the echoes of sharp words,

unfinished emotions,

and something fragile that had almost cracked before it had even begun.

Zivah stood still for a moment.

Her jaw was slightly tight,

not out of anger—but restraint.

Then slowly,
she turned.

Eraya was standing near the bedroom door,

her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve,

her shoulders drawn inward in a way that didn’t look temporary.

It looked… practiced.

Like something she had learned to do over years.

Zivah’s expression softened instantly.

She took a step toward her.

Then another.

“Hey…” her voice dropped, gentler now,

careful not to let the sharpness from moments ago linger.

“I’m really sorry about Shivi.”

Eraya shook her head almost immediately.

The response was too quick.

Too ready.

“No… she’s right.”

Zivah stopped.

Not because she didn’t expect that answer,

but because of how easily it came out.

Like it wasn’t a reaction.

Like it was a belief.

She moved closer now,

closing the space between them slowly, not forcing eye contact,

just… being there.

“Right about what, Eraya?” she asked, her tone not challenging, but genuinely asking her to say it.

Eraya’s gaze dropped.

Her voice was quiet, but steady in a way that felt heavier than tears.

“She said I don’t fit here… and I don’t,” she admitted.

“You’re fighting with people who have always been by your side because of me… and I don’t even know how to stand beside you without making things worse.”

The words didn’t rush.

They unfolded.

Layer by layer.

Zivah felt something in her chest pull.

Not pity.

Not sympathy.

Something closer to… anger.

Not at Eraya.

But at the fact that she believed this so completely.

Zivah took a slow breath.

Then she lowered herself onto the chair near her instead of standing above her.

Level.

Equal.

“Listen to me carefully,” she said softly,

but there was a firmness underneath that made the words settle deeper.

Eraya didn’t look up.

But she listened.

“Shivani is… intense,” Zivah began, exhaling lightly, almost as if choosing her words with care.

“She thinks loud, she reacts fast,

and when she decides something about someone,

she holds onto it like it’s the truth, even when it’s not.”

A small pause.

“She doesn’t give people space to explain themselves.

She fills in the gaps with her own assumptions… and then believes them.”

Eraya’s fingers tightened slightly.

Zivah noticed.

“And the thing is…” she continued, leaning forward just a little, her voice softening further,

“she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. In her mind, she’s protecting what she loves. She thinks she’s keeping things safe.”

A faint, tired smile touched her lips.

“But sometimes… she ends up hurting people instead.”

Eraya finally lifted her eyes.

Just a little.

Zivah held that gaze gently.

“What she said about you… that wasn’t truth,” she said slowly.

“That was her fear speaking. Her discomfort. Her inability to understand something that doesn’t fit into the version she’s used to.”

A pause.

“And that’s not your responsibility to fix.”

Eraya’s lips parted slightly.

“But it still affects you—”

“It affects me because I let it,” Zivah interrupted softly.

“Not because you caused it.”

That made Eraya still.

Zivah leaned back slightly, her hands resting loosely, but her eyes never leaving her.

“You keep saying you’re the reason things are becoming difficult for me,” she continued.

“But you’re not. What’s difficult is watching someone I care about speak about you without understanding you.”

Her voice deepened slightly.

“That’s what I won’t tolerate.”

Silence fell.

Not empty.

But full.

Zivah let it settle before speaking again.

“There is no right or wrong way to exist, Eraya.”

This time,
she didn’t rush the words.

She let them land.

“You’re quiet? That’s not wrong.

You keep to yourself? That’s not wrong.

You don’t open up easily? That’s not wrong either.”

Her gaze softened.

“It just means you’ve lived a life where being open wasn’t safe.”

Eraya’s breathing shifted.

Slightly uneven.

Zivah noticed,
and slowed down even more.

“You don’t have to change the way you exist just to fit into someone else’s comfort,” she said quietly.

“Because the right people… they don’t ask you to shrink.”

The room stilled.

Something inside Eraya,
loosened.

Not completely.

But enough.

Her shoulders dropped just a fraction.

Her grip on her sleeve softened.

“I don’t know how to be like others,” she whispered.

Zivah’s expression changed.

Softer.

Almost… understanding.

“You don’t have to be like others,” she said immediately.

“I’m not asking you to become anything you’re not.”

A pause.

“I’m asking you to stay exactly the way you are… and just let yourself be seen slowly.”

Eraya looked at her.

Longer this time.

Not fully open.

But not closed either.

And for the first time,
there was no immediate rejection of what she was hearing.

Just… quiet acceptance.

Zivah noticed.

And didn’t push further.

Instead, she let the moment breathe before asking softly,

“How did you sleep?”

The question was simple.

But it wasn’t casual.

It held care.

Real care.

Eraya hesitated.

Then answered honestly,

“Better than… most nights.”

Zivah’s chest warmed.

It wasn’t a big statement.

But it meant something.

“Good,” she said quietly, a small smile
forming.

“That’s… really good.”

A pause.

Then, lighter,

“So… what do you think of the place?”

Eraya’s gaze moved around the room.

The soft light.

The calm space.

The quiet.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

“Your apartment is… very peaceful.”

Zivah smiled.

But it didn’t reach completely.

Your apartment.

Not our home.

The thought flickered briefly.

Unnoticed by Eraya.

Zivah pushed it aside.

It was too early for that.

Instead, she nodded lightly.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Then, after a second,

“Are you hungry?”

Eraya looked at her.

Then asked softly,

“Are you?”

Zivah blinked.

Then nodded, almost sheepishly.

“…a little.”

Something small shifted.

Eraya’s lips curved.

Just a little.

“I can cook,” she said.

Zivah straightened immediately.

“You can?”

There was genuine excitement in her voice.
And something about that reaction,
made Eraya feel… unexpectedly warm.

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s officially the best news I’ve heard today,” Zivah said, already moving toward the kitchen.

“Come, I’ll show you where everything is.”

The kitchen filled with a different kind of energy.

Zivah opened cabinets, pointing things out quickly, slightly chaotically.

“Spices are here—although I don’t use them much so… proceed with caution.”

“Vegetables in the fridge.”

“Utensils—everywhere, honestly.”

Eraya watched.

And for the first time,

there was a faint softness in her eyes.

Not guarded.

Not distant.

Just… observing.

Zivah finally stepped back, gesturing dramatically.

“All yours.”

Eraya nodded and began.

Her movements were slow at first.

Careful.

Then gradually,
more certain.

Zivah sat on one of the stools, resting her chin on her hand, watching.

Not hiding it.

Not pretending.

Just… watching.

After a while, she spoke,

“I don’t like eating alone.”

Eraya paused slightly.

Then glanced at her.

“You should eat with me.”

The sentence was simple.

But it held meaning.

Eraya nodded.

“…okay.”

At the table,
Eraya served the food quietly.

Zivah took her first bite.

And froze.

Her eyes widened.

“This is—”

She looked at Eraya.

“—this is actually amazing.”

Not exaggerated.

Not polite.

Genuine.

Eraya blinked.

“…really?”

“Yes, really,” Zivah said immediately.

“If this is your ‘I can cook,’ then I’ve been living my life wrong.”

A small, disbelieving breath escaped Eraya.

No one had ever said something like that to her.

Not for something this simple.

Not like it mattered.

She looked down slightly.

But there was something new in her expression.

Something softer.

Something… lighter.

They ate quietly after that.

But it wasn’t empty silence.

It was comfortable.

Occasionally, Zivah would say something small,

about how she nearly burned toast once.

About how she survived mostly on takeout.

And once,

Eraya let out a quiet, unexpected laugh.

It was soft.

Short.

But real.

And Zivah noticed.

She didn’t point it out.

But she held onto it.

After lunch, Zivah stood.

“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you the rest.”

She led her through the apartment slowly.

The balcony.

Where the evening light filtered in gently.

The study room.

Organized chaos.

And finally,
the bookshelf.

Eraya’s eyes lingered there.

Rows and rows of books.

But,
not the kind she expected.

Agriculture.

Research.

Soil studies.

Zivah noticed.

“ I’m not really a novel person,” she admitted with a small shrug.

“But…”

She glanced at Eraya.

“…since you like them, I’ll get some.”

Eraya looked at her.

Caught off guard.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Zivah said simply.

“I want to.”

And that,
ended the argument before it began.

Shivani paced the length of the room again.

Her frustration hadn’t left.

It had just changed shape.

“This doesn’t sit right with me, Mika,” she said,

her voice sharp but less explosive than before.

“I don’t understand how she just… walked into Zivah’s life like this and suddenly everything is shifting.”

Anamika sat on the couch, watching her carefully.

Not interrupting.

Letting her empty it out.

“She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t connect, she doesn’t even try,” Shivani continued, running her hand through her hair.

“And now Zivah is defending her like—like she’s known her for years!”

Anamika finally spoke.

Softly.

“Or maybe she saw something in her that we didn’t bother to look for.”

Shivani stopped.

Turned.

“Don’t do that,” she said immediately.

“Don’t turn this into some deep story.
Some people are just… distant.”

Anamika shook her head gently.

“No, Shivi,” she said quietly.

“Some people are distant because they were never given a safe place to be close.”

The words lingered.

Shivani’s expression flickered.

But she didn’t give in.

“That’s not our responsibility.”

“No,” Anamika agreed calmly.

“But judging them without understanding them isn’t our right either.”

Shivani looked away.

Her jaw tightening again.

“You didn’t see how she looked at us,” she muttered.

“Like she didn’t even care.”

Anamika stood slowly, walking toward her.

Her voice softer now.

Deeper.

“Or maybe she looked like that because she didn’t know how to stand in a room where people already had opinions about her.”

Shivani didn’t respond.

So Anamika continued.

“Tell me something honestly,” she said, her tone shifting, more personal now.

“If you walked into a room where everyone had already decided who you are… would you feel like talking?”

That,
hit.

Shivani exhaled sharply.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Anamika asked gently.

“Or are we just refusing to see it that way because it’s easier?”

Silence.

Shivani sat down finally.

Her anger wasn’t gone.

But it wasn’t as loud.

“I don’t like her,” she admitted.

Anamika nodded.

“You don’t have to.”

A pause.

“But you have to respect Zivah’s choice.”

Shivani’s eyes lifted.

Anamika’s voice softened further.

“You love Zivah, don’t you?”

“…obviously.”

“Then trust her.”

The simplicity of it,
made it harder to argue.

“She’s not impulsive,” Anamika continued.

“You know that. If she made this decision… there’s a reason behind it.”

A beat.

“And instead of standing against her… we should stand with her.”

Shivani swallowed.

Her voice quieter now.

“I don’t want to lose her.”

Anamika stepped closer.

Placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Then don’t push her away by fighting what she’s trying to protect.”

A long silence followed.

Then finally,
Shivani nodded.

Slowly.

“…I’ll try.”

Anamika smiled faintly.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

The knock this time was softer.

Measured.

Not impulsive.

Zivah opened the door.

Her expression neutral.

But her eyes,
searching.

Shivani stood there.

Anamika behind her.

There was tension.

But it wasn’t explosive anymore.

Zivah didn’t say anything.

She just stepped aside.

Leaving the door open.

Shivani walked in slowly.

Her gaze moving around the apartment.
Taking it in.

“…where is she?”

“In the washroom,” Zivah replied calmly.

“And before anything else—”

Her voice steadied.

“I’m not tolerating any disrespect this time.”

Shivani nodded.

“I know.”

A pause.

“I’m not here for that.”

Zivah crossed her arms lightly.

Waiting.

Shivani exhaled.

Then spoke,
longer this time.

More honest.

“When I decide something about someone… I hold onto it,” she admitted.

“And I don’t stop to question if I’m wrong.”

Her voice wasn’t defensive anymore.

It was… reflective.

“I thought she was arrogant. Distant. Not worth the effort,” she continued.

“And instead of giving her a chance… I just kept building on that thought.”

A pause.

“Until it became the only way I saw her.”

Zivah’s expression softened slightly.

“I don’t know her,” Shivani added.

“I still don’t. And I’m not going to pretend I suddenly like her.”

Honest.

Raw.

“But I don’t want to hurt you either.”

That,
mattered.

“So I’ll try,” she said.

“I’ll try to understand. I’ll try to not let my assumptions decide everything.”

Zivah watched her for a long moment.

Then,
a smile broke through.

Soft.

Relieved.

“I knew Anu would fix your brain.”

Shivani scoffed.

“Don’t get used to it.”

They hugged.

Longer this time.

More real..

Anamika smiled.

“Tomorrow, we go shopping.”

Zivah blinked.

“…what?”

“We need bonding time,” Anamika said simply.

Zivah hesitated.

“I don’t know if Eraya will be comfortable—”

“I’ll handle that,” Shivani said.

Just then,
the bedroom door opened.

Eraya stepped out.

She saw them.

Paused.

Turned slightly,
ready to go back.

“Hey,” Shivani said.

Not harsh.

Not soft.

Just… calling her.

Eraya stopped.

Slowly turned.

Shivani stepped closer.

“I don’t apologize easily,” she said honestly.

“And I’m not going to pretend I understand you yet.”

A pause.

“But I want to.”

Eraya blinked.

Caught off guard.

“So… we’re going shopping tomorrow,” Shivani continued.

“You’re coming.”

Eraya hesitated.

Zivah stepped in gently.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“No,” Shivani interrupted softly.

“Let her decide.”

Then, looking at Eraya,

“I’m asking properly this time.”

Silence.

Then,
slowly,

Eraya nodded.

“…okay.”

Anamika smiled.

“Good.”

After they left,
Zivah turned to her.

“You don’t have to go if you’re not comfortable.”

Eraya looked at her.

Then said quietly,

“I think… I can try.”

Zivah smiled.

Soft.

Proud.

That night,
Zivah lay on the couch.

Eraya on the bed.

Both awake.

Both thinking.

About tomorrow.

About change.

About something neither of them fully understood yet,

but were slowly, quietly,
walking toward.

something began to settle.

Not perfectly.

Not completely.

But enough to move forward.