Chapter 12

The food court wasn’t just crowded when they arrived,

it was alive.

Lights spilled from every direction,
reflecting off glass, metal, polished floors.

Conversations overlapped into a constant hum, laughter, orders being called out, trays clattering, chairs scraping.

It wasn’t one sound.

It was many sounds stitched together.

And for someone like Eraya,

it was overwhelming in a way she didn’t know how to explain.

She stood there for a moment longer than the others.

Her eyes moving,

slowly,

taking everything in.

The brightness.

The unfamiliar brands.

The way people sat so casually, eating things she had never seen before.

It felt… too big.

Too open.

Too much.

Anamika noticed it first.

Not in a dramatic way.

But in the way Eraya’s gaze lingered.

The way she wasn’t just looking,

she was absorbing.

Trying to understand.

Anamika’s expression softened slightly.

She glanced at Shivani.

Shivani followed her gaze.

And for a moment,

she didn’t speak.

Didn’t comment.

Didn’t roll her eyes.

She just… watched.

Carefully.

And something inside her shifted.

A quiet thought forming,

Maybe… I didn’t see her properly before.

“Come on, let’s sit there!” Shivani suddenly said, pointing toward a table,

her voice a little too loud, almost like she was trying to shake herself out of whatever she had just felt.

Anamika smirked lightly.

“You say that like you’re booking seats in a cinema.”

Shivani rolled her eyes.

“Mika, please. Let me have my main character moment.”

Zivah chuckled under her breath.

Eraya followed them quietly.

Still looking around.

Still… learning.

They sat down.

Menus were picked up.

Anamika immediately started scanning.

Shivani leaned over her shoulder.

“No, no, no, we’re not overthinking this, we’re getting burgers.”

“You always want burgers,” Anamika replied calmly.

“Because they’re reliable.”

“You said that about that one assignment and still got a B.”

“That was one time.”

Zivah smiled faintly at their banter.

Then,

she turned toward Eraya.

Softly.

“What do you want to eat?”

Eraya looked down at the menu in her hands.

The words didn’t make sense to her.

Not because she couldn’t read them,

but because she couldn’t imagine them.

Couldn’t connect them to something familiar.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the paper.

“I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

Shivani looked up immediately.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry?”

Her tone wasn’t harsh,

but it was direct.

“We’ve been walking for hours, Eraya. How can you not be hungry?”

Eraya’s grip tightened a little more.

“I’m fine,” she repeated softly.

Zivah didn’t speak right away.

She didn’t interrupt.

She just… looked at her.

Not at the words.

But at the space between them.

Then slowly,

under the table,

she reached for Eraya’s hand.

Her fingers wrapping around hers gently.

Not tight.

Not forceful.

Just… present.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low enough that it didn’t add pressure.

Eraya hesitated.

Her eyes stayed on the table.

Her voice even quieter now.

“I’ve never had this before.”

Silence.

Not loud.

But deep.

Anamika blinked.

Shivani’s expression shifted.

“…never?” she asked, slower this time.

Eraya shook her head.

“I don’t know what to order.”

Her words weren’t dramatic.

They weren’t filled with self-pity.

They were simple.

And that simplicity,

made them heavier.

Zivah’s thumb moved slightly over her hand.

A small, grounding motion.

“That’s okay,” she said gently.

Her voice didn’t change.

Didn’t show surprise.

Didn’t make it bigger than it needed to be.

“There’s always a first time.”

Eraya finally looked at her.

And for a moment,

there was something in her eyes.

Not fear.

Not hesitation.

Something softer.

Something that asked,

is that really allowed?

Zivah smiled faintly.

“I’ll order for you,” she added quietly.

“And if you don’t like it, we’ll figure something else out. There’s no pressure.”

No pressure.

The words settled slowly.

Carefully.

Like they needed permission to stay.

The order was placed.

Shivani still a little quieter than usual.

Anamika watching everything without interrupting.

And Eraya,

still holding onto Zivah’s hand.

Not tightly.

But enough.

The food arrived.

The tray placed between them.

The burger wrapped neatly.

Fries beside it.

Something so normal,

for everyone else.

Eraya looked at it.

Really looked.

Her fingers hesitated before reaching out.

Like she was unsure if she was doing it correctly.

Zivah noticed.

“Just hold it like this,” she said softly, demonstrating lightly.

Not correcting.

Just guiding.

Eraya nodded slightly.

Followed her.

Lifted it carefully.

Took a small bite.

And then,

her brows furrowed.

Just slightly.

But enough.

Zivah caught it instantly.

“You don’t like it.”

Eraya shook her head quickly.

“It’s fine.”

Zivah tilted her head.

“Eraya.”

Her voice wasn’t stern.

But it was firm.

“Tell me.”

A pause.

A longer one this time.

“…the onions,” Eraya admitted.

“They’re too strong.”

Zivah nodded.

Without hesitation.

“Okay.”

She gently took the burger from her.

Unwrapped it slightly.

And started removing the onions.

Carefully.

Piece by piece.

Not rushed.

Not annoyed.

Focused.

Like this,

mattered.

Eraya watched her.

Confused.

“…you don’t have to do that.”

Zivah didn’t look up.

“I want to.”

Simple.

Clear.

No explanation needed.

When she was done,

she wrapped it back.

Handed it to her again.

“Try now.”

Eraya took another bite.

This time,

her expression changed.

Not dramatically.

But subtly.

Her brows relaxed.

Her shoulders softened.

Her eyes lifted slightly.

“…it’s good.”

Zivah smiled.

Not wide.

Not proud.

Just… satisfied.

Like something had settled correctly.

And across the table,

Anamika and Shivani watched.

Quiet.

Because this,

this wasn’t just food.

This was attention.

Care.

Patience.

The kind of care Zivah had never shown so… intentionally before.

Shivani leaned back slightly.

Her eyes still on Eraya.

Watching the way she ate slowly.

Carefully.

Like she was learning.

And something inside her twisted.

Because suddenly,

every assumption she had made felt shallow.

Incomplete.

Unfair.

“Do you like it?” Anamika asked gently.

Eraya nodded.

“Yes.”

A small pause.

Then, almost hesitantly,

“I’ve never eaten something like this before.”

Shivani’s throat tightened.

She looked away for a second.

Then back again.

“…you don’t have to like it just because we’re eating it,” she said, her voice softer now.

Eraya blinked slightly.

“I do like it.”

Shivani nodded.

Slowly.

“Okay.”

Zivah leaned slightly toward Eraya.

“If you want something else later, we can try something else too.”

Eraya shook her head.

“This is enough.”

But Zivah noticed,

the way she ate.

Small bites.

Measured.

Not because she wasn’t hungry.

But because she was used to having less.

Zivah didn’t point it out.

Didn’t make it a moment.

But she saw it.

And it stayed with her.

The conversation around them slowly picked up again.

Shivani and Anamika slipping into their usual rhythm.

Teasing.

Arguing lightly.

Laughing.

Zivah adding in occasionally.

And Eraya,

listening.

Watching.

Not outside of it anymore.

Just… quieter within it.

And for the first time,

she didn’t feel like she was observing a life she couldn’t have.

She felt like,

maybe,

she was allowed to sit inside it.

Even if just for a while.

And sometimes,

that’s how healing begins.

Not loudly.

Not all at once.

But in small moments.

Like someone removing onions from your food,

just so you can like your first bite of something new.

The apartment was quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet.

But the kind that settles after a long day, when everything slows down, but your mind doesn’t.

Anamika was already on the bed, half-lying, half-sitting, scrolling lazily through her phone.

She noticed it first.

The glow of Shivani’s laptop screen.

The way she hadn’t moved from that position for a long time.

The way her shoulders were slightly hunched, not in relaxation, but in focus.

Or something heavier.

“Shivi…” Anamika said softly, turning toward her.

“What are you doing?”

Shivani didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes stayed on the screen.

Scrolling.

Reading.

Stopping.

Going back.

Reading again.

Her fingers hovered over the trackpad like she wasn’t just reading words,

but trying to understand something between them.

“…researching,” she said finally.

Anamika raised a brow, sitting up a little.

“Researching what exactly? There’s no assignment, there’s no submission,

and if this is you trying to be productive at midnight, I’m deeply concerned.”

Still no reaction.

Shivani clicked on another article.

Opened another tab.

“…trauma,” she said quietly.

That made Anamika pause.

Not because of the word itself.

But because of the way Shivani said it.

Careful.

Measured.

Like she wasn’t sure she deserved to say it out loud yet.

Anamika put her phone aside completely now.

“…what about trauma?”

Shivani leaned back slightly.

Not fully.

Just enough to breathe.

“I thought… I thought she was arrogant.”

Her voice didn’t rise.

It dropped.

“I invited her to group studies and she refused. Saw her sit alone. Watched her walk away from conversations like they didn’t matter.”

A pause.

Her fingers clenched slightly.

“I built an entire personality for her… without knowing a single thing about her.”

Anamika didn’t interrupt.

Because she knew,

this wasn’t a conversation.

This was unraveling.

Shivani turned the laptop slightly toward herself again.

Scrolling.

Her voice softer now.

“I’m reading about avoidance behavior,” she said slowly.

“About how people who have been hurt repeatedly… start associating closeness with danger.”

She swallowed.

“About how silence becomes safer than speaking… because speaking has consequences.”

Her eyes flickered.

Still reading.

“About how refusing people isn’t ego… it’s protection.”

Anamika watched her carefully.

The way each sentence wasn’t just information,

it was landing.

Hitting somewhere deeper.

Shivani exhaled slowly.

“…do you know what this says Mika?” she whispered.

Her voice cracked slightly.

“It says that when someone has experienced consistent harm… they stop expecting anything good.

Not because they don’t want it… but because wanting it hurts more.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled again.

“And then I remember…”

Her jaw tightened.

“…how I stood there. In front of her. And called her rude. Called her arrogant. Said she thought she was better than everyone.”

Her voice broke.

“…when she probably just… didn’t know how to exist safely around people.”

Silence filled the room.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Honest.

Anamika got up slowly.

Walked toward her.

Didn’t interrupt.

Just stood behind her for a moment.

Reading the screen over her shoulder.

Then she gently placed her hand on Shivani’s shoulder.

“…Shivi.”

Shivani shook her head immediately.

“No… don’t.”

Her voice was tight now.

“Don’t say it’s okay. Don’t say I didn’t know. Don’t say I didn’t mean it.”

She turned slightly toward Anamika.

Her eyes wet now.

“I meant every word I said, Mika. That’s the problem.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I judged her so easily. So confidently. Like I had the right to decide what kind of person she was.”

Her breath hitched.

“And today…”

She laughed weakly.

Broken.

“…today I found out she’s never had a burger.”

Anamika’s expression softened.

But Shivani wasn’t done.

“She didn’t even know how to cross a road, Mika.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Do you understand what that means?”

A long pause.

“It means her world was so small… so controlled… that basic things never reached her.”

Her shoulders shook slightly now.

“And I looked at that girl and thought,  she’s too proud to talk to us.”

Another tear.

“I thought she was choosing distance… when she probably didn’t even know how to step closer.”

Anamika slowly sat beside her.

Quiet.

Letting her speak.

Because this,

this needed to come out.

Shivani wiped her face roughly.

But her voice didn’t steady.

“I read something just now,” she said, her words slower.

“It said… when a person grows up in an environment where they are constantly blamed, constantly hurt… they begin to believe they are the problem.”

Her fingers tightened around the laptop.

“They stop asking for things. Stop expecting things. Stop… existing fully.”

Her voice trembled again.

“And then I think about her sitting there today… saying she’s not hungry.”

A hollow laugh escaped her.

“She wasn’t refusing food… she was refusing expectation.”

Silence.

“And Zivah…” Shivani whispered.

Her eyes softened.

“She didn’t question her like I did. She didn’t push. She just… held her hand.”

Her lips trembled.

“Do you know how rare that is?”

Anamika finally spoke.

Softly.

“…yeah.”

Shivani shook her head.

“No… you don’t get it. Zivah saw something I refused to see.”

Her voice dropped again.

“And I almost ruined that for her.”

The room fell quiet again.

But this time,

it wasn’t heavy.

It was… shifting.

Shivani closed the laptop slowly.

Like she had seen enough.

Or maybe,

like she couldn’t take in more without breaking further.

She turned toward Anamika.

And without warning,

she leaned into her.

Holding her tightly.

Anamika wrapped her arms around her immediately.

No hesitation.

No questions.

Just warmth.

“…Mika,” Shivani whispered into her shoulder, her voice fragile.

“What if she was always like this… and I just never looked properly?”

Anamika gently ran her hand through Shivani’s hair.

“Then you look now,” she said softly.

Shivani tightened her grip.

“…I said things I can’t take back.”

“Yes,” Anamika replied honestly.

No sugarcoating.

No softening.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t get to change what you say next.”

Shivani pulled back slightly.

Looking at her.

Her eyes still wet.

“…what if she doesn’t trust me?”

Anamika smiled gently.

“Then you don’t ask for trust.”

A pause.

“You earn it.”

Shivani inhaled slowly.

Trying to steady herself.

“…I’m going to apologize.”

Anamika nodded.

“Good.”

“…not just once.”

Another nod.

“Better.”

Shivani’s voice firmed slightly.

“I’m not going to force anything. I’m not going to pretend we’re suddenly fine.”

She looked down for a second.

“But I’m not going to look at her the same way again.”

Her gaze lifted.

Clearer now.

Stronger.

“…I’m going to understand her.”

Anamika smiled.

“That’s all she needs.”

A small silence followed.

Then,

Shivani sniffed.

“…also.”

Anamika raised a brow.

“…I’m going to protect her.”

Anamika blinked.

Then laughed softly.

“Oh wow. You went from critic to bodyguard real quick.”

Shivani glared at her faintly.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Anamika said, still smiling.

“That’s what makes it funny.”

Shivani pushed her lightly.

“Shut up.”

Anamika pulled her back into a hug.

“Come here.”

They lay down together.

The tension in the room gone.

Replaced by something softer.

Something quieter.

Something… resolved.

And for the first time,

Shivani closed her eyes not with judgment,

but with understanding.

And maybe,

just maybe,

that was the real beginning
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