Chapter 22

The drive back home was quieter than usual.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… softer.

The city lights slipped past the car windows in long, blurred streaks,

and for once,

Shivani’s voice, so loud and alive just an hour ago, wasn’t there to fill the silence.

Anamika had gone her way, dragging Shivani along with promises of “notes” that would most definitely turn into gossip within five minutes.

So it was just them.

Zivah and Eraya.

And something unspoken sitting gently between them.

When they entered the apartment,

Zivah didn’t immediately move toward the kitchen or her room like she usually did.

Instead, she turned slightly toward Eraya, her voice softer than usual.

“…you should take a nap.”

Eraya, who had just slipped off her sandals near the door, paused.

Her fingers lingered on the edge of the wall for balance.

“…I don’t sleep in the afternoon.”

Zivah frowned, not in irritation, but in quiet confusion.

“…why?”

It wasn’t an interrogation.

It wasn’t even pressing.

Just… a simple question.

But Eraya’s shoulders stilled.

And that was answer enough.

Her gaze dropped slightly,

her fingers tightening just a little against the fabric of her kurti.

“…I just don’t.”

Zivah held her gaze for a second longer.

Not searching.

Not forcing.

Just… reading.

Then she nodded.

“…okay.”

No pushing.

No “you should.”

No “it’s better.”

Just… acceptance.

And somehow,

that made the silence feel heavier.

They moved around each other in that quiet rhythm they had begun to build.

Zivah freshened up quickly, tying her hair into a loose bun,

while Eraya took a little longer in the washroom, splashing water on her face,

standing there for a moment longer than necessary, as if grounding herself.

When she stepped out, the apartment felt calm.

Still.

Zivah was in the kitchen, pouring herself water, her movements slow, thoughtful.

Eraya didn’t go there.

Instead, she walked into the hall.

The apartment felt different in the evening.

Softer light.

Longer shadows.

The green wall they had painted together now looked deeper, richer, as if it had absorbed something of them.

Eraya’s fingers brushed lightly against it as she walked past.

A faint smile touched her lips.

Just for a second.

And then,

her foot caught the edge of the table.

It was small.

A slight misstep.

But enough.

Her balance shifted.

And her leg hit the wooden edge harder than expected.

A sharp pain shot up instantly.

“…ah-“

The sound slipped out before she could stop it.

Soft.

But enough.

Zivah was there in seconds.

Not rushing blindly,

but fast enough that it felt like instinct.

“Eraya-?”

Her voice had changed.

It wasn’t calm anymore.

It carried something sharper.

Concern.

She reached her, her hands already hovering near her arms,

not grabbing immediately, just making sure she was steady.

“…sit.”

It wasn’t a command.

But it was firm.

Eraya tried to shake her head slightly.

“…it’s okay, it’s nothing-“

” Eraya Sit.”

This time, softer.

But not negotiable.

And somehow,

Eraya listened.

She sat on the couch, her breath uneven, her leg already throbbing where it had hit.

Zivah didn’t ask more questions.

She just turned and walked quickly to the cabinet, pulling out the first aid kit.

Her movements were precise.

Too precise.

Like she was holding something in.

When she came back, she knelt in front of Eraya without a word.

The position felt… strange.

Too intimate.

Too close.

Eraya shifted slightly.

“…you don’t have to, it really doesn’t matter-“

“It does.” Zivah confessed.

The words came out quietly.

But they landed.

Zivah didn’t look up.

Didn’t argue.

Just opened the kit.

“…it matters to me.”

That was all she said.

Eraya didn’t speak after that.

Didn’t know what to say.

Zivah reached for her ankle gently.

Carefully.

Like she expected resistance.

And she got it.

Eraya’s leg tensed slightly, instinctively pulling back just a fraction.

Not rejection.

Just… unfamiliarity.

Zivah paused.

Looked up.

Her voice softened.

“…I’m not going to hurt you.”

Something in the way she said it, steady, quiet, certain,

made Eraya stop resisting.

Just enough.

Zivah’s fingers closed gently around her ankle, lifting her leg slightly onto the edge of the couch.

And that’s when she saw them.

The scars.

Not fresh.

Not dramatic.

But… there.

Small lines.

Faded marks.

Clusters of tiny healed wounds that didn’t belong on someone’s legs like this.

Zivah’s hand stilled.

For just a second.

But inside,

everything shifted.

What is this…?

Her eyes moved slowly across them.

Tracing.

Understanding.

And with every second,
something inside her chest tightened.

Not confusion.

Not curiosity.

Something darker.

Something heavier.

Eraya noticed the pause.

Her gaze dropped immediately.

Her fingers clenched into the fabric beside her.

She didn’t try to explain.

Didn’t try to hide.

She just… looked away.

Zivah didn’t ask.

Not yet.

She just picked up the cream.

Her movements slower now.

More careful.

Her fingers brushing lightly against Eraya’s skin as she applied it.

Gentle.

So gentle it almost didn’t feel real.

Like she was afraid the skin would break under her touch.

Inside her mind,

nothing was gentle.

She walked on this.

Every day.

On these?

Her jaw tightened slightly.

But her hands stayed steady.

Eraya watched her silently.

The way her brows had drawn together.

The way her lips had pressed into a thin line.

The way she wasn’t saying anything.

And somehow,
that silence felt heavier than words.

Zivah wrapped the bandage carefully.

Not rushing.

Not careless.

Every movement deliberate.

As if this,

this small act,

meant something far bigger than just a bruise.

When she was done, she didn’t immediately let go.

Her fingers lingered for a second longer.

Then slowly moved away.

“…how did this happen?”

The question came quietly.

But it wasn’t light.

It carried weight.

Eraya swallowed.

Her voice, when it came, was steady.

But soft.

“…I used to walk.”

Zivah looked up.

“…walk?”

Eraya nodded slightly.

“…from the village to college.”

A pause.

“…and back.”

The words were simple.

Too simple.

For something that wasn’t.

Zivah blinked once.

Like her mind hadn’t fully processed it.

“…every day?”

Eraya nodded again.

“…yes.”

Something in Zivah’s chest dropped.

Hard.

“…why?”

The word came out sharper than she intended.

Not anger at her.

But at the situation.

At everything that led to this.

Eraya’s fingers tightened again.

Her gaze still not lifting.

“…Uncle agreed to let me study.”

A pause.

“…but he said there would be no support.”

Her voice didn’t break.

Didn’t shake.

It just… existed.

“…I had to manage everything myself.”

Zivah stared at her.

Really stared this time.

Trying to understand how someone could say something like that,

so simply.

Like it was normal.

Like it didn’t matter.

“…it’s far.”

Zivah said slowly.

“…that distance is not… small.”

Eraya gave a faint nod.

“…I know.”

“…and you walked it.”

“…yes.”

Silence filled the room again.

But this time,

it wasn’t soft.

Zivah’s mind raced.

Images forming without permission.

Eraya walking alone.

Morning after morning.

Evening after evening.

On those same roads.

On those same legs.

Until they looked like this.

“…did it hurt?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Quieter now.

Almost careful.

Eraya’s lips curved slightly.

Not into a smile.

Just… something softer.

“…yes.”

A pause.

“…a lot.”

Her fingers pressed lightly into her own palm.

“…my legs used to ache badly.”

Another pause.

“…they still do sometimes.”

She shrugged faintly.

“…I got used to it.”

That was it.

That sentence.

That simple, quiet sentence,

I got used to it.

Something inside Zivah snapped.

Not outwardly.

She didn’t raise her voice.

Didn’t react.

But inside,

it burned.

Used to it?

Used to pain like this?

Her jaw clenched.

Her fingers curled slightly against her palm.

But when she stood up,

her face was calm.

Too calm.

She picked up the first aid kit.

Closed it.

Placed everything back exactly where it belonged.

Her movements controlled.

Measured.

Eraya watched her go.

Something in her chest tightening.

Not from pain.

But from the silence that followed.

Zivah didn’t turn back immediately.

Didn’t say anything more.

But her mind,

her mind wasn’t quiet.

She walked alone.

She was hurt.

And no one…

Her chest rose slowly.

Then fell.

She placed the kit back.

Closed the cabinet.

And stood there for a second longer than needed.

Not because she didn’t know what to do.

But because she knew,

if she turned around too quickly,

something in her expression might give away everything she was holding back.

And she wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

So she stayed there.

For a moment.

Letting the anger settle into something quieter.

Something steadier.

Then finally,

she turned back.

And walked toward Eraya again.

Slower this time.

But with something different in her eyes.

Not just concern anymore.

Something deeper.

Something… protective.

And without saying it out loud,

a quiet promise settled inside her.

No more walking alone.

Zivah had just stepped a few paces away.

Not far.

Just enough to put a little distance between herself and everything she had just heard.

Everything she had just felt.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the kitchen counter,

grounding herself in something solid, something ordinary,

because what Eraya had told her did not feel ordinary at all.

It felt… unbearable in its simplicity.

I got used to it.

The words kept echoing.

And she was still trying to understand how someone could say that about pain, like it was just another routine.

“…Zivah.”

The voice was soft.

Almost hesitant.

But it stopped her.

Completely.

Zivah turned slowly.

Eraya was still seated on the couch, her hands resting lightly in her lap,

her posture composed, but there was something uncertain in the way her fingers curled slightly into themselves.

Like she wasn’t sure if she should have said anything at all.

“…there’s something else.”

Zivah didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t rush her.

She just… waited.

Eraya’s gaze dropped again.

Not out of fear.

Just habit.

“…the reason I don’t sleep in the afternoon…”

She paused.

Not because she didn’t know what to say,

but because she wasn’t used to explaining herself.

“…I was never allowed to.”

Zivah’s breath stilled.

Just slightly.

“…it used to get late by the time I reached the haveli,”

Eraya continued, her voice even, almost detached,

like she was narrating something that belonged to someone else.

“…and then there was work.”

A small pause.

“…cooking for everyone.”

Another pause.

“…cleaning sometimes.”

Her fingers tightened just a little.

“…so I never really had time to rest.”

Silence followed.

But this silence,

was different.

It wasn’t empty.

It was heavy.

Zivah didn’t respond immediately.

Couldn’t.

Because something inside her had shifted again.

Deeper this time.

Not just anger.

Not just disbelief.

Something quieter.

Something that ached.

She walked that far…

And still had to work…

And still… no rest?

Her jaw tightened.

Her gaze dropped for a second, just to steady herself.

Because if she looked at Eraya right now,

she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide what she was feeling.

Eraya noticed the silence.

Noticed the way Zivah had gone still.

The way her shoulders had tensed ever so slightly.

And something inside her twisted.

I shouldn’t have said that.

Her fingers curled into her palm.

“…Zivah,” she said softly,

almost carefully, like she was stepping around something fragile,

“…you don’t have to be so worried.”

There was no complaint in her tone.

No expectation.

Just… a quiet attempt to ease something she thought she had caused.

Zivah looked up then.

Really looked at her.

And something in her expression changed.

She walked back slowly.

Not hurried.

Not frantic.

Just… certain.

She stopped in front of Eraya, and sat beside her,

then gently reached for her hand.

Her fingers closed around it softly.

Warm.

Steady.

Grounding.

“…I am worried.”

Her voice was quiet.

But it held something firm beneath it.

Not panic.

Not overreaction.

Just truth.

“…and I should be.”

Eraya stilled.

Her gaze lifted slightly.

Meeting Zivah’s for a brief moment.

“…because what you went through wasn’t okay.”

Zivah continued, her thumb brushing lightly against the back of Eraya’s hand.

“…and I know I can’t change any of that.”

Her voice softened further.

“…I can’t go back and fix those days.”

A pause.

“…but we can change what happens now.”

Eraya’s breath caught slightly.

Not visibly.

But enough.

Because no one had ever said something like that to her.

Not like this.

Not with this kind of… certainty.

Zivah leaned slightly closer, her tone gentler now.

“…we can rewire it.”

The word sounded unfamiliar.

But comforting.

“…those habits… those patterns… they don’t have to stay the same.”

She tilted her head just a little.

“…and we start small.”

A faint pause.

“…with a nap.”

For a moment,

Eraya didn’t respond.

Because something inside her resisted.

Not the idea itself,

but the unfamiliarity of it.

Rest.

Without permission.

Without guilt.

Without consequence.

Her fingers tightened slightly in Zivah’s hold.

“…I don’t know how.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Soft.

Almost embarrassed.

Zivah didn’t smile.

Didn’t tease.

She just nodded.

“…that’s okay.”

Her grip softened just a little.

“…you don’t have to know.”

A pause.

“…you just have to try.”

There was something in the way she said it,

that didn’t leave room for doubt.

Not pressure.

Not force.

Just… reassurance.

Eraya looked at her for a second longer.

Then slowly,

she nodded.

The bedroom felt quieter than usual.

The curtains half-drawn, letting in just enough light to soften the space.

The bed neatly made.

Familiar now.

But still… new in a way.

Eraya sat down slowly.

Her movements careful,

like she wasn’t fully convinced she belonged there.

Zivah stood nearby, watching quietly.

Not hovering.

Just… present.

“…lie down,” Zivah said gently.

Eraya hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Then did.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if the act itself required permission.

She adjusted the blanket, her blanket, over herself.

Her fingers lingering on its edge for comfort.

For familiarity.

Zivah didn’t leave.

Instead, she moved closer.

Sat at the edge of the bed.

Near her legs.

Eraya noticed.

Her brows furrowed slightly.

“…what are you doing?”

Zivah glanced at her.

Calm.

Simple.

“…I’m going to give you a leg massage.”

Eraya blinked.

Immediately shook her head.

“…no-no, you don’t have to do that.”

Her voice held a quiet urgency now.

“…it’s fine, really, I’m used to-“

Zivah interrupted her softly.

Not sharply.

But enough to stop her.

“…that’s exactly the problem.”

Eraya stilled.

Zivah leaned forward slightly, her voice lower now.

“…you’re used to things that you shouldn’t have had to get used to.”

A pause.

“…and I’m not going to let that stay the same.”

Eraya looked at her.

Really looked.

And for a moment,

she didn’t know how to argue.

“…just this once,” Zivah added quietly.

“…let someone take care of you.”

The words settled somewhere deep.

Somewhere untouched.

Eraya’s resistance faded.

Not completely.

But enough.

She gave a small nod.

Zivah’s hands moved gently.

Carefully lifting her leg, resting it lightly against her lap.

Her touch was warm.

Measured.

When her fingers pressed lightly against the muscles,

Eraya’s breath hitched.

Not from pain.

But from something else.

Something unfamiliar.

The pressure was soft.

Slow.

Intentional.

Zivah wasn’t rushing.

Wasn’t just doing it to finish something.

She was… paying attention.

Feeling where the tension sat.

Where the ache lingered.

Inside her mind,

Zivah was still burning.

How long did she walk like this…

How many days… months… years…

But her hands,

remained gentle.

Eraya lay still.

At first, her body tense.

Uncertain.

Waiting.

As if expecting the moment to end.

Or change.

Or… disappear.

But it didn’t.

The movements stayed steady.

Rhythmic.

Careful.

And slowly,

something inside her began to loosen.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

Just… little by little.

The ache that had lived in her legs for so long,

so constantly,

that she had stopped noticing it fully,

began to ease.

Her fingers relaxed against the blanket.

Her shoulders softened.

Her breathing slowed.

This feels… different.

The thought came quietly.

Almost hesitant.

It doesn’t hurt.

Her eyes fluttered slightly.

Why does it feel like this…?

Zivah noticed the shift.

The way her muscles were no longer resisting.

The way her breathing had changed.

And something inside her softened.

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t break the moment.

Just… continued.

Eraya’s thoughts drifted.

Not sharp anymore.

Not heavy.

Just… floating.

I don’t remember the last time…

She paused.

Because she genuinely didn’t.

…the last time I felt this… light.

Her grip on the blanket loosened further.

Her eyelids growing heavier.

Zivah’s hands slowed slightly.

Not stopping.

Just easing.

And then,

without realizing,

Eraya slipped Into sleep.

Not restless.

Not shallow.

But… deep.

Her first afternoon nap.

Not forced.

Not stolen between responsibilities.

Not filled with unease.

Just… rest.

Zivah noticed immediately.

The way her breathing evened out.

The way her body went still, not tense, not guarded, just… calm.

She stopped.

Slowly.

Carefully lowering her leg back onto the bed.

Making sure not to disturb her.

For a moment,

she just sat there.

Looking at her.

The softness in her face.

The absence of worry.

The quiet that had finally settled.

And something in Zivah’s chest tightened again.

But this time,

it wasn’t anger.

It was something gentler.

Something deeper.

A quiet realization.

She never had this.

Zivah reached forward slowly.

Pulling the blanket up just a little more around her.

Tucking it in gently.

Then she sat back.

Not leaving.

Not yet.

Just… watching.

As if making sure,

this moment,

this rest,

stayed untouched.
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