Chapter 43

Morning sunlight spilled softly through the apartment windows.

Golden.
Warm.
Quiet.

After the chaos of the championship,
after the teasing,
after Zivah’s dramatic public flirting that still emotionally haunted Eraya,
this morning felt slower somehow.

Gentler.

The apartment carried small sounds of domestic life.
The faint clinking of utensils from the kitchen.
The soft rush of water from the balcony.
The distant hum of the city outside.

And honestly,
moments like these had started becoming Eraya’s favorite.

Because for the first time in her life,
silence no longer frightened her.

Before,
silence used to feel cold.
Heavy.
Like waiting for something bad to happen.

But here,
with Zivah,
silence felt alive.
Comfortable.
Like home breathing softly around her.

In the kitchen,
Eraya stood near the stove quietly preparing breakfast.
Her hair loosely tied.
One sleeve rolled slightly upward.
Morning sunlight touching the side of her face softly.

And unknowingly,
she looked peaceful.

Something that still amazed Zivah every time she noticed it.

Meanwhile,
outside in the balcony,
Zivah stood watering Kiki.

Or at least,
attempting to.

“Why does this plant need this much emotional maintenance?”

From inside the kitchen,
Eraya laughed softly hearing her complain.

“She’s a living thing.”

“She’s dramatic.”

“She’s literally standing still.”

“She judges me.”

Eraya shook her head smiling to herself while cutting fruits carefully.

Honestly,
watching Zivah talk to plants like offended rivals had become oddly adorable.

And because Eraya had requested her last night very seriously,
Zivah was now fulfilling “plant duty.”

Though dramatically.

Of course.

“You’re watering too much.”

Eraya called softly from the kitchen.

Immediately,
Zivah looked offended.

“You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you less around Kiki.”

“That hurts.”

“You almost drowned her yesterday.”

“She looked thirsty.”

“She’s a plant.”

“She looked emotionally dehydrated.”

Eraya laughed again.
And Zivah smiled instantly hearing it.

Because honestly,
her mornings had started revolving around that sound now.

Then suddenly,
her phone rang.

Zivah glanced toward the balcony table.

And immediately froze slightly seeing the caller ID.

Mom.

A smile appeared on her face almost instantly.

She picked up immediately.

“Good morning.”

The screen lit up revealing Payal Varma’s face almost immediately.

Elegant.

Warm-eyed.

And very clearly already judging her daughter lovingly.

“Well finally.”

Zivah snorted softly.

“I called you two days ago.”

“That was two whole days ago.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You learned from me.”

Zivah laughed quietly while leaning against the balcony railing.

Payal watched her carefully for a moment.
And immediately noticed it.

That softness.

That quiet happiness in her daughter’s face.

The kind Zivah never used to carry before.

Because before Eraya,

Zivah loved loudly.

Lived loudly.

Laughed loudly.

But happiness?

Real happiness?

That had always looked different.

More temporary.

Less settled.

But now,
there was calmness in her.

And as a mother,
Payal noticed instantly.

“How are things there?”

Zivah glanced instinctively toward the kitchen.

Toward Eraya moving around softly while preparing breakfast.

And unconsciously,
her expression softened even more.

“Good.”

Payal smiled faintly seeing it.

“Very good?”

Zivah rolled her eyes.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

Payal smirked lightly.

“I’m also curious.”

“You’re always curious.”

“Because my daughter got married suddenly and refuses to properly introduce me to my daughter-in-law.”

At that,
Zivah’s expression shifted slightly.

Not uncomfortable.

Just thoughtful.

Because yes,
Payal already knew everything.
About Eraya.
About the marriage.
About why it happened.

And unlike what Eraya feared from the world,
Payal had never once reacted badly.

In fact,
she had sounded relieved.
Happy.
Proud.

Mostly because she knew her daughter.

And she knew Zivah would never protect someone like this unless her heart was deeply involved.

Still,
despite all that,
Zivah had waited.

Because Eraya still got nervous around people.

Still hesitated around affection sometimes.

Still carried years of fear beneath her softness.

And Zivah never wanted to force her into anything before she was ready.

Payal spoke again after noticing her silence.

Gentler this time.

“I’m not trying to pressure her.”

“I know.”

“I just…”

Her smile softened.

“…want to meet the girl who made my daughter look this happy.”

Something warm moved quietly inside Zivah’s chest at that.

Because she wished Eraya could hear these things herself.

Could understand that not everyone would look at her the way her past had taught her to expect.

Payal sighed dramatically afterward.

“At this point I’m beginning to think she doesn’t exist.”

“She exists.”

“Proof?”

“She waters me emotionally and makes almond milk.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is serious.”

Payal laughed softly.

Then after a pause,
she asked carefully,

“Can I talk to her today?”

Zivah stilled slightly.

Not because she minded.

But because she immediately thought of Eraya.

Of the way uncertainty still lived inside her quietly.

So instead of answering immediately,
she said softly,

“Wait.”

Then after a second,

“I’ll ask her.”

Payal’s expression softened instantly.

“Only if she’s comfortable. She won’t be forced.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

And that was true.

Payal would rather wait months than let Eraya feel cornered.

Zivah stepped back inside the apartment.

The smell of breakfast greeted her instantly.
Warm butter.
Toast.
Tea.
Fruits.

And in the middle of it,
Eraya stood near the counter quietly arranging plates.

The sight alone softened something inside Zivah immediately.

Because sometimes,
she still couldn’t believe this was real.

That someone waited for her in mornings.
Cooked for her.
Looked for her first.
Loved her.

Eraya looked up the moment she noticed her entering.

And immediately paused.

Because something about Zivah’s expression looked hesitant.

“What happened?”

Zivah walked closer slowly.

Not rushing the moment.

“Mom called.”

Eraya blinked lightly.

“…your mother?”

Zivah nodded.

“And?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The movement in Eraya’s hands stopped completely.

Silence.

Not loud silence.

Not awkward silence.

But the kind that carried thoughts underneath it.

Memories.
Fear.
Questions.

And because Zivah knew her so well now,
she noticed immediately.

The tiny stiffness in her shoulders.

The uncertainty behind her eyes.

The way her fingers curled slightly against the kitchen counter.

So instantly,
her expression softened.

” Eraya there’s no pressure.”

Eraya looked down quietly.

“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

Still silence.

And Zivah understood it.

Of course she did.

Because Eraya had spent years being made to feel unwanted.

Judged.
Measured.
Dismissed.

Meeting someone important to Zivah?

Of course it scared her.

So without another word,

Zivah stepped closer.

Then gently pulled Eraya into her arms.

Slowly.
Carefully.
Like she always did whenever Eraya became quiet like this.

“It’s okay.”

Eraya relaxed slightly against her instinctively.

“You don’t have to force yourself.”

Eraya stayed quiet for another moment.

Then softly,
almost hesitantly,
she admitted,

“I want to meet her.”

Zivah listened silently.

“But…”

Eraya’s fingers curled lightly into her shirt.

“…what if she doesn’t like me?”

The sentence came out so quietly.

So honestly.

And something inside Zivah’s chest hurt immediately hearing it.

Because Eraya genuinely believed that was possible.

That someone might look at her and decide she wasn’t enough.

So Zivah tightened her arms around her instantly.

“She’ll love you.”

Eraya didn’t reply.

Didn’t fully believe it yet.

So Zivah gently pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

“She will.”

“…how do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

Simple.
Certain.
Immediate.

And somehow,
those words always settled something restless inside Eraya.

Zivah brushed a strand of hair behind her ear softly.

“And my mother has loved me my whole life.”

She smiled faintly.

“She knows good things when she sees them.”

Eraya’s eyes softened slightly at that.

Still nervous.
Still uncertain.
But calmer now.

Then quietly,
almost shyly,
she nodded.

“…okay.”

And something eased visibly inside Zivah’s face immediately.

Not relief.
More like tenderness.

Because she knew how big this step actually was for Eraya.

Even if it looked small from outside.

So instead of speaking,

Zivah simply kissed her forehead softly.

Lingering there for a second.

And in that moment,
standing in the warmth of their kitchen while breakfast slowly cooled nearby,
something settled quietly inside Eraya too.

Maybe,
just maybe,
not every new relationship had to begin with fear anymore.

The nervousness did not leave Eraya immediately.

Even after saying yes.

Even after Zivah kissed her forehead softly and promised everything would be okay.

It still remained there,
quietly curled beneath her ribs.

Because this was new.

So painfully new.

Being wanted by one person itself still felt unreal sometimes.

But now,

meeting someone important to Zivah?

Someone who loved her?

Someone whose opinion mattered?

That terrified her in ways she couldn’t explain properly.

Still,
despite the fear,
she followed Zivah toward the balcony.

Slowly.
Quietly.

Morning light spilled across the floor.

Warm wind drifted softly through the open balcony doors.

And near Kiki’s little stand,

Zivah’s phone rested against a ceramic pot carefully angled upward.

The video call still continued.

Payal Varma was waiting patiently on screen.

Though patiently was perhaps the wrong word.

Because the moment she saw Zivah returning, her expression immediately lit up with anticipation.

“Well?”

Zivah glanced toward Eraya softly.

Then back toward the phone.

“She’ll talk to you.”

And instantly,
Payal’s entire face brightened.
Actually brightened.
Like someone had handed her happiness directly.

“Oh thank god.”

“Mom seriously.”

“What?”

She gasped dramatically.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”

“You’re acting like I hid state secrets.”

“You DID.”

Eraya stayed half-hidden behind Zivah unconsciously during their conversation.

And unfortunately,
Payal noticed that immediately too.

Noticed the hesitation.

The uncertainty.

The nervousness.

And somehow,
her expression softened even more because of it.

Zivah slowly reached behind herself.

Her fingers finding Eraya’s hand instinctively.

Gently squeezing once.

I’m here.

Always.

That silent reassurance settled something tiny inside Eraya.

Not completely.

But enough.

So finally,
slowly,
she stepped forward.

And entered the frame.

The moment Payal saw her,
she froze.

Actually froze.

Completely silent.

Ten whole seconds passed.

Maybe more.

And immediately,
Eraya’s nervousness worsened.

Because silence had never been kind to her before.

Silence usually meant judgment.
Disapproval.
Disappointment.

Her fingers instinctively tightened slightly around Zivah’s hand.

Meanwhile,
Zivah was already preparing herself to defend Eraya from literally anything,
including her own mother if necessary.

But then,
Payal finally spoke.

“Oh my god.”

Zivah blinked.

“Mom-“

“You did not inform me that you married an angel.”

Silence.

Then Zivah laughed instantly.

Properly laughed.

Relief melting visibly from her shoulders.

Meanwhile,
Eraya stared at the screen in complete surprise.

Because that was not the reaction she expected.

At all.

Payal meanwhile looked genuinely offended now.

“Zivah Varma.”

“Yes?”

“You deprived me of this information.”

“Mom she’s literally standing right there.”

“I know and she’s beautiful.”

“MOM.”

Eraya’s lips parted slightly before a small smile escaped her despite herself.

Tiny.
Shy.
But real.

And the moment Payal saw that smile,
she looked completely gone.

“Oh no.”

Zivah narrowed her eyes.

“What now?”

“She smiles too?”

“Please stop flirting with my wife.”

“I understand your obsession now.”

Eraya let out the softest laugh hearing that.

Still nervous.
Still shy.
But slowly relaxing.

Because somehow,
Payal’s warmth didn’t feel performative.

Didn’t feel forced.

It felt genuine.

And perhaps that was what affected Eraya most.

Payal finally looked toward her properly again.
Softer now.
Gentler.

“Hello sweetheart.”

Eraya blinked slightly at the tenderness in her voice.

Then quietly replied,

“…hello.”

“How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just okay?”

Eraya looked uncertain for a second.
Then softly,

“…good.”

“There.”

Payal smiled warmly.

“That sounds much better.”

Zivah stayed beside Eraya the entire time.

Close enough that their shoulders touched.

Not interrupting.

Just there.

Because she knew this moment mattered.

Deeply.

Eraya hesitated slightly before speaking again.

“How are you… aunty?”

Immediately,
Payal’s expression changed.

Not upset.
Just determined.

“No.”

Eraya blinked.

“…no?”

“Not aunty.”

Silence settled softly.

Payal’s voice gentled after a second.

“You’re my daughter too now.”

Something in Eraya’s chest tightened instantly hearing that.

Not painfully.
Not sharply.

But in that aching emotional way that came when your heart touched something it had been deprived of for years.

Payal continued softly,

“So call me ma.”

The word landed heavily inside Eraya.

Ma.

Simple.
Small.
Common.

Yet suddenly,
it felt enormous.

Because she hadn’t called anyone that in years.
Not genuinely.
Not safely.

The memory of her mother flickered painfully through her mind for a second.

Warm hands.

Soft lullabies.

A fading face she still missed quietly.

And suddenly,
her throat tightened.

Zivah noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

Her thumb softly rubbed against Eraya’s knuckles.

Grounding her gently.

No pressure.

But Payal waited patiently.

Not forcing.

Not rushing.

Just looking at her warmly.

Like she already accepted her.

Like Eraya didn’t need to earn it first.

And maybe,
that was exactly why the word finally slipped out.
Quietly.
Softly.
Almost fragile.

“…ma.”

The moment she said it,
something inside her chest cracked softly.

Not broken.
Released.

And unexpectedly,
her eyes burned slightly.

Meanwhile,
Payal looked genuinely emotional too.

“Oh.”

She smiled softly.

“There we go.”

Zivah turned toward Eraya immediately.

And the moment she saw the slight shine in her eyes,

her own expression softened painfully.

Because she knew.

She knew exactly how difficult that simple word had been.

Payal spoke again gently.

“You have no idea how happy that made me.”

Eraya looked down shyly for a second.

And Zivah felt something warm expand painfully inside her chest at the sight.

Because she looked so small sometimes when receiving affection.

Like she still didn’t know what to do with kindness.

The conversation slowly continued after that.
More naturally now.
More easily.

Payal asked about breakfast.
About college.
About Kiki.
Which somehow led to a ten-minute argument between mother and daughter about plant survival.

“You overwatered it.”

“I emotionally supported it.” Zivah defended.

“That’s not how photosynthesis works.”

“Whose side are you on?”

Zivah asked dramatically looking at Eraya.

Payal immediately pointed through the screen.

“Mine obviously.”

“Traitor.”

Eraya laughed softly watching them bicker.
And slowly,
the nervousness inside her began dissolving.

Because this didn’t feel scary anymore.

It felt warm.

Like sitting near sunlight after years of cold.

At some point,
Payal asked softly,

“Is my daughter taking care of you properly?”

Immediately,
Zivah looked offended.

“Excuse me.”

“I’m asking Eraya.”

“She loves me more.”

“I literally raised you.”

Eraya laughed helplessly at that while Payal groaned dramatically.

“This girl became insufferable after marriage.”

“She was already insufferable.”

Eraya admitted softly before realizing what she said.

Silence.

Then both Zivah and Payal stared at her dramatically.

“You insulted me infront of my own mother.”

Eraya covered her smile immediately.

“You started it.”

“Oh she’s definitely family now.”

Payal declared proudly.

And somehow,
that sentence settled somewhere impossibly deep inside Eraya.

Family.

Not burden.
Not responsibility.
Not obligation.

But Family.

The conversation stretched longer after that.
Far longer than anyone expected.

Payal asked about Eraya’s favorite foods.
Her studies.
Her hobbies.
The books she liked.
Whether Zivah annoyed her daily.
Which received an immediate yes.

“See?”

Payal sighed dramatically.

“I suffered too.”

“Mom!”

“You deserve this.”

And the more they talked,
the more Eraya relaxed visibly.

Until eventually,
she stopped speaking cautiously.

Stopped overthinking every sentence.

Stopped expecting rejection after every small mistake.

Instead,
she simply talked.

And Zivah noticed everything.
Every tiny change.
Every softer smile.
Every quieter laugh.
Every moment Eraya unconsciously leaned closer toward the phone while speaking.

At some point,
Zivah actually stopped talking entirely.

Just stood beside them silently watching.

Watching her mother smile at Eraya warmly.

Watching Eraya slowly bloom beneath kindness.

Watching two people she loved somehow finding each other naturally.

And unexpectedly,
emotion hit her hard.

Because for the first time,
her worlds were touching.

Safely.
Beautifully.

Payal suddenly narrowed her eyes toward the screen.

“Why are you staring emotionally?”

Zivah blinked immediately.

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Eraya glanced toward her then.

And immediately softened seeing the expression on her face.

Because Zivah looked…

peaceful.

Like seeing this moment healed something quietly inside her too.

Eventually,
after nearly an hour,
the call finally began ending.
Though Payal clearly didn’t want to hang up.

“You both better visit soon.”

“We’ll try.”

“No trying.”

She pointed dramatically.

“I need proper hugs.”

“See?”

Zivah sighed.

“Emotionally demanding.”

“Learn from me, Eraya.”

Eraya laughed softly again.
And this time,
the sound came easily.
Naturally.
Without fear attached to it.

Finally,
before disconnecting,
Payal looked at Eraya once more.

Her expression warm enough to make her chest ache again.

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

Eraya nodded softly.

“I will.”

“And take care of my daughter too.”

Eraya glanced instinctively toward Zivah beside her.

Then smiled quietly.

“…always.”

Something visibly melted inside Payal hearing that.

“Good.”

Then after one final dramatic warning to Zivah about overwatering Kiki,
the call ended.

Silence settled softly across the balcony afterward.

Warm morning wind brushing against them gently.

Neither of them spoke immediately.

Then slowly,
Eraya whispered softly,
almost like she still couldn’t believe it,

“She’s really kind.”

Zivah turned toward her.

And the softness in her eyes nearly undid Eraya completely.

“I told you she’d love you.”

And for the first time in a very long time,
Eraya allowed herself to believe maybe she truly could be loved that easily.

Afternoons in the apartment had started becoming unusually peaceful.

Not silent,

because silence implied emptiness.

And this place was no longer empty.

Now it carried life.

The soft ticking of the wall clock.

The occasional wind chime near the balcony.

Kiki existing dramatically in sunlight.

The faint smell of coffee lingering from earlier.

Brownie abandoned sideways on the couch after Zivah had apparently “accidentally” dropped him there.

And in the bedroom,
Eraya was asleep.

Completely asleep.

One arm curled under the pillow.

Hair slightly scattered over her face.

The blanket half slipping because she somehow moved like she was fighting invisible battles in sleep.

Zivah stood near the bedroom door for a whole minute just staring.

Because honestly,
sometimes she still couldn’t believe this was her life now.

There had been a time when she came home to noise.

People.

Friends.

Music.

Practice schedules.

Assignments.

But never this.

Never someone waiting for her.

Never someone whose sleeping face made her chest ache softly with love.

And perhaps the strangest part was,

she had not even realized when Eraya became the center of everything.

Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.

Slowly.
Quietly.
Like rainwater filling an empty place over time.

Her phone vibrating snapped her out of her thoughts.

She glanced at the screen.
And instantly smiled.

“Dad.”

Quickly glancing once more toward the bedroom to make sure Eraya was still asleep,

she stepped softly into the living room and answered the video call.

The moment the screen connected,

Om Varma appeared dramatically already frowning.

“This is injustice.”

Zivah blinked.

“…hello to you too.”

“No.”

He pointed accusingly.

“Your mother has seen my daughter-in-law before me.”

Zivah snorted immediately.

“Good afternoon, dad.”

“Do not change the topic.”

“You sound personally betrayed.”

“I AM personally betrayed.”

Zivah laughed while dropping onto the couch comfortably.

Om continued dramatically,

“Do you know what your mother has been doing since morning?”

“What?”

“Bragging.”

Zivah grinned immediately.

“That sounds accurate.”

“She called me at factory only to say and I quote- ‘our daughter-in-law is beautiful and sweet and she called me ma.'”

At that,
Zivah softened instantly.

Because hearing it aloud again did something warm to her chest too.

Om sighed theatrically.

“Meanwhile I have not even seen her face properly.”

“She’s asleep.”

Immediately,
his expression shifted.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Zivah smiled faintly.

“She finally slept peacefully after staying awake reading till late.”

Om nodded knowingly.

Then after a second,

his expression softened into something quieter.
Warmer.

“You sound happy.”

The statement settled between them gently.

And perhaps because this was her father,
because he had always understood her beneath all her sarcasm and chaos,
Zivah didn’t deflect this time.

Instead,
she smiled.
Small.
Real.

“I am.”

Om watched her silently for a few seconds after that.

Because fathers noticed things too.

Especially fathers who had watched their daughters grow through every version of themselves.

And he knew.

He knew this softness in her voice was new.

This calmness.

This emotional steadiness.

“You love her very much.”

It wasn’t a question.

Zivah looked down for a moment unconsciously smiling to herself.

Then quietly,

“More than I knew I could.”

Om’s eyes softened immediately.

For a second,
neither of them spoke.

Because sometimes the most important truths arrived softly.

Without performance.
Without grandness.

Then Zivah suddenly laughed under her breath.

“What?”

Om asked.

“She still gets nervous around affection sometimes.”

“That’s expected.”

“But today…”

Her smile softened further.

“…she called mom ‘ma.'”

Om visibly melted hearing that.

“Yeah.”

“She looked so nervous before saying it.”

“And afterward?”

Zivah leaned back against the couch.

Her eyes drifting instinctively toward the bedroom again.

“Afterward she looked…”

She paused.

Trying to find the right word.

“…like someone handed her something fragile she had wanted her whole life.”

Om became quiet at that.

Because he knew pieces of Eraya’s past.

Enough to understand how deeply loneliness could shape a person.

And perhaps that was why seeing his daughter love someone like this satisfied something inside him too.

Not because she got married.
Not because destiny happened.

But because she found someone she genuinely cherished.

Someone who softened her.

Someone she protected with her whole heart.

Om smiled lightly afterward.

“You know…”

“Hm?”

“I told you before.”

Zivah already knew where this was going.

“Dad-“

“No listen.”

He pointed dramatically.

“I said destiny works strangely.”

Zivah laughed softly.

“And you also said I’d eventually fall in love properly.”

“I was right.”

“You’re always suspiciously confident.”

“Because I’m wise.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m your father.”

“That explains a lot actually.”

Om laughed loudly hearing that.
And honestly,
the ease of the conversation reminded Zivah of childhood.
Of safe places.
Of being loved without conditions.

Then slowly,
his expression gentled again.

“So.”

“So?”

“How does all this feel?”

This time,
the question lingered deeper.

Because Om wasn’t asking about marriage.
Or college.
Or relationships.

He was asking about the feeling of being loved back.

And for a second,
Zivah actually struggled to answer.

Because how did she explain this?

How did she explain that before Eraya,
love had always looked loud around her.

People confessed loudly.
Flirted loudly.
Wanted loudly.

But this?

This was different.

This was someone remembering she disliked overly sweet tea.

Someone fixing her collar absentmindedly.

Someone waiting awake when she woke up late.

Someone whispering “drive safely.”

Someone trusting her enough to sleep peacefully in her arms.

So finally,
she spoke softly.

Honestly.

“It feels unreal.”

Om listened quietly.

“She confessed too.”

A helpless smile appeared on Zivah’s face immediately.

“And she loves me.”

The sentence still sounded unbelievable to her somehow.

Like she was saying a miracle aloud.

“She actually loves me.”

Om smiled gently watching his daughter glow from something as simple as reciprocated love.

Then quietly,
almost absentmindedly,
Zivah admitted,

” You know dad to make her fall in love…”

She laughed softly.

“…I kept trying to make her laugh.”

Om stayed silent listening.

“And every single time she laughs…”

Her voice softened further.

“…I’m the one who falls in love.”

The living room became quiet afterward.
Not empty quiet.
Emotional quiet.

Because the truth in her voice was impossible to miss.

Zivah looked down at her hands unconsciously smiling to herself.

“She doesn’t even realize what she does to me sometimes.”

Om’s smile widened.

“What does she do?”

“She exists.”

“That serious?”

“She smiled at me this morning and I forgot where I kept my own wallet.”

Om burst out laughing.

“She’s dangerous.”

“She is.”

Zivah nodded solemnly.

“Very dangerous.”

Then more quietly,

“I can’t imagine a world without her now.”

The honesty in that sentence hit differently.

Because she meant it completely.

There had been a Zivah before Eraya.

Of course there had.

But now?

Trying to picture life without her laugh…

without hearing “zivi” in sleepy voice…

without her reading on the couch…

without tiny hands tugging her sleeve…

without her trusting Zivah enough to rest,

It felt impossible.

And Om understood that too.

He looked at his daughter silently for a moment.

Then smiled with quiet satisfaction.

“You found your person.”

Zivah’s expression softened completely at that.

She had.

Maybe somehow,
in the middle of chaos and pain and accidental destiny,
she really had.

Om leaned back afterward sighing dramatically again.

“Still unfair though.”

“What now?”

“Your mother met her first.”

Zivah laughed immediately.

“You’re jealous.”

“I deserve daughter-in-law privileges too.”

“I’ll ask her after she wakes up.”

“You better.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully.

“And tell her I’m much cooler than Payal.”

“That is factually incorrect.”

“Traitor.”

“You raised me honestly.”

Om groaned dramatically.
Then after another few minutes of teasing and conversation,
the call slowly began ending.

But before disconnecting,
Om spoke softly one last time.

“Take care of her.”

Zivah’s expression gentled immediately.

“I will.”

“And let her take care of you too.”

That made her smile.
Because Eraya already did.
In hundreds of tiny unnoticed ways.

“I know.”

Om nodded.
Satisfied.
Peaceful.

Then softly,

“I’m proud of you.”

The words hit unexpectedly.
Deeply.

And suddenly,

Zivah looked younger somehow.

Not captain.

Not confident flirt.

Not chaos creator.

Just a daughter hearing her father’s pride.

She smiled quietly.

“…thanks dad.”

Then finally,
the call ended.

Silence returned softly afterward.

And instinctively,
Zivah looked toward the bedroom again.

Toward the girl sleeping peacefully there.
The girl who somehow changed everything without even trying.

A smile slowly appeared on her face.
Warm.
Hopelessly in love.

Then quietly,
almost to herself,
she whispered,

“You really ruined my life beautifully, Eraya.”
_________