Chapter 30

The phone barely rang twice before it was picked up.

“…hello?”
Parvati’s voice came through-
soft, but alert.

Zivah didn’t waste a second.

“…Di-“
Her voice broke slightly.
“…is Eraya allergic to something?”

There was a pause.

Not long-
but heavy.

“…what happened?”
Parvati asked immediately, her tone shifting from calm to sharp concern.

Zivah turned, looking back at the bed.

Eraya lay curled slightly under the blanket,
her face flushed, her breathing uneven.

“…she-she suddenly threw up,” Zivah said, words rushing now.
“…she woke up in the middle of the night, ran to the washroom and throwed up… and she’s burning, Di-she has a fever and I-I don’t know what to do-“

Her voice trembled despite her trying to keep it steady.

On the other end,
Parvati inhaled sharply.

“…what did she eat last?”

Zivah blinked.

“…we had pizza… and then-“
She paused.

Her mind replayed the evening.
The laughter.
The teasing.
The cheesecake.

“…peanut caramel cheesecake.”

Silence.

The kind that isn’t empty,
but filled with something heavy.

“…Zivah.”
Parvati’s voice dropped.

“…yes?”

“…Eraya is severely allergic to peanuts.”

The words didn’t land immediately.

They hovered,
hung,
refused to sink in.

“…what?”
Zivah whispered.

“…she’s allergic,” Parvati repeated, slower this time.
“…very allergic. Whenever she has peanuts, her body reacts badly. She gets sick… high fever… sometimes worse if not handled properly.”

Zivah’s fingers tightened around the phone.

Her gaze snapped back to Eraya.

Her chest dropped.

“…no…”

Her voice came out hollow.

“…she ate it.”

“…did you not know?” Parvati questioned.

“…no.”

A pause.

Then,
hesitantly

“…did… she know?”

Parvati didn’t answer immediately.

“…yes.”

That word,

hit harder than anything else.

Zivah’s breath caught.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“…she knew?”

“…yes, Zivah.”

Silence.

The question came before she could stop it-

“…then why did she eat it?”

Her voice was softer now.
Not angry.
Not accusing.

Just… confused.

Parvati exhaled slowly.

“…because you asked her to.”

Zivah’s world stilled.

The kitchen.
The dim light.
The quiet hum of the night.

Everything faded for a second.

“…I didn’t-“
Her voice cracked.
“…I didn’t force her-“

“…you didn’t have to.”
Parvati said gently.
“…Eraya doesn’t refuse easily. Especially not when someone offers her something with care.”

Zivah closed her eyes briefly.

Images flashed.

“just one bite.”
“it’s important.”
“try.”

Her stomach twisted.

“…I didn’t know…”
She whispered.

“…I know.”
Parvati’s voice softened.
“…and she knows that too.”

But it didn’t make it lighter.

Zivah’s gaze returned to the bed.

Eraya shifted slightly.

A faint discomfort crossing her face even in half-sleep.

Something in Zivah’s chest clenched painfully.

“…she got sick because of me.”

“…she got sick because she didn’t want to say no,” Parvati corrected gently.
“…don’t turn this into blame. Focus on helping her. It’s not your fault Zivah”

Zivah swallowed hard.

“…tell me what to do.”

This time,
her voice was steady.

Not because she wasn’t shaken,
but because she had something to hold onto now.

Parvati nodded,

“…okay, listen carefully.”

Zivah moved quickly,
grabbing a notebook from the counter without even thinking,
though she didn’t end up writing anything.
She just listened.

“…you need to make something light for her stomach. No heavy food. No oil. She can’t take medicine right now, not after throwing up.”

“…okay. What should I make?”

“…there’s a simple soup I make when she reacted like this.”

Zivah straightened slightly.

“…what do I need?”

“…water, ginger, a little bit of salt… if you have turmeric, add a pinch. And if there are any light herbs-coriander, mint-you can add those too.”

Zivah was already moving.

Opening cabinets.
Pulling things out.

“…how much ginger?”

“…just a small piece. Don’t make it too strong.”

“…okay.”

Her hands moved faster than her thoughts now.

Peeling.
Chopping.
Lighting the stove.

“…let it simmer slowly,” Parvati continued.
“…don’t rush it. Let the flavors settle.”

Zivah nodded, even though she couldn’t see her.

“…and Di-“
She hesitated.

“…yeah?”

“…will she be okay?”

The question was quiet.

Parvati’s voice softened further.

“…she will. She’s strong. But she’ll need care tonight. Stay with her.”

Zivah glanced back again.

“…I’m not leaving.”

“…I know you won’t.”

A small silence followed.

Then,
Parvati spoke again.

“…don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Zivah let out a faint, shaky breath.

“…I made her eat something that hurt her.”

“…you gave her something with care. She accepted it with trust.”

“…and it made her sick.”

“…and now you’re taking care of her. That matters more.”

Zivah didn’t reply.

But her hands slowed slightly.

The boiling water simmered softly now.

The scent of ginger and herbs rising gently.

“…keep me updated,” Parvati said softly.

“…I will.”

“…and Zivah?”

“…yes?”

“…she didn’t eat it because she was careless.”

A pause.

“…she ate it because it came from you.”

Zivah’s throat tightened.

She looked toward the room again.

At the girl lying there,
unaware,
trusting,

“…I won’t let this happen again.”
She whispered.

“…I know you won’t.”

The call ended.

But the weight of it stayed.

Zivah stood in the kitchen for a moment longer-
watching the soup simmer-
her thoughts finally catching up to her actions.

The guilt.
The realization.
The quiet understanding of how deeply Eraya trusted her,
even at her own cost.

She closed her eyes briefly.

Then opened them again.

Picked up the spoon.

And stirred gently.

This time,
not just with care,

but with a promise.

The soup had finished simmering, but Zivah still stood there for a second longer than necessary.

The steam rose in soft curls.
The scent-warm, grounding, gentle.

She held the bowl carefully in both hands.

This has to help.

Her steps were quieter when she walked back to the room.
Slower.
Measured.

As if any sudden movement might make things worse.

Eraya was still lying there,
but not asleep.

Her brows were faintly furrowed.
Her breathing uneven.

Zivah’s chest tightened again.

“…hey.”
She said softly.

Eraya’s eyes opened slowly.

“…Zivah…”

Her voice was weak.
Barely above a whisper.

Zivah placed the bowl down quickly and moved closer.

“…I made something. You need to sit up.”

Eraya tried to push herself up,
but her body didn’t fully cooperate.

Zivah didn’t wait.

She slipped one arm behind her back,
the other gently supporting her shoulder,
lifting her carefully.

“…easy… don’t rush.”

Eraya leaned slightly into her.

That alone,
felt heavier than it should have.

Zivah adjusted the pillow behind her,
making sure she was comfortable,
then picked up the bowl again.

“…you have to drink this.”

Eraya looked at it.

Then shook her head faintly.

“…I don’t feel like it…”

Her voice held that quiet resistance.

Not stubborn,
just… tired.

Zivah softened immediately.

“…I know.”
She said gently.
“…but your body needs it.”

Eraya turned her face slightly away.

“…later…”

Zivah exhaled slowly.

Then shifted a little closer.

“…Eraya… look at me.”

Slowly-
Eraya did.

Zivah’s gaze didn’t waver.

“…just a little. Not all of it at once. I’ll stay here. I won’t go anywhere.”

A pause.

“…okay.”

Eraya hesitated.

Then nodded faintly.

Zivah picked up the spoon.
Blew on it lightly.

“…small sips.”

She held it near her lips.

Eraya opened her mouth slightly.

The first spoonful went in.

She swallowed slowly.

Zivah watched her closely.

“…good.”
She murmured.
“…one more.”

It was slow.

Careful.

Each spoonful,
given with patience.

No rush.
No pressure.

Just presence.

Eraya leaned a little more into her as the minutes passed.

Her body relaxing just slightly,
just enough to accept.

“…you’re doing well.”
Zivah whispered.

“…it’s bitter…”
Eraya murmured faintly.

“…I know.”

“…you made it?”

“…yes.”

A small pause.

“…it’s okay then.” Eraya smiled faintly.

Zivah stilled.
Just for a second.

Then continued.

Little by little-
the bowl emptied.

Zivah didn’t even realize when it was done.

She just noticed,
Eraya wasn’t resisting anymore.

“…finished.”
She said softly.

Eraya let out a small breath.

Zivah set the bowl aside.

Then reached for the medicine.

“…you need to take this now.”

Eraya didn’t argue this time.

Zivah handed her the tablet,
held the glass steady,
watched until she swallowed it.

Only then,
did she let herself breathe a little easier.

“…you should rest.”
She said gently.
“…your body needs it.”

Eraya didn’t respond.

She just looked at her.

For a moment,
longer than usual.

Then,
unexpectedly,

she leaned forward.

And wrapped her arms around Zivah.

Zivah froze.

Completely.

Because Eraya didn’t do this.
Not like this.
Not first.

Her hands hovered for a second,
unsure,

Then slowly,
they came up.

Holding her.

Carefully.

“…hey…”
She whispered.

Eraya’s grip tightened slightly.

Her face pressed into Zivah’s shoulder.

And then,
in a voice that sounded half-awake,
half somewhere else,

“…when I used to get sick…”

Zivah stilled again.

“…no one came.” She continued.

Her breath caught.

“…I used to wait…”
Eraya murmured against her.
“…thinking someone will come… someone will ask…”

Zivah’s arms tightened instinctively.

“…but no one did…”

Her voice grew softer.

Fading.

“…I used to fall asleep like that…”

Zivah closed her eyes.

“…waiting…”

Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of Zivah’s shirt.

“…in the morning…”

A faint breath.

“…I used to pretend I was dead…”

Zivah’s chest constricted painfully.

“…so maybe… someone would come…”

Silence.

“…and cry for me…”

Her voice cracked faintly.

“…but no one did…”

Zivah couldn’t breathe for a second.

Her arms wrapped tighter around her,
instinctively,
as if holding her closer could rewrite that past.

As if,
if she held her enough,
the world would undo what it had done.

“…I’m here.”

She whispered.

But Eraya had already gone quiet.

Her body relaxed.

Her breathing softened.

She had fallen asleep,
still holding onto her.

Zivah didn’t move.

Not for a long time.

She just sat there,
holding her,
feeling the weight of every word that had just been said.

And something inside her,
Something shifted.

Deep.

Irreversible.

She slowly moved,
just enough to look at her face.

Eraya looked peaceful now.

But her grip,
remained.

Zivah’s hand came up,
gently brushing her hair back.

Her fingers lingered there.

“…you waited for someone…”

She whispered softly.

“…and no one came.”

Her voice trembled,
but she didn’t stop.

“…But I’m here now.”

A pause.

“…and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her hand moved down,

resting lightly against Eraya’s cheek.

“…do you know what you’ve done to me?”

A soft, almost breathless exhale.

“…I never thought I could feel like this.”

Her eyes softened completely now.

“…I never thought I’d… love someone.”

The word came out quietly.

But it didn’t feel uncertain.

“…but you walked into my life… and suddenly…”

She smiled faintly.

“…everything changed.”

Her thumb brushed gently against Eraya’s skin.

“…the way you smile…”
“…the way you try to be strong…”
“…the way you say thank you for the smallest things…”

Her voice softened even more.

“…And every time you laugh…”

She whispered.

“…God I fall a little more.”

Her eyes glistened faintly.

“…I want to protect you…”
“…from everything that ever hurt you…”
“…from anyone who thinks they can hurt you again…”

Her grip tightened slightly,
gentle, but firm.

“…you don’t have to pretend anymore…”
“…you don’t have to wait anymore…”

She leaned forward slowly.

Pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“…I’ll be there.”

A breath.

“…always.”

Then,
barely above a whisper,

“…I love you.”

The words settled into the quiet room.

Soft.

Certain.

Like something that had been waiting to be said.

She rested her forehead lightly against Eraya’s.

Holding her just a little closer.

As if,
this time,
she would be the one who stayed.

Zivah didn’t move for a long time after Eraya fell asleep in her arms.

Even when her back began to ache,
even when her legs felt numb,
she didn’t loosen her hold immediately.

It was only after a while,
when Eraya’s breathing settled into a deep, steady rhythm,
that Zivah carefully, very carefully, shifted.

“…okay…”
She whispered to herself.
“…slowly.”

She eased Eraya back onto the pillow, adjusting the blanket around her with the kind of care that felt instinctive now.

Her fingers lingered at the edge of the blanket for a second,
as if making sure she was still there.
Still safe.

Then she stood up.

Her body protested immediately,
stiff from sitting too long,
but she ignored it.

She walked to the kitchen.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

She filled a bowl with cold water.
Grabbed a clean towel.

Her movements were slower now,
not because she was tired,
but because she was thinking.

About everything.

She knew.

That thought kept returning.

She knew she was allergic… and still ate it.

Zivah’s jaw tightened slightly.

Not in anger.

But in something deeper.

Why would you do that…?

She exhaled slowly.

“…because you asked her to.”

Parvati’s voice echoed faintly in her mind.

Zivah closed her eyes briefly.

Then shook the thought away.

Right now,
there was only one thing that mattered.

She went back to the room.

Sat beside Eraya.

Dipped the towel into the cold water.
Squeezed it lightly.

Then placed it gently on her forehead.

Eraya stirred slightly.

Zivah immediately softened her touch.

“…shh… it’s okay.”

She adjusted the towel again.

And then,
she stayed.

The night passed in quiet repetition.

Towel dipped.
Placed.
Removed.
Dipped again.

Again and Again.

Time blurred.

Her eyes burned slightly,
her head felt heavy,
but she didn’t stop.

Every few minutes,
her hand would brush Eraya’s cheek.
Check her temperature.

“…come down…”
She whispered once.
“…please…”

And slowly,
very slowly,
the heat began to ease.

Morning came softly.

Light filtering through the curtains.

Eraya stirred.

Her body still felt heavy,
but not like before.

Not burning.
Not aching the same way.

She blinked her eyes open slowly.

For a moment,
she didn’t move.

Then she turned slightly.

And saw her.

Zivah.

Half Sitting beside her,
head tilted slightly,
elbow resting on the bed,
towel still in her hand.

Her eyes closed.

She had fallen asleep like that.

Mid-care.

Eraya stared at her quietly.

She stayed… all night.

A small smile formed on her lips.

Not loud.

Not wide.

Just… soft.

She slowly sat up,
careful not to wake her.

Then quietly slipped out of bed.

Freshened up.

And walked into the kitchen.

She stopped.

Looked around.

And blinked.

“…what…”

The kitchen looked like a small storm had passed through.

Herbs scattered.
A knife left near the board.
Water droplets on the counter.
A pot slightly tilted to the side.

Eraya stepped closer.

Touched one of the herbs.

Then,
she laughed.

Soft at first.

Then a little more.

“…she really tried…”

She could see it.

Zivah standing here,
confused,
trying to follow instructions,
probably panicking,
probably rushing,

All for her.

Her chest tightened.

But not painfully.

Warmly.

No one has ever done this for me…

She slowly began cleaning up,
putting things back in place,
wiping the counter.

Her movements gentle.
Thoughtful.

Back in the room,
Zivah shifted slightly.

Her hand slipped from the edge of the bed.

And,

thud.

“…ow-“

She jolted awake,
half on the floor,
hair a mess,
expression completely disoriented.

“…what-where-“

She blinked rapidly.

Then looked at the bed.

Empty.

Her heart dropped instantly.

“…Eraya?”

She stood up quickly,
nearly tripping again,
and rushed out.

“…Eraya?”

She reached the kitchen,

And froze.

Eraya stood there,
placing something neatly inside the cabinet,
calm.
Normal.

Zivah didn’t even pause.

She walked straight to her,
fast,

“…what are you doing here?”

Her hands were already on Eraya’s face,
checking her forehead,
her cheeks,

“…you should be in bed-why did you wake up-“

Eraya blinked,
caught in the sudden flurry.

“…Zivah-“

“…you had a fever-why didn’t you wake me up-“

Her fingers pressed lightly against her forehead again.

“…it’s lower…”
She muttered.

Then looked at her properly.

“…how do you feel?”

Eraya smiled faintly.

“…better.”

Zivah’s shoulders relaxed,
just a little.

Then,
her expression shifted.

More serious now.

“…are you allergic to peanuts?”

Eraya’s smile faltered slightly.

She nodded.

“…yes.”

A pause.

Zivah exhaled sharply.

“…then why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice wasn’t loud.
But it carried weight.

“…why did you eat that cake?”

Eraya’s fingers stilled.

“…what if something had happened to you?”

There it was.

Not anger.

But Fear.

Raw and unfiltered.

“…do you know how worried I was?”

Eraya felt something tighten in her chest.

Not heavy.

Warm.

Unfamiliar.

“…I…”
She hesitated.

“…you were so excited for me to try…”

Zivah frowned slightly.

“…what?”

“…you wanted me to try it…”
Eraya said softly.
“…you went all the way to get it…”

Her voice dropped slightly.

“…I didn’t want to say no.”

Zivah stilled.

The sharpness in her expression softened.

Her eyes changed.

“…Eraya…”

She sighed.

“…nothing is more important than your health.”

Her voice gentler now.
But firm.

“…not my excitement. Not anything.”

A pause.

“…next time…”
She said slowly.
“…you tell me. Okay?”

Eraya nodded.

“…okay.”

Zivah looked at her for a second longer.

Then,
softened completely.

“…good.”

She reached forward,
lightly ruffling her hair.

Eraya blinked.

Then smiled.

“…now sit.”

“…I can help-“

“…no.”

Zivah pointed toward the stool.

“…sit.”

“…Zivah-“

“…sit.”

Eraya huffed softly.

But obeyed.

Sitting down on the stool.

Zivah turned toward the counter.

“…I’ll make something light.”

“…you don’t have to-“

“…I want to.”

She cut the fruits carefully.
Arranged them neatly in a bowl.

Every movement,
intentional.

Every gesture,
gentle.

Eraya watched her.

Quiet.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the stool.

Her chest still holding that warmth.

She stayed all night…

Zivah turned back.

Placed the bowl in front of her.

“…eat.”

Eraya looked at it.

Then at her.

“…you didn’t sleep.”

Zivah shrugged lightly.

“…I’ll sleep later.”

“…you should have rested.”

“…I’ll rest now that you’re okay.”

A pause.

Their eyes met.

And something passed between them.

Unspoken.

But understood.

Zivah leaned slightly against the counter.

Watching her eat.

And for the first time,

Eraya didn’t feel like she had to earn the care.

She just… accepted it.

Quietly.

Warmly.

Like it belonged to her.

Zivah wiped her hands lightly on the towel and placed the medicine strips neatly on the counter.

“…you need to take these after you finish the fruits.”

Her voice had softened agai,
that same careful steadiness she had been carrying since the night.

Eraya nodded.

“…okay.”

Zivah lingered for half a second,
like she wanted to say something more,
then shook her head slightly.

“…I’m going to freshen up.”

“…hmm.”

She turned,
walking back toward the room,
her steps slower now that the urgency had passed.

And as soon as she disappeared behind the door,

The phone rang.

Eraya looked at it.

Parvati Di.

Her brows pulled together slightly.

“…hello?”

“…Eraya.”

Parvati’s voice came through immediately,
warm,
but threaded with concern.

“…how are you now?”

Eraya frowned slightly.

“…I’m okay…”
A pause.
“…how did you know?”

A soft exhale came from the other end.

“…Zivah called me last night.”

Eraya stilled.

“…she did?”

“…yes.”
Parvati’s voice gentled further.
“…she was worried. She told me everything-how you suddenly fell sick, how you threw up, how you had a fever…”

Eraya’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

“…she called you…”

“…she didn’t know what to do, Eraya.”

A silence followed.

Then,
very quietly,

“…she made you the soup, didn’t she?”

Eraya glanced toward the kitchen instinctively.

At the cleaned counter.
At the faint traces of what had been chaos just an hour ago.

“…yes…”
She murmured.

“…how was it?”

A small smile formed on her lips.

“…a bit bitter…”

Parvati chuckled softly.

“…but you drank it.”

“…all of it.”

“…of course you did.”

A pause.

Then Parvati asked,
more gently this time,

“…what about the cake?”

Eraya inhaled slowly.

“…I ate it.”

“…even though you knew.”

“…yes.”

“…why?”

The question wasn’t accusing.

Just… soft.

Eraya leaned back slightly against the counter.

Her gaze drifting somewhere distant.

“…she was so excited…”

Her voice was quieter now.

“…I’ve never seen someone… that excited for me to try something.”

She swallowed slightly.

“…she kept asking me… like it mattered… like my answer mattered.”

A small pause.

“…I didn’t want to say no.”

Parvati didn’t interrupt.

She just listened.

“…I thought… one bite wouldn’t matter.”
Eraya continued softly.
“…and even if it did… it was okay…”

“…okay?”

“…because it came from her.”

Silence.

Not empty.

Just… full.

“…and now?”
Parvati asked gently.

Eraya looked down at her hands.

“…now I feel…”
She hesitated.

“…different.”

“…how?”

A long pause.

“…I didn’t know what being taken care of feels like.”

Her voice was steady,
but there was something under it.

“…not like this.”

Her fingers curled slightly.

“…all night…”
She whispered.
“…she didn’t sleep.”

Her throat tightened faintly.

“…she kept checking my fever… changing the towel… sitting beside me…”

Her eyes softened.

“…no one has ever done that for me.”

A breath.

“…In the haveli no one even used to ask if I was okay.

Parvati’s chest tightened on the other end.

“…and she-“
Eraya’s voice dropped further.
“…she got scared.”

A small, almost disbelieving smile formed.

“…someone got scared for me.”

Silence again.

But this time,
it carried warmth.

“…Di…”
Eraya said softly.

“…hmm?”

“…I think…”
She stopped.

Her heart was beating faster now.

“…say it.”
Parvati encouraged gently.

Eraya closed her eyes for a second.

Then,
very quietly,

“…I think I’m in love with her.”

The words settled.

Soft.

Uncertain in volume,
but not in truth.

Parvati didn’t react immediately.

Not because she was surprised,
but because she wanted the moment to belong to Eraya.

“…you think?”
She asked gently.

A faint breath left Eraya.

“…no…”
She corrected softly.

“…I am.”

Her lips curved slightly.

“…I am in love with her.”

Parvati smiled.
Warmly.
Deeply.

“…I was waiting for you to say that.”

Eraya let out a small, shy breath.

“…it feels strange…”

“…it’s supposed to.”

“…it feels… soft…”

“…that too.”

“…and a little scary.”

Parvati chuckled softly.

“…that’s the important part.”

A pause.

Then,
Eraya’s expression shifted slightly.

“…but…”

Parvati’s smile faded just a little.

“…what is it?”

Eraya’s fingers tightened again.

“…she might never love me.”

The words came out quietly.

Almost like she didn’t want them to exist,
but they did anyway.

“…why would you think that?”

“…because…”
Eraya hesitated.

“…she’s… everything.”

Her voice was steady,
but there was vulnerability in it.

“…she’s strong… and kind… and she takes care of everyone…”

A faint breath.

“…and I’m…”
She trailed off.

“…you’re what?”
Parvati asked softly.

Eraya looked down.

“…I don’t know.”

Silence stretched.

Then,
Parvati spoke,
firm, but gentle.

“…you are the girl she stayed awake all night for.”

Eraya stilled.

“…you are the girl she panicked over.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

“…you are the girl she called me for because she didn’t know how to help you better.”

Eraya’s chest tightened.

“…and you think that doesn’t mean something?”

A pause.

“…it means she cares.”
Eraya said softly.

“…it means more than that.”

Eraya didn’t respond.

“…love doesn’t always come loudly, Eraya.”
Parvati continued.

“…sometimes it shows up quietly… in the way someone stays… in the way they worry… in the way they choose you again and again without saying it.”

Eraya’s eyes softened.

“…what if I’m wrong?”

“…then you’ll still have something real.”

A pause.

“…and if you’re right…”
Parvati added softly.
“…then you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Eraya exhaled slowly.

Her heart still felt full.

Still uncertain.

But no longer afraid of the feeling itself.

“…Di…”

“…hmm?”

“…I don’t want to lose this.”

Parvati smiled gently.

“…then don’t rush it. Trust it.”

A soft silence followed.

Comfortable.

Safe.

“…just… let it grow.”

Eraya nodded slightly.

“…okay.”

And for the first time,

loving someone didn’t feel like something to hide.

It felt like something to hold.

Carefully.

Quietly.

But completely.
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