Chapter 21 – A Seat Beside Her
The bus rattled down the street, dipping slightly as it passed over uneven pavement. Around them, the noise of morning commuters beeping phones, the rustle of newspapers, and faint music leaking from someone's earbuds blurred into a low hum. But where they sat, it was still. Like a small pause in the world.
Nayla didn't move from where her head gently rested against his shoulder.
Just for a moment, she told herself.
One second longer.
Maybe two.
Raka didn't say anything, and she liked that. Most people filled the silence out of nervousness, like they were allergic to stillness. But he had a strange way of matching her rhythm, knowing when to talk, when not to. She never thought someone like him, bright, talkative, full of social energy, could sit so still. It could be quiet. But here he was. Letting her lean into him. Steady. Warm.
She closed her eyes briefly. Just breathing. Just being.
"You don't talk much, do you?" he asked finally, voice low like a secret not meant to travel far.
She didn't move. "Only when it matters," she murmured.
He chuckled, a soft rumble that she felt more than heard. "Guess I must matter, then."
Nayla lifted her head slowly to look at him. His expression was teasing, but his eyes weren't playing. They held something else. Something steady. Gentle. Curious, but never pressing.
"You do," she said.
The words came out before she could measure them, weigh them, or question them.
It surprised them both.
Raka blinked, but didn't make a joke. Didn't make light of it.
And Nayla suddenly became aware of how vulnerable she'd let herself be, looking away, cheeks warming as she turned back to the window. Her heart drummed a little faster in the quiet.
He didn't rush to fill it.
Then, after a beat:
"I'm glad," he said simply.
That was it.
And it was enough.
The bus slowed at the next corner, brakes sighing as red lights blinked overhead. Her stop was coming up. She straightened, suddenly aware of how much space she'd borrowed from him, how natural it had started to feel.
She reached toward the stop request button, but before her fingers could touch it, his hand brushed hers lightly.
Not grabbing. Not holding.
Just enough to pause her.
"Same bus next Friday?" he asked.
She glanced at him. He looked hopeful, but not expectant. Not assuming.
Like always, he left the door open, but never forced her through it.
She hesitated, then smiled a real, small smile that warmed from somewhere quiet inside her.
"Fate, remember?" she said.
His grin spread instantly. "Then I'll be here."
The bus came to a halt. She stood, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
As she stepped off, she didn't look back.
But Raka watched her go, the same way he always did, like someone memorizing the small details of a moment he didn't want to forget.
And for the first time in a long while, Nayla found herself looking forward to next Friday.
Not because it would be the same.
But because, maybe, something new would begin.