silence...

★ Sara's POV ★

As soon as I turned the corner, away from him, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

What the heck was that?

Why did I grab his arm?

Why did I talk like that?

Why did I not recognize him until he looked at me with those wide, terrified, awkward eyes?

I hurried my steps, walking faster than I normally do, even though the evening air was cool and calm. My heart wasn't.

When I introduced myself to him… Asif… I said it casually, like it meant nothing. Like I hadn't been thinking about that rooftop moment over and over again all week.

In reality, I was just… embarrassed.

Not because I bumped into him. Not because I saw him frozen like a little squirrel in front of a shop.

But because of me.

Because I acted like a complete idiot during lunch that day.

Because I stared too long.

Because I forgot his face.

Because I only realized who he was after I'd already scolded him like some angry teacher.

I reached my apartment in no time. Just a small one-room space with a mattress on the floor, a cracked window, and a fan that made weird clicking noises when it rotated.

But it was mine.

I slid the door closed and leaned my back against it.

Silence.

That familiar, heavy silence.

I walked over to the small kitchen corner, dropped the convenience store bag on the counter, and stood there, lost in thought.

I used to live in a two-story house. With a garden. And an automatic gate.

I used to eat dinner with a long table full of people. My "family."

But they were never mine. Not really.

When I was five, my mother died. It was a slow death. The kind that drags and leaves you confused more than sad. I didn't even cry at the funeral. I just stood there holding my dad's hand, watching them lower the only person who ever held me with love.

A year later, my father remarried.

A woman with a pretty face and a daughter three years younger than me.

At first, it was fine. I didn't mind sharing my toys. I didn't mind the girl—Tithi.

But things started changing.

Whispers. Closed doors. My dad smiling less. The house feeling colder.

As I grew older, I learned the truth.

My stepmother was a climber. A woman who married for money and status. Who cheated on her ex-husband for a chance at a richer life.

I stopped trusting her.

Then I stopped trusting him—my father—for bringing her into our lives.

I started locking my door. I started skipping dinner. I started tuning out.

But there was one person I could never fully push away.

Tithi.

She was never part of the mess.

She never lied.

She never judged.

Just a curious little sister with big eyes who always looked at me like I was her hero.

When I turned sixteen and finally got a chance to move away for school, I took it. Didn't even wait for the last family photo.

And now… here I was. Alone. And kind of okay with that.

But not tonight.

Tonight, my phone buzzed on the bedside table.

The screen lit up with one name: Tithi.

I sighed, walking over and picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Sisss" she snapped, sounding like a cat that missed breakfast. "Why didn't you call me this week?! You said you'd tell me about school, remember? Are you eating properly? Are you—"

"I found him," I said.

There was silence on the other end.

A long one.

"…Huh?" her voice softened. "Found who?"

I sat down on the mattress, hugging my knees, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Asif."

Another pause. Longer. Heavier.

"…Oh," she finally said.

She didn't ask how.

She didn't ask what happened.

She didn't even ask what I was going to do.

Because I knew.

I knew what that name meant to her.

I closed my eyes, still hugging my knees.

The fan kept clicking in the background.

And for the first time in a while…

My empty room felt a little more complicated.