The door clicked softly behind us, shutting out the distant hum of voices from the house. The quiet was sudden, almost startling, and it pressed gently against the skin, the difference from the bustling hall leaving a strange, intimate tension in the room.
Ali leaned against the doorframe, his posture casual, but there was a tautness in the line of his shoulders. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, then quickly away, like he was measuring how much to reveal, how much to keep in the careful shadows between us.
I let out a small, soft sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Well… it's quiet now," I said, my voice low, a teasing lift in it. "Much quieter than the chaos out there. Almost too quiet."
He didn't answer immediately. His fingers flexed against the edge of the desk, his gaze momentarily falling to the floor. "It's… complicated," he murmured, voice low, careful.
I blinked, tilting my head slightly, curious. "Complicated?" I echoed, letting the word linger in the air, watching him.
"Yes," he said, meeting my eyes for a fleeting moment before looking away. "I… I can't explain everything right now. Not yet. But… it's important."
I leaned back against the wall, letting a small, playful smile curl on my lips. "Important, huh? Sounds serious," I said softly, letting my voice drift between amusement and curiosity. "You're always so serious, Ali. Even now, you're all stiff and… careful. Why?"
He shifted slightly, his hands tightening briefly at his sides. "Because I… don't want to make things worse. Or… mess it up. With you."
My chest fluttered, a small, involuntary warmth rising to my cheeks. His voice, so low, careful, deliberate—it carried more weight than any words should. I tried to hide my reaction, but my fingers fidgeted in my lap anyway.
"I see," I said softly, my lips curving into a subtle grin. "So… you're serious because I'm delicate?" I teased lightly, letting a small laugh escape me, though it was quieter than usual, more gentle, more intimate.
He didn't respond immediately, just glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Finally, he said, quietly, "I'm serious because it's… complicated. And I don't want to hurt you, or… overwhelm you. That's all."
I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. I could feel my heartbeat thrum in my chest, an insistent, delicate rhythm that seemed louder in the quiet room. "Complicated…" I repeated softly, almost to myself. "Hmm. That's… a big word for such a small space, don't you think?"
He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile at that, the faintest crease at the corner of his lips. "Maybe," he murmured. "But… some things are bigger than they look. Some things… can't be explained in simple words."
I leaned forward slightly, letting the soft curve of my smile meet his gaze. "You sound mysterious," I said quietly, almost teasingly. "A little dangerous, even."
He looked at me then, really looked, his seriousness softening just a fraction, though the tension remained. "I'm not dangerous," he said, low and careful. "I just… care. Too much."
My chest fluttered again, a small, almost imperceptible warmth spreading through me. "Care too much," I repeated, letting the words linger, tasting them softly. I let out a small laugh, quieter this time, intimate, almost like a secret. "Sounds… dangerous enough to me."
He shifted closer, though still careful, maintaining just enough distance to keep the tension delicate, charged. "I… I just don't want you to feel pressured. Or… trapped," he said softly, almost hesitantly. "That's all I'm trying to avoid."
I let out a soft sigh, leaning my head back against the wall, letting my eyes drift to his face. "I see," I said again, softly, quietly, with a hint of playfulness. "You're serious. Careful. Worried about me. That's… new."
He gave a faint nod, eyes flickering away from mine. "Not new… I've always been careful. But… it matters more now."
I tilted my head, softening my expression, letting the teasing fade into something quieter, more reflective. "Now… huh?" I murmured. "You make it sound… heavy."
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing slightly. "It's heavy," he admitted softly. "But… it's not a weight I want to carry alone. I just… don't know how to… share it without making it worse."
I shifted closer, leaning forward slightly, letting my gaze meet his. "Ali," I said quietly, almost gently, "you don't always have to carry everything. You can… share it. Even if it's… complicated."
He blinked at me, a faint flicker of surprise in his eyes, before he looked away again. "I… I want to," he admitted softly. "I just… can't. Not yet. Soon… I promise, I'll tell you everything."
My chest fluttered again, and I let a small, quiet smile touch my lips. "I'll wait," I said softly, letting my tone be gentle, patient. "I can wait. For you."
He finally met my gaze then, eyes soft, hesitant, but sincere. "Thank you," he murmured. "For… understanding. And… for… not pushing."
I only nodded, letting the silence stretch between us. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't tense in a bad way. It was… delicate. Intimate. Charged with unspoken feelings and fragile trust. My heartbeat hummed softly in my ears, a quiet flutter every time his gaze lingered too long, every time he shifted slightly closer, yet maintained just enough distance to keep the moment tender.
He let out a low, almost humorless laugh, the sound soft in the quiet room. "I… I don't want to overwhelm you," he said, voice low, careful. "Not you. Not now. Not ever."
I tilted my head slightly, my gaze lingering on his face, memorizing the way the light fell across his features. "Then… just stay like this," I whispered softly. "Quiet, serious, careful… but here."
His eyes softened further, and I saw the faintest curve of a smile, almost imperceptible. "Here," he repeated, the word low, deliberate, carrying weight I couldn't name.
The room settled around us in a gentle quiet, delicate and intimate. Nothing needed to be said for a long moment. My heartbeat fluttered against my ribs, small, warm, insistent. His presence was steady, careful, yet alive with unspoken emotion.
And in that quiet, in that shared stillness, the moment stretched, fragile and tender. There was tension, yes, but it wasn't suffocating—it was electric, warm, delicate, charged with something neither of us dared to name aloud yet.
I reached out, almost without thinking, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. He caught the movement with a faint, careful glance, not moving, but letting his eyes linger. My heart fluttered again.
"I… I think I could get used to this," I said softly, almost to myself. "Quiet moments. Just us."
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a careful breath, letting the weight of the moment settle. Finally, he murmured, "Soon… I'll make it right. I'll explain. All of it."
I smiled faintly, soft and quiet. "I'll wait," I whispered again. And for the first time, the quiet felt full—not empty, not heavy, but delicate, warm, alive with possibilities.
In that fragile space, our hearts fluttered in quiet harmony, unspoken, delicate, tentative… yet utterly ours.
The quiet of the room pressed gently around us, a soft cocoon against the distant hum of the house. I shifted slightly on the chair, letting my hands rest loosely in my lap, trying to keep my heartbeat from betraying the fluttering warmth I felt every time Ali's gaze lingered a little too long.
He leaned against the desk, careful, deliberate, the faint tension in his posture softened only slightly by the gentle light spilling through the window. "You… don't have to say anything," he murmured softly. "You can just… be here. Quiet."
I gave a small, soft smile, letting it linger. "I like quiet," I whispered, almost a secret, letting the words float gently. "It's… nice. Peaceful."
He studied me for a moment, eyes careful, measured, and I felt the subtle warmth in the way he watched me. "You… seem.." he said quietly, voice low, deliberate. "Calmer. But… your eyes… they're still… full of mischief."
I let out a soft laugh, delicate, almost hushed, letting it brush against the quiet space between us. "Mischief… maybe," I murmured, tilting my head slightly. "Or maybe… just curiosity. You know… trying to figure out… what everyone is up to while I'm not looking."
Ali's lips pressed into a thin line, subtle tension in his jaw. "Curiosity can be dangerous," he said quietly, almost a warning. Yet the way his eyes softened as they met mine betrayed more than his words.
I leaned back slightly, letting the soft light catch the edges of my face, faint warmth stirring in my chest. "Dangerous?" I whispered, teasing just lightly, hushed. "You sound like you're trying to scare me."
He let out a low, careful sigh, voice soft, restrained. "Not scare… just… protect."
I blinked slowly, letting the words sink in.
Ali's forehead was lined with tension "some things… are complicated. And I don't… want to make it harder for you."
I tilted my head, watching him, quiet. "Complicated," I repeated softly. "Sounds heavy. I nodded slowly, letting the warmth in my chest settle. I paused for a heartbeat, then let my tone soften further. "Though… speaking of complicated… Ahad...."
Ali's eyes flickered just a fraction, sharp but subtle. "Ahad?" he repeated, neutral, measured.
I leaned back slightly, letting a soft smile linger on my lips as I spoke quietly, "Ahad… he was in such a hurry today, running around, . And, of course, he kept making me laugh with those little jokes of his."
Ali's eyes flickered just a fraction, sharp but controlled. He didn't say anything immediately, only watched me—careful, deliberate. And yet, even in his silence, there was that subtle tension, the quiet weight of… something unspoken.
"I swear," I murmured softly, voice hushed, almost a whisper, "he makes the smallest things feel so… alive. Even the boringest parts of school feel… lighter when he's around." I tilted my head slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, my gaze distant yet warm as I recalled the day.
Ali's jaw tightened fractionally, his fingers flexing against his knees, subtle yet unmistakable. He didn't look away, but there was a careful restraint in his posture, as though every ounce of him was fighting to stay composed.
"And the way he notices everything," I continued softly, letting my voice float gently between us, "even tiny details about me… it's… nice, I guess. Funny, really. How someone can make you feel… so… seen."
Ali's eyes flickered lower for a heartbeat, then rose to meet mine again. There was a faint shadow over his expression, a delicate ache I could almost feel from where I sat. He said nothing, just let the moment stretch—quiet, measured, careful.
I noticed, but I didn't understand. I just smiled softly to myself, calm and gentle, unaware of the silent storm beneath Ali's gaze. "And… he has this way of teasing, you know? Light, playful. Always makes me laugh, even when I'm grumpy." I let out a soft, hushed laugh, delicate, like a feather brushing the quiet room.
Ali's lips pressed into a thin line, eyes tracing me with quiet intensity. The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the subtle conflict in him—restrained, careful, yet tender. Every laugh I let slip, every soft sparkle in my eyes, seemed to press against something unspoken in him.
"You… really like him, don't you?" he murmured quietly, low enough that it almost felt like a confession of his own restraint.
I blinked slowly, soft and unaware, tilting my head faintly. "Like him?" I whispered. "I… I think he's… wonderful. Fun. Kind. Honest. Makes the world… brighter, I suppose." I let my words linger softly, calm and gentle, unaware of the tension coiling in Ali's chest.
Ali exhaled softly, careful, letting the quiet settle. "Hm… I can see that," he murmured, voice low, almost tender in its quiet restraint.
I smiled faintly, delicate, hushed. "He's… hard to ignore, really," I whispered. "Even for a moment. He just… lingers, in the smallest ways." My lips curved softly, a gentle warmth in my tone, yet I remained entirely unaware of the storm I had stirred in Ali's heart.
Ali's gaze lingered on me, careful, intense, restrained, yet undeniably soft. Every subtle laugh, every quiet sparkle in my eyes, every gentle word about Ahad pressed against something deep in him, a quiet ache he wouldn't name aloud.
"You… seem happy when you talk about him," Ali said softly, careful, deliberate. His voice carried warmth, restrained, yet heavy with a subtle ache.
I blinked, soft, calm, and tilted my head slightly, a faint laugh brushing my lips. "I am… happy," I whispered. "He… just makes things… brighter. Easier, somehow."
Ali exhaled slowly, low, careful, letting the quiet stretch between us. His gaze softened just a fraction, but the tension remained—silent, subtle, unspoken. He noticed the small quirks of my expressions, the faint sparkle in my eyes, the delicate curve of my smile when I spoke of Ahad, and yet… he said nothing.
"Good," he murmured softly at last, voice low, deliberate. "It's… nice to see you… happy."
I let out a soft, hushed laugh, delicate. "I… I suppose it is," I whispered. "Even if… some people would say it's silly to get so… affected by someone." My tone was calm, gentle, playful in its subtlety, entirely unaware of Ali's quiet, hidden struggle.
Ali didn't reply, only let his gaze linger. His eyes softened, careful, deliberate, yet held an unspoken ache. Every flutter of my words, every delicate smile, every innocent fondness for Ahad pressed gently against the edges of his heart—a quiet, restrained storm he couldn't name, but couldn't ignore either.
And in that hushed, gentle space, the quiet room held us in fragile, intimate tension. My chest fluttered faintly from the delicate warmth of our shared space, my words about Ahad spilling soft and unguarded, while Ali sat still, careful, restrained, and quietly aching, the unspoken weight of feelings between us stretching like a delicate thread—subtle, tender, utterly alive.
The room had settled into a quiet rhythm again, the soft light spilling across the floor, warming the corners of our little world. I leaned slightly forward in my chair, soft, hushed, just letting my gaze rest on Ali, curious but careful.
"Do you… think love…" Alimurmured quietly, hesitant, "is… the kind of thing you just… feel, or… something you… choose?". He exhaled softly, fingers flexing lightly against his knees, voice low, deliberate. "I think… it's both," he murmured. "Sometimes… it hits you without warning. But… the way you act… the way you care… that's a choice."
I tilted my head, soft, delicate. "Choice… hm," I whispered, letting the thought linger. "I suppose… it's strange, isn't it? That someone can make your heart flutter… without even trying." I let a faint, hushed laugh escape me, brushing gently against the quiet air.
Ali's eyes flickered up, careful, measured, yet warm, softening as he studied me. "It is… strange," he murmured quietly. "But… maybe that's what makes it… worth noticing."
I smiled faintly, delicate, hushed. "Worth noticing… hm. I guess… you mean it's… subtle, but… undeniable." I tilted my head again, playful, yet gentle. "Like… a small flame that refuses to die out."
Ali's lips pressed into a thin line, subtle tension threading his jawline. He exhaled softly, voice low, careful. "Yes… exactly like that." His gaze lingered on mine, soft but deliberate, like he was measuring every heartbeat, every flutter of warmth between us.
I let out a quiet laugh, soft, hushed, brushing gently against the intimate rhythm of the room. "And… sometimes it makes you… nervous," I murmured, almost whispering. "Even if… it's just… words, or… moments."
Ali's eyes darkened slightly, softening, almost unreadable. "Nervous… hm," he murmured, deliberate, careful. "Sometimes… that nervousness… tells you more than any words could."
I blinked slowly, soft, delicate. "Hmm… maybe you're right," I whispered. "I never… thought about it that way." I let the words linger softly, hushed, brushing gently against the quiet tension between us.
The conversation continued, soft, hushed, drifting from ideas to fleeting thoughts, teasing possibilities, gentle warmth threading each word, each glance, each quiet smile. The room seemed to hold its breath around us, cocooned in delicate intimacy.
Then, just as a faint laugh escaped me, soft and gentle, I heard my mother calling from outside. "Iman… Beta!"
I blinked, startled softly. "I have to go," I whispered, voice gentle.
Before I could rise, Ali's hand moved—careful, deliberate, yet firm—grabbing mine. My heart skipped, fluttering gently at the sudden, intimate touch.
"Wait," he murmured softly, low, hushed. "Don't… go yet."
I froze, soft, hesitant, unsure, as his other arm came around me, gentle, warm, deliberate, and he hugged me. The warmth pressed against my chest, steady, comforting, intimate, and my breath hitched just slightly, hushed and delicate.
"Ali…" I whispered softly, ad hugged him back,tightly
"I… just…" His voice was low, careful, soft, almost a whisper. "I wanted… to hold you… for a moment."
My chest fluttered gently, soft warmth spreading quietly. I didn't move, didn't resist. I let the moment linger, delicate, fragile, intimate—his presence careful, steady, deliberate, yet utterly alive.
The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the soft hush of the room, wrapping around me. My fingers flexed lightly in his hand, hushed, delicate, yet unaware of the quiet ache and tension lingering just beneath the surface.
And then—a sudden cough at the doorway.
We both froze. My heart skipped violently, and Ali's arms didn't loosen, though his expression remained calm, composed, as if hugs with cousins were… ordinary.
Ahad stood there, phone in hand, wide-eyed, frozen in the doorway. "I—I… oh!" His words stumbled, scattered. "I didn't… I mean—sorry! I was on my phone… I didn't… I—"
I pulled back slightly, blinking in shock, my cheeks flushing violently. The soft warmth of Ali's hug had barely left me, and now… Ahad. My heart skipped again.
Ali's gaze shifted to Ahad, calm, collected, almost unfazed. "Ahad," he said softly, just enough to acknowledge him. His voice carried that quiet, steady authority that made everything feel… normal, even as the air was charged.
"I… didn't knock… I wasn't thinking… I—" Ahad stammered, voice low, flustered, eyes flicking nervously between me and Ali. "I… I'm sorry."
I felt my fingers tighten slightly, the heat of embarrassment curling softly through me. My eyes met Ali's for a fraction, and he gave me a subtle nod, calm, reassuring—as though telling me silently that it was nothing, perfectly normal. But my own heart didn't agree.
"Ahad…" I whispered, barely audible, soft and hushed, cheeks still pink. I felt… exposed, flustered in a way that made my chest flutter faster than it should. "It's… okay," I murmured, voice delicate, quiet.
Ahad's gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat too long, his own cheeks coloring faintly. "I… I really didn't… want to—" He paused, shaking his head as if trying to erase the moment. "I was on my phone, I wasn't… aware…"
The silence stretched for a heartbeat, charged and delicate, before I gently pulled my hand from Ali's. "I… I should… go," I murmured softly, voice almost trembling in that quiet, intimate space. I rose carefully, delicate and shy, the warmth of the hug still lingering in my chest, soft and persistent.
Just then, my mother's voice floated from the hallway, gentle but firm: "Iman… Ahad is here. Come on, beta!"
I cursed softly in my head, a faint internal hiss of frustration. Of course. Now. Why now, when… Ugh.
Ali didn't move, didn't flinch. He simply shifted slightly, letting me slide away from him, calm as ever, eyes steady on mine for just a moment before letting me go. His presence remained… comforting, composed, utterly grounded, as if a hug between cousins—even when seen by others—was nothing extraordinary.
I glanced at Ahad, who was still frozen in the doorway, awkward, embarrassed, but clearly amused despite his fluster. My chest tightened subtly, fluttering in ways I refused to acknowledge even to myself.
"Coming…" I whispered softly, trying to steady my voice, and made my way to the door, fingers brushing against the frame lightly. My heart still fluttered from the hug, from Ali's calm presence, from the unexpected intrusion, and now… from the awareness of Ahad watching me.
As I stepped out, Ali gave me one last calm, steady look. His gaze carried a quiet strength, a subtle warmth, almost… protective. And even though my cheeks burned, I felt a faint, fleeting reassurance.
Ahad caught up with me almost immediately, giving a sheepish grin. "Uh… didn't mean to… interrupt," he muttered softly, rubbing the back of his neck.But jaw lined with tension.They way his jaw was clenched I was only shocked why hasn't it broken down.
I let out a quiet sigh, hiding my embarrassment behind a soft smile. "It's… fine," I whispered, though inside, my heart was still fluttering violently.