The house was quiet.
The kind of quiet that only came after a long, emotional day — the kind that wrapped itself around every corner like a lullaby.
Aahi's bedroom glowed softly, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the sheer curtains. The windows were slightly open, letting in a warm summer breeze that made the wind chime on the balcony sing faintly.
She lay curled beneath the pale floral sheets, her hair fanned out over the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her breaths were soft and even — the kind of sleep only exhaustion could bring.
Her bag lay in the corner of the room.
Unzipped.
Still.
The spirit charm inside it silent… for now.
Outside her bedroom door, in the soft light of the hallway, two figures stood.
Shaheen Begum and Aarifah.
They stood in silence for a moment, just watching her through the half-open door. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest. The tiny furrow in her brow, even in sleep. The strength she always tried so hard to hide.
Shaheen was the first to whisper.
"She looks like she's finally resting. But inside…"
A pause.
Aarifah leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely.
"She's been lonely for too long."
Shaheen turned to her.
"That kind of loneliness... it doesn't go away by being around people. It needs something more."
Aarifah looked at her daughter again. Her voice softened.
"You mean love."
Shaheen nodded gently.
"Not the kind in books. Not the one in photo albums. Someone who sees her fire… and doesn't run from it."
They stood silently, the hallway holding their shared ache.
"She's strong," Aarifah said after a while. "Stronger than me, even. But I don't want strength to be all she ever has to hold."
Shaheen reached out and placed a light hand on her daughter's arm.
"In the new city, she'll bloom."
A pause.
"She'll find someone."
Aarifah glanced sideways at her mother, trying to believe it.
"I hope so."
A gust of wind moved through the window, fluttering the curtains inside Aahi's room. The wind chime gave a soft, high sound — like a whisper, like a call from something distant and unseen.
And in the bag…
the charm pulsed. Once.
Subtle.
Felt by no one.
But it had started.