— Aara's POV
It started with a knock.
Not the hard, rhythmic knock of debt collectors.Not the drunk pounding of her mother at 3AM.
This one was soft.
Casual.
Like someone coming home.
Aara froze at the kitchen sink, sponge still in hand.
It couldn't be.
Not now.Not after everything.Not when things were finally… quiet.
She opened the door slowly.
And there she was.
Ayin.
Older by seven minutes.Louder by seven miles.A storm wrapped in perfume and ripped tights.
Her hair was platinum blonde now — the cheap kind. Her eyeliner too thick, lips bruised from some guy's mouth. There was a cigarette tucked behind her ear and sunglasses hiding the eyes they used to share.
"Miss me?" she said, grinning like nothing happened.
Aara didn't speak.
Didn't hug her.
Didn't cry.
She just stepped aside.
Ayin strutted in like the queen of ruins.
"Still got the same dumpy couch," Ayin muttered, tossing her bag onto it. "Didn't think you'd keep this place."
"We didn't have a choice," Aara replied flatly.
"Oh, lighten up."
Ayin flopped down like she'd just returned from a day spa instead of two years of radio silence.
"Mom's asleep?" she asked.
"Drunk."
"Figures."
Aara crossed her arms. "Why are you here?"
Ayin blinked. "Wow. Straight to the interrogation?"
"I don't have time for games."
Ayin smiled, but her lipstick cracked at the edges.
"You sound just like Dad."
Aara flinched.
She hadn't heard that voice in months. And somehow Ayin managed to dig it up in seconds.
"I need a place to stay," Ayin said.
"No."
"Oh come on, little sis—"
"No," Aara repeated, louder this time. "You don't get to walk in here and pretend nothing happened."
Ayin's grin faded.
"I carried everything," Aara snapped. "I fought. I bled. I worked three jobs. You disappeared."
"I didn't ask you to."
"No. You just left."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was thick.
Toxic.
Familiar.
Ayin stood, now toe-to-toe with her sister.
"You think I had it easy?" she hissed. "I got out because I had to. I was dying here."
"And I stayed. Because someone had to."
"Well congrats. You're still miserable."
Aara's hand twitched.
For a second, she wanted to hit her.
Not because of the words.
But because somehow, Ayin still didn't get it.
Then the door knocked again.
Aara tensed.
Ayin? She froze.
The knock wasn't soft this time.
It was measured. Controlled. Dangerous.
Aara opened it before Ayin could run.
And there he was.
Haru.
Leaning against the doorframe like he'd always been there.One hand in his pocket.Eyes cold.
He took one look at Ayin and smiled — but not nicely.
"Cute," he said. "You've got a twin."
Ayin scoffed. "And you are?"
"A problem," Aara answered before Haru could.
"For who?"
"Depends on how long you're staying."
Ayin laughed — but it was forced.
"Your boyfriend's got issues."
Haru tilted his head. "And yours have warrants."
Ayin's smile cracked.
Aara stepped between them. "Stop. Both of you."
But Haru wasn't looking at Ayin anymore.
He was looking at Aara.
And he saw it.
The way her jaw clenched.The way her shoulders shook.The way the room seemed to shrink now that her sister was in it.
He didn't touch her.
Didn't speak.
But she felt it — the silent question in his eyes.
Do you want me to make her leave?
Aara shook her head once.
No.
Not yet.
"Fine," she said. "You can stay. One night."
Ayin raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Thanks for the royal welcome."
"But tomorrow," Aara continued, "you explain everything."
Ayin shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."
She disappeared into the bedroom — the one that used to be theirs.
Leaving Aara and Haru in the doorway, caught in the ghost of their old life.
"You okay?" he asked finally.
"No," Aara whispered.
And for once, Haru didn't try to fix it.
He just stood there.
With her.