The afternoon sunlight slanted through the curtains of Naarah's kitchen, turning the steam from her tea into soft gold. Mina sat at the table, fingers circling the rim of her mug. Ellie was asleep in the pram by the window, a faint murmur of breath reminding her there was still peace somewhere in the world.
Naarah leaned her hip against the counter, watching her. "You look like you swallowed a whole conversation and it's stuck in your throat," she said. "Out with it."
Mina sighed. "Aaron wants me to move in with him."
Naarah blinked once, then sat down across from her. "Of course he does. He's been hovering around like a storm cloud since he came back. What did you say?"
"That I'd think about it." Mina tried to smile, but it faltered. "He said it's safer, that I could still visit since his house is right across the street. He's not wrong. It's just—" She broke off, searching for words. "I don't know if I can live with him."
Naarah raised a brow. "Because of what he's done? Or because of what he makes you feel?"
"Both," Mina admitted. Her fingers tightened around the mug. "He's calmer now, but sometimes when he looks at me, I still see the man who went to war for revenge. I don't know what living with that version of him would do to me. To Ellie."
Naarah nodded slowly. "You're not crazy for thinking that. He's dangerous, but he's also trying. You have to decide if his trying is enough. As much as I hate my cousin. I think you guys need this closure. For yourself and Ellie."
Mina's voice dropped to a whisper. "What if I move in and it becomes another cage? What if I start to feel like I'm just surviving in his world, not living in mine?"
Naarah reached across the table, covering Mina's hand with hers. "Then you remind him it's your world too. You've already survived worse than walls and men with heavy hearts." She gave a small, crooked smile. "If you go, make sure it's because you want to, not because you're scared not to."
Mina swallowed hard. "He said it's about building something that won't fall apart. But what if it already has?"
Naarah squeezed her hand gently. "Then you build something smaller, steadier. Even love needs time to breathe."
Outside, a car door slammed and the sound made both women glance toward the street. Through the lace curtain, Mina caught a glimpse of Aaron crossing the road, his shoulders set, his face unreadable. She looked back at Naarah, heart hammering.
Naarah sighed, standing up to refill her tea. "Well, Mina, it looks like you'll get to tell him what you decided."
Mina stared at the door, fear and longing twisting in her chest. "I still haven't decided," she whispered.
Naarah gave her a gentle look. "Then don't. Just be honest. He's survived worse than waiting."