The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Mira sat curled up on the couch, knees tucked to her chest, staring blankly at the purple flower pot on the windowsill. The same one her father gave her the day she left home for university. He said it would keep her company in new places and it had, through more cities than she could count.
She hadn't moved for hours. Her thoughts were too loud.
Images kept replaying in her mind. Her father laughing, spinning her in circles at the beach. His voice reading stories late into the night, even when he was tired. The way he'd smile and say, "You're my brave girl, Mira. Always."
She missed that version of herself.
And she hated the version this world had made her become.
A knock broke the silence.
Soft at first.
Then louder. More insistent.
It took her a moment to register it, so deep in her thoughts she hadn't noticed her phone falling from the couch hours ago screen cracked, call accidentally answered. Still connected.
When she finally opened the door after the final knock, her breath caught.
Ares stood there.
Holding two bottles of juice and a paper bag of snacks.
His eyes flicked past her. The room behind was dim, barely lit by moonlight filtering through the window. The scent of lavender and jasmine hung in the air.
"You weren't answering your phone," he said simply.
She blinked. "Sorry. I didn't hear."
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past her with his usual quiet confidence.
She didn't stop him.
"You okay?" he asked, placing the snacks on the table. His voice was lower tonight. Not commanding. Just…. careful.
"I'm fine," she lied.
He didn't believe her. But he didn't press either.
While Mira rinsed some dishes in the kitchen, Ares wandered the small living room, his eyes lingering on the details her carefully placed books, the tidy blanket on the couch, the small memories she kept hidden in plain sight.
His foot nudged something under the couch.
A phone.
He bent down and picked it up, frowning slightly when he saw the still-active call his number, two hours and seventeen minutes long.
He ended it quietly.
By the time she came back, he was sitting on the armrest of her couch, sipping juice like he belonged there.
They ate snacks in a silence that wasn't uncomfortable. Mira even laughed once at something sarcastic he said about work.
And that laugh real and unguarded made him pause.
He watched her closely, the curve of her smile, the way her eyes shimmered even when she was hurting.
"You don't have to laugh," he said suddenly.
She froze.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
The air stilled.
Ares stood, pulled his jacket closer, and said, "Come on, Let's walk."
Mira didn't argue.
Outside, the night was cool. Quiet. The kind of night that held secrets and listened well.
They walked through a nearby park, under the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees. Mira let her hands swing loosely at her sides, while Ares walked beside her with his hands in his coat pockets.
Her laughter from earlier echoed faintly, still hovering between the trees.
And then Ares stopped.
"You don't have to smile either," he said again, this time more gently.
She turned toward him, the warmth from the streetlamps casting shadows on her face.
And then, without a single word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Strong.
Quiet.
Protective.
Mira stood still.
Her face pressed against his chest, arms stiff at her sides, not hugging him back but not pulling away either.
She didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't know how.
She just stood there, frozen in the warmth of someone else's grief. Someone else's understanding. The silence stretched long minutes, maybe. It felt like a lifetime.
One of Ares's hands gently ran through her hair. The other stayed on her back, steady and sure.
"You have me," he whispered near her ear. "You don't have to bear it all alone. Tell me. Whenever you're ready. Whenever you're okay."
Still, Mira said nothing.
But the silence wasn't rejection. It was surrender.
And Ares understood that too.
He leaned back just slightly and tipped her chin up until their eyes met.
"You're strong," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "Stronger than you know. And I'm with you. Always."
The stars above flickered quietly.
And for a moment, neither of them had to be anything but what they were broken, healing, and no longer alone...