Tears welled up in Sara's eyes. The person she had once been willing to risk everything for—had been handed to Sim without a price. And still, Sim never valued her.
Sara kept walking down the road, her steps slow and heavy. Tears threatened to spill, but she didn't let a single one fall. The grief inside her had begun to burn, slowly morphing into anger. She wouldn't have returned home at all—if Maera hadn't been staying over as a guest that night. It was the only reason she made her way back.
As she entered, the scent of home-cooked food reached her nose. Inside, she found Maera in the kitchen, smiling softly.
"Oh, you're back," Maera said cheerfully, glancing at her over her shoulder. "Just a few more minutes and dinner will be ready. Sit down."
Sara didn't respond. Without a word, she went to freshen up.
When she returned, Maera had already set the table. Her cheerful demeanor made it hard to believe this was the same Maera who'd once drowned her grief in alcohol, clinging to a childlike self from five years ago. She smiled again as she saw Sara standing quietly.
"What are you thinking about?" she said, her tone still gentle. "Come on, or the food will get cold."
Sara silently pulled a chair and began eating. This was the first time she was tasting Maera's cooking—something that had never happened before, not even during their last meeting seven years ago.
Maera kept watching her, waiting for Sara to say something. But she didn't. Sara remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Finally, when Maera realized that Sara was about to finish and leave the table, she broke the silence.
"Sara… aren't you going to say anything?"
Sara looked up at her with a calm, neutral gaze. "What should I say?"
The question silenced Maera. Before she could come up with a response, Sara continued, her voice still composed but serious:
"Maera, I know why you're here tonight. But I think we should talk when you've cooled down. Right now isn't the time for conversation."She rose, collected her plate, and took it to the kitchen. As she cleaned up, she added quietly, "There are people in our lives we treat like our breathe. And no one stays angry at the thier breath, its not possible. Think about what you're doing, Maera. Let go of your ego before it's too late. Sometimes, humility saves us from disasters pride never could."
Sara gathered Maera's empty plate too and began washing them. Maera had no reply. Her silence stretched long after the words had ended. She sat quietly until Sara returned with a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
"I don't mind you staying here, Maera. You can stay as long as you want. Consider this your home. I've already ironed your clothes too, so you won't have any issues with the office tomorrow."
Maera was taken aback. She opened her mouth to say something, but Sara cut in with a soft smile. "No need to say thank you. It's my pleasure."
Then she disappeared into her room.
Maera picked up the coffee cup—it had cooled slightly—and stepped out into the lawn. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still clouded. A soft chill hung in the air. As she wandered slowly through the garden, her gaze caught something she had never noticed before: black roses and white lilies lined Sara's lawn.
A smile, unbidden and subconscious, touched her lips.
"You're pushing me away with one hand… and still keeping my favorite flowers in your garden?" she whispered to herself.
Her mood had lightened. She leaned down to inhale the scent of the flowers, took a few more slow laps around the garden, and returned to her room.
Later, when Sara came back to her room, she found it spotless—everything clean and in its place. She smiled. She knew how obsessive Maera could be about cleanliness, whereas Sara herself was often a little careless.
Carrying her coffee, she picked up her laptop and headed into the study. Exams were just around the corner. Unlike Zero, Sara never slacked off—but this semester had been hard on her. She hadn't studied much, and this was her final exam of the final semester. After this, everyone would go their separate ways.
With these thoughts lingering in her mind, she opened her books. She had planned to study for three hours—but fell asleep within one.
Maera peeked into the study and smiled when she found her asleep at her desk. Quietly, she draped a comforter over her and walked away to sleep herself.
Outside, the night was silent. Clouds lingered over the moon, and a cold breeze swept through the air. Life was beginning to change—like the weather in October. The flowers in the lawn swayed gently in the wind, unaware of whether they were blooming in joy… or sorrow.
And far away, somewhere at a distance—love had begun to smile again.
Perhaps… it was ready to play once more.
___________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile…
Sim had spent the entire day with Danial Steven—Dan. When Maera had left the house earlier, Sim had felt restless. She needed a distraction, someone to pull her away from her thoughts.
"Why is it always me who has to bend? Why can't Maera ever understand me?"
The thought made her angrier. So she had called Dan and gone out with him. Now, they were back at her place.
"Dan, aren't you coming inside?" she asked, glancing at him.
Dan smiled. "No, Similia. I've got a lot of work to do. Maybe next time."
He turned to leave, but she called after him.
"At least have some water."
Dan paused and nodded. Moments later, he was inside, drinking a glass of water while Sim had changed. She came back and saw him—really looked at him—for the first time.
Broad shoulders, a defined jawline, a straight nose, piercing eyes, veiny hands, and his signature wolf-cut hair that made him look even more attractive. His outfit was neat, tasteful.
"He's not bad-looking at all," she thought, giving him a full head-to-toe scan.
Dan caught her stare and smirked. "Now that your X-ray is complete, may I move?"
Sim snapped out of it, embarrassed. She turned away quickly, composing herself.
She hadn't brought him here with any wrong intentions. He had kept her company all day, and she just wanted to thank him. That was it.
"Thanks, Dan," she said finally. "You really helped me today. I was in a terrible mood, and you… you're a good friend."
Dan smiled—genuinely this time, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I should go now. No need to see me off. Bye."
He left, and Sim stood at the door, watching him disappear into the night. Suddenly, she realized how quiet the house was. She was alone.
Her gaze drifted to the couch—where Maera would usually be this time of night, gaming or forcing her to watch movies she didn't want to.
A hollow feeling crept into her chest.
She went to her room. The bed felt emptier now, though she had been getting used to sleeping alone—Maera had spent most of her nights at the hospital.
Sim quietly picked up her phone, played a song, turned off the lights, and slipped into bed.
Moments later, she was fast asleep.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile…
While the rest of the world was preparing to sleep, two strange creatures—who might as well have crash-landed from another galaxy—were only just waking up at 10:30 p.m.
Zero's eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he realized was that he'd spent the entire time sleeping in one rigid position. Now his back ached in protest. He attempted to shift slightly—but a sharp crack sounded from his lower spine.
"Oi… Sam, you rascal," Zero groaned, glaring at the figure sleeping half on top of him. "Who sleeps sprawled over a wounded patient? You've got to be the biggest lunatic I've ever met."
He tried to move again, but with one arm in a cast and the other side bruised from a bullet wound, he was effectively immobilized. After several failed attempts to wriggle free, he gave up and sighed.
Sam, meanwhile, was sound asleep—blissfully unaware of the chaos he was causing.
Just as Zero was beginning to feel sorry for himself, he caught a glimpse of Sam's hair—shiny, soft golden strands that gleamed under the dim light. Without realizing it, Zero ran his fingers gently through them. Sam, still deep in slumber, responded by nuzzling closer and climbing further onto Zero's chest.
"Oh, having a good time, aren't we, your highness?" Zero muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
The same fingers that had been stroking Sam's hair tenderly suddenly yanked a chunk of it with vengeful precision.
"Aaaah! My hair!" Sam shrieked awake, clutching his head.
Zero rolled his eyes. "Rise and shine, sweetheart. I need to use the washroom."
Sam blinked in confusion, still half-dazed. Then he looked down—and realized with growing horror that he'd practically been cuddling Zero, not the pillow as he'd assumed. His eyes widened further as he felt Zero's hand casually resting on his waist.
In a flash—faster than any speed hero—Sam bolted upright, mortified.
"S-Sorry, Zero—I didn't mean—"
"Sam," Zero cut him off with an unbothered tone, "I'm starving. Make me food. And where's my medication? Also, I need to shower. I'm going to freshen up."
He sat up and attempted to stand, but Sam caught his arm.
"Wait—I'll help you."
Zero's heart skipped a beat. Sam's touch was unexpectedly gentle—warm and grounding. Zero looked down at the hand wrapped around his arm, then shook it off hastily.
"It's okay—I... I can manage myself," he said quickly, heading toward the washroom.
But Sam followed and caught him again. "Come on, man. Why are you acting like my girlfriend? I said I'll help you. Fine—sorry. I won't tease you anymore," he added, holding his ears in mock apology.
Zero turned back slowly, a mischievous smirk forming. "And who's acting like the boyfriend now?"
Sam fumbled, caught off guard. Zero laughed and disappeared into the washroom, leaving Sam standing there, awkwardly scratching his head.
About half an hour later, Zero was sitting at the dining table while Sam—apron tied, sleeves rolled—was busy in the kitchen. Zero watched his every move, eyes following Sam's practiced gestures as he chopped and stirred.
Sam looked up to find Zero blatantly staring.
"What are you staring at?" he asked, raising a brow.
Zero grinned. "You know… when you're working like that, you really do look like my personal butler."
Sam's smile instantly vanished. "You're a real piece of work, Zero."
They locked eyes—and then burst into laughter.
After dinner and washing the dishes, the two had nothing else to do. A moment of quiet passed… until inspiration struck. They fetched their books and sat down to study.
"Okay, listen," Zero said, holding up his casted arm. "You'll have to do all the writing. I'll dictate."
He said it as if he were usually the one doing all the heavy lifting. Sam gave him a look that clearly said, Yeah right, like you ever did your own work, but didn't argue.
And so they began. Sitting side by side, a familiar arrangement. Normally, their 'study sessions' involved Zero mastering pen-spinning while Sam actually studied. But tonight, with Zero's hand out of commission, he sat unusually still, letting Sam take the lead.
Sam had already showered before dinner, and the scent of his shampoo lingered faintly. Zero tried to focus—but the clean, fresh scent was messing with his brain.
"Sam," he muttered, squinting at the book. "I don't get this question—page 18, second one."
"Where?" Sam leaned closer, flipping the page. "Ah, this one. Look—it works like this…"
As he explained, Sam unconsciously shifted closer to reach the book. His hand hovered above the page, guiding Zero through the steps.
Zero tried to listen, he really did. But Sam's proximity wasn't helping. His attention drifted from the explanation to the glistening droplets still clinging to Sam's damp hair… then to his neck—strong, smooth, faintly golden in the warm light… then his jawline, his lips—soft, pink, gently moving as he spoke…
Zero blinked.
He was completely distracted now. His eyes moved lower, down Sam's arm to his hand—long fingers, elegant yet masculine. The kind that could hold you tight or undo you in a heartbeat.
Zero swallowed hard.
Sitting up straight was suddenly very, very difficult.
Zero was lost in his thoughts, completely absorbed in the world his mind was spinning—until Sam suddenly turned his head to ask a question.
The movement was so abrupt that Zero didn't have time to look away.
Caught.
Red-handed.And without even committing a crime.
Their faces were dangerously close now—so close Zero could feel the warmth of Sam's breath against his cheek. His heart thudded in his chest, wild and uncontrolled. He couldn't move. Couldn't even blink. Time itself seemed to still, as if the universe had chosen this one fragile moment to freeze.
They just stared at each other.
Silent.Unblinking.Two storms trapped in a glass.
And then, suddenly, the spell broke.
Sam's ringtone pierced through the silence, shattering whatever fragile thing had just formed between them. The screen lit up with a name—"Akari."
A small smile bloomed on Sam's face as he glanced at the caller ID.
He looked back at Zero and said casually, "Just a minute—I'll be right back."
Zero watched him walk away, the ghost of that almost-moment still burning quietly between them.
Something unspoken had just passed through the air—and neither of them knew what to do with it.
But Zero said nothing.
Sam picked up the call and walked out of the room, his voice fading into the hallway.
Left alone, Zero sat still—motionless in body, but a battlefield within.
He stared at the empty space where Sam had been just moments ago, his mind now a war zone, his heart and head playing a brutal, quiet game of chess.
One move.One consequence.
The heart whispered, "Tell him. Tell Sam you love him. He deserves to know. You deserve to feel something real."
But the mind silenced the heart with a sharp, cruel rebuke.
"Not even by mistake. He's your only friend—your only real constant. If you lose him, you'll have nothing left."
"If he's happy… let him stay happy."
"If you really care about him… be the bystander. Be the silent one in the crowd who claps the loudest at his wedding."
"That way, Sam will never leave you."
Zero shut his eyes, but it was no use. The tears had already broken free, falling quietly down his face. He didn't sob. He didn't wail.
Only the slow, silent drip of heartbreak.
Tears without sound… like feelings buried too deep for words.
A boy sitting in silence, watching the one person he loved slip away—without ever knowing he was loved back.
"For the one destined to weep, Mohsin—Even their smiles bring tears to their eyes."
to be sontineud...