Meher stood outside Inaya's door, her knuckles hovering for half a second before she finally knocked.
The sound echoed faintly down the quiet hallway, swallowed almost immediately by the stillness of the late hour.
There was a pause.
Then, from inside, Inaya's voice floated out—calm, curious, and unmistakably hers.
"Who's there?"
Meher let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Your friend," she replied lightly. "I guess."
Within seconds, the door swung open.
Inaya stood there, her face lighting up into a wide, genuine smile that erased the tiredness of the day in an instant.
"Your guess is wrong," she said warmly. "You're my best friend."
"Awww," Meher murmured, a corner of her mouth lifting despite herself.
Inaya tilted her head, studying her more closely now.
"Why are you here so late at night?"
Meher raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Inaya laughed softly.
"You're waiting for that? Come on, you don't need permission to enter my house."
"That's true," Meher agreed, then gestured pointedly.
"But don't you think you're blocking my way?"
"Oh—right!"
Inaya stepped aside in a hurry, nearly bumping into the doorframe.
Meher walked in, dropping her bag onto the table with a dull thud.
The weight of the day finally caught up with her as she sank onto the sofa, leaning back with a tired sigh.
Inaya closed the door behind them and joined her, concern already creeping into her expression.
"Is something wrong?" Inaya asked gently.
Meher sniffed the air, frowning.
"What's that smell? Is something burning?"
Inaya froze.
Her eyes widened in sudden horror.
"Oh no—I forgot!" she gasped. "I was cooking!"
She rushed into the kitchen, disappearing for barely a minute before returning, looking sheepish and slightly embarrassed.
Meher stared at her.
"Why are you cooking so late?"
Inaya shrugged.
"You know how bored I get lying around all day. I thought I'd try cooking as a hobby."
Meher frowned.
"Then why not join a job? You've got offers from some of the biggest companies out there."
Inaya shook her head slowly.
"Yeah, but I don't want those high positions. I just want to be an assistant."
"I don't get it," Meher said honestly.
"Why would you want that?"
Inaya's smile softened, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes.
"I used to dream of starting my own company," she admitted.
"But seeing you handle everything… it scares me a little. So I thought I'd take something simpler for now."
She paused, then changed the subject, her gaze sharpening.
"But you still haven't told me—did something happen at home again? Another fight with your parents?"
Meher sighed deeply.
"Yes."
Inaya leaned closer.
"What's the issue this time?"
"He wants me to go on a date."
Inaya blinked.
"A date? At a time like this? How can he expect you to—"
"With Zayn Hashmi," Meher cut in flatly.
Inaya's eyes widened.
"Wait—what? The Zayn Hashmi?"
Her shock quickly turned into excitement.
"That's good news! Every girl dreams of him. Honestly, sometimes I think you were born to be a boy."
"It's not funny," Meher muttered.
"Oh, come on!" Inaya grinned.
"So… did he agree?"
"Agree?" Meher echoed.
She began recounting everything—every word, every reaction, every unexpected moment since she'd left her house.
When she finally finished, Inaya sat back, clearly stunned.
"What?" Inaya said. "He actually said that?"
"Yes. I was shocked too."
Inaya leaned forward, her tone suddenly teasing.
"I'm telling you—he's in love with you."
Meher scoffed.
"Love? With me? You really think that's possible?"
Inaya smiled knowingly.
"I think you two have already fallen for each other. You just don't realize it yet."
Meher grabbed a pillow from the sofa and hurled it at her.
Inaya squealed, dodging just in time and sprinting toward the kitchen.
"You should eat something!" she called from behind the wall.
"I bet you haven't had dinner!"
Meher felt her shoulders relax, a small smile finally tugging at her lips.
Before she could respond, Inaya peeked out again.
"Want me to be your love guide?"
Meher laughed sarcastically, snatched the pillow again, and chased after her.
Their laughter echoed through the house, loud and carefree, chasing away the heaviness of the night—at least for a little while.