Chapter: He Sat Beside Me
Iman's POV
He sat down beside me.
Just like that.
Like my silence didn't scare him anymore.
No dramatic speech. No sassy comebacks.
Just… presence.
The kind that makes your chest feel full and hollow at the same time.
I didn't look at him.
Not properly.
Just noticed his elbow nearly brushing mine, the way his legs stretched out a little too confidently — as if sitting there beside me was something he'd always done.
But he hadn't.
Not in years.
Not since everything got messy — not since I stopped knowing where Ahad ended and where… this version of him began.
I wanted to say something.
Anything.
But I didn't.
Not because I was angry.
Not even because I was still confused.
But because the moment felt too raw to speak into.
His silence wasn't like mine.
Mine was a shield.
His felt like… a door. Half-open. Waiting.
And that terrified me.
Because I've been through silence before — the bitter, empty kind.
But this was new.
This silence felt like a question.
One I wasn't sure I was ready to answer.
So I did the only thing I could manage.
I whispered.
"Nine days."
He tilted his head toward me, but didn't push.
Didn't ask what I meant.
Of course he knew.
I could feel his eyes on me, steady and unreadable.
He was always better at hiding the storm.
"You changed, Ahad." I kept my voice soft. "I don't know when. Maybe I didn't notice it happening… or maybe I did. And ignored it."
Still nothing from him.
But I felt his breathing shift. He was listening.
"You were my favourite person once," I admitted, staring at the cracked cement under our feet. "But now I don't know where that version of you went."
A small pause.
Then, his voice.
"He's here. He just grew quieter."
I closed my eyes.
Why did that make it worse?
"I thought if I ignored you, maybe this… all of this… would go away. The confusion. The feeling like I'm twelve again and looking at you like you invented light."
He chuckled softly at that.
Low. Surprised.
"Did you?"
"Shut up."
But I smiled. Just barely.
We sat like that.
Side by side.
No need for conclusions, no pressure to define it.
Just two people holding a silence that didn't hurt anymore.