Mina sat at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly stirring her tea. Naarah watched her from across the table, eyes narrowing slowly.
"You're doing that thing," Naarah said flatly.
Mina blinked. "What thing?"
"The circling in your head but pretending you're not thinking thing," Naarah said, waving a spoon like a weapon. "Talk."
Mina hesitated. "Aaron's… acting strange. Soft. Quiet. Like he's hiding something. And now I don't know if moving in with him was—"
Naarah slammed the spoon down. "If that man makes you second-guess yourself after everything you two survived, I swear I will drag him out by his perfect, annoyingly veined forearms and beat him to death with a cereal box."
Mina snorted despite herself. "Naarah—"
"No." Naarah stood, already fuming. "I'm going to remind him that if he's tired of you, he can say it, but he will not make my best friend walk around in emotional limbo like some pathetic lovesick heroine."
Before Mina could protest, Naarah was already at the front door.
---
Aaron was just stepping into the hallway when she stormed up to him.
"Vetercio," Naarah snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. "If you're going to get bored with her, do it now. Don't wait until she's emotionally invested in your weird domestic routine."
Aaron blinked. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me!" Naarah glared. "She thinks you regret asking her to move in!"
For a second — just a second — Aaron's expression shifted from confusion… to sheer panic.
"Mina thinks I—what? No." He ran a hand through his hair like she had physically stabbed him. "Naarah, I'm not tired of her. I'm—"
His mouth pressed shut too late.
Naarah's eyes narrowed like a hawk catching prey. Slowly, a grin stretched across her face.
"Oh?" she drawled. "You're what, Aaron?"
He looked like a man cornered by a very small, very dangerous animal. "…I wasn't going to say anything yet."
Naarah gasped and slapped both hands dramatically to her mouth. "OH MY GOD. YOU'RE PROPOSING?!"
Aaron winced. "I didn't say that."
"YOU DID NOW!" Naarah shrieked, already pacing in circles. "OH MY GOD, I NEED A DRESS. WHERE'S MY PHONE? START PLAYING WEDDING MUSIC. DOES THIS MEAN I'M THE MAID OF HONOR OR DO I HAVE TO FIGHT KEN?"
"Please lower your voice," Aaron muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's inside."
Naarah leaned in close, whispering excitedly like a devil on his shoulder. "You'd better make it romantic, Vetercio. If she cries from happiness and not trauma — I'll let you live."
Aaron exhaled, a helpless, quietly blooming smile tugging at his lips for the first time. "She will."