The laughter hadn't stopped, but it had softened.
The pasta had been cleared, the plates wiped clean, the crumbs brushed away. In their place sat half-filled glasses of wine, the occasional clink of spoons against bowls of melting tiramisu, and the lazy sprawl of a gathering winding down.
Hriva sat with her hands in her lap, her back a little straighter than usual. She smiled when someone cracked a joke. She nodded when Niyah began talking about an upcoming art exhibit. But her attention wandered. Again and again, her eyes flicked sideways to Jake, seated just to her right, and then across to Mira, whose legs were tucked beneath her on the couch, head resting lazily on her hand.
Every now and then, Mira would glance at Jake when he spoke. Not in a suspicious way. Not in a way that screamed anything wrong.
But Hriva noticed.
She noticed how Mira's gaze lingered just a moment longer than it had with anyone else. She noticed how Jake answered her without hesitation, how he smiled easily at Mira's teasing, how he never looked uncomfortable. As if Mira wasn't just her best friend, but already someone he was used to being around.
The feeling in Hriva's chest wasn't sharp. It was low and slow, like a hum you couldn't shake. Not anger. Not yet. Just something unsettled. Something beginning.
Jake turned to her and touched her wrist lightly. "You've been quiet."
She blinked at him. "I'm just tired," she said, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Jake studied her for a beat. "You sure?"
Hriva nodded. Too quickly.
Zara stood up and stretched. "Alright, this night needs to end before I start confessing crimes or falling asleep on the rug."
"Or both," Niyah added, already gathering her bag.
"Give me ten seconds," Mira said, moving to grab the leftover wine bottle. "Anyone want a final pour before we call it?"
Jake leaned forward to speak but Hriva stood abruptly.
"No," she said. "We should probably go."
The room paused, just for a breath.
Jake looked up at her, surprised.
Mira blinked. "Oh. Okay. I mean, you're welcome to stay a little longer if you want."
"It's late," Hriva replied, already smoothing her dress and reaching for her purse. "And we've got a long drive."
Jake rose too, slowly. His expression had shifted now. A slight crease in his brow. Confused, but silent.
As they said their goodbyes, Mira pulled Hriva into a hug that lingered. "Hey. You good?"
"I'm fine," Hriva murmured.
"You sure?"
Hriva gave a small smile. "I'm glad we did this."
Mira's arms tightened briefly before letting go. "Me too."
Then Jake offered his own hugs, casual and friendly. He gave Mira a warm smile, and Mira's hand brushed his arm as she stepped back.
"Thanks for helping in the kitchen," she said.
Jake nodded. "Thanks for trusting me not to break your wine glasses."
The joke was light, but something in Hriva twisted.
She didn't speak on the walk to the car.
Not when Jake opened the passenger door for her. Not when he turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. Her silence wasn't sharp. It wasn't cold.
But it was heavy.
The drive was quiet for the first few blocks. The streetlights passed in slow succession, casting shadows across the dashboard. Jake didn't turn on the radio.
Eventually, he glanced at her. "Did something happen?"
"No," she said too fast.
He watched the road again. "You sure?"
"Yes."
He didn't press. But his fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel.
When they reached the intersection just before her place, Jake slowed the truck.
"You seemed... off," he said finally.
Hriva stared out the window. "I said I was tired."
His voice was calm. Patient. But not without edge. "And I believe you. But tired isn't the same as distant."
She didn't respond.
The silence stretched.
Jake pulled into her driveway. The porch light was still on, casting a soft glow across the steps. Neither of them moved.
"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" Jake asked quietly.
Hriva looked at him, startled.
"No," she said. Then softer, "No. You didn't."
He studied her for a long moment. "Then what is this?"
She hesitated.
She could feel it bubbling up. That ache in her chest. That mix of feelings she didn't know how to name yet. Was it jealousy? Insecurity? Fear? Was it all of them at once?
But instead of speaking, she reached for the handle.
Jake stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Talk to me."
Her eyes flicked toward him, wide and searching. But her mouth stayed closed.
"I can't fix what I don't know," he added, voice lower now.
"I know," she whispered.
She pulled her arm free gently and stepped out of the truck.
Jake didn't follow right away.
She stood on the steps, waiting, watching as he finally turned off the engine and got out. When he reached her, he took her hand again, just as he always did.
But this time, something in the grip felt unsure.
Like even the strongest hands could lose their hold.