It was past midnight when Nayla slipped out onto the balcony. The city below hummed with faint traffic, neon signs blinking in tired repetition. She wrapped Raka's hoodie tighter around herself, the sleeves hanging long over her hands.
Moments later, the sliding door creaked. Raka stepped out, barefoot, hair still damp from his shower. He leaned on the railing beside her.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Too many thoughts."
"Dangerous territory." His smile was crooked, teasing.
Nayla exhaled a laugh. "You don't get it. My brain doesn't have an off switch. Even when everything is… good."
He studied her. "Especially when everything is good."
That made her pause. He was right. Happiness always scared her more than sadness. Sadness, at least, was familiar. Predictable. Happiness meant there was something to lose.
Raka didn't press. He just let the silence stretch between them, comfortable as always.
Finally, Nayla said, "When I was younger, I thought I wasn't made for this."
"For what?"
"This." She gestured vaguely at the balcony, at the lights, at him. "Sharing space. Sharing feelings. Letting someone see me."
He tilted his head, considering. "And now?"
She hesitated. The truth weighed heavily but felt light when spoken aloud.
"Now I'm afraid I'll get used to it. That I'll need it."
Raka didn't flinch. He leaned closer instead. "You're allowed to need people, Nayla. You're allowed to need me."
Her throat tightened. Words caught there, refusing to leave.
So she stayed quiet.
And Raka, being Raka, didn't fill the silence with explanations or reassurances. He simply slipped his hand into hers, warm and steady, grounding her.
They stood like that for a long time, the night air cool around them, their fingers loosely linked.
At some point, Nayla whispered, "I'm not easy."
Raka's thumb brushed over her knuckles. "Neither am I."
"You are," she said, almost accusing. "You make friends everywhere. People love you instantly."
"And yet," he said, voice soft but certain, "I'm here. With you. Because you're not everyone. You're the one I want to be difficult with."
Her chest ached in that way that wasn't pain but wasn't comfortable either. It was too much. Too big. Too real.
She blinked up at him, and he smiled like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Don't overthink this, Nay," he said. "We're not a puzzle to solve. We're just… us."
The words lodged deep inside her, anchoring themselves.
She let out a shaky laugh. "You're annoying."
"I've been told." He grinned.
But he didn't let go of her hand. Not when the silence returned. Not when the air grew colder. Not even when she leaned her head against his shoulder, surprising both of them.
He just shifted slightly, making space for her.
And in the quiet, above the city, Nayla realized something:
Maybe happiness wasn't something to be afraid of.
Perhaps it was something to learn how to sit like this on the balcony, like the night, like him.