Morning arrived quietly, as if it didn't want to disturb what the night had mended.
Soft light filtered through the curtains, painting pale gold lines across the room. Haniya stirred first. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was—or why she felt so calm. Then she became aware of warmth. Steady. Familiar.
Aarav.
She was still leaning against him, her head resting near his shoulder, his arm loosely around her as if he'd never once considered letting go. The realization made her still. She listened to his breathing, slow and even, and felt something fragile but hopeful settle in her chest.
Careful not to wake him, she shifted slightly. The movement was enough.
"Morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
She smiled without meaning to. "Did I wake you?"
"I don't think I ever really slept," he said, opening his eyes. "Didn't want to move."
The words warmed her more than the sunlight ever could. She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around herself, suddenly shy in the brightness of day.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
She considered the question honestly. "Not perfect," she said. "But… lighter."
"I'll take that," he replied.
They shared a quiet smile. Not playful. Not dramatic. Just real.
A knock came at the door, sharp and unexpected.
"Breakfast! If you two don't come out in two minutes, Vivaan is eating everything!" Harsh's voice echoed down the hallway.
Haniya groaned softly and dropped her face into her hands. "He does that on purpose."
Aarav chuckled. "He's very committed to chaos."
They stood, straightening themselves, returning to the world they had briefly shut out. Before opening the door, Haniya paused.
"Aarav?" she said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you," she said simply. "For last night."
He met her gaze, steady and sure. "Anytime. You don't have to carry things alone anymore."
She nodded, taking a breath, and opened the door.
The dining area was already loud. Vivaan was mid-story, hands flying dramatically as Kashvi tried—and failed—not to laugh. Harsh was stealing food from everyone's plates, as usual.
"There they are!" Vivaan announced. "Sleeping Beauty and her very devoted guard."
Haniya rolled her eyes. "I was having a rough night."
"And Aarav took one for the team," Harsh added. "Tragic hero behavior."
Kashvi stood and wrapped Haniya in a gentle hug. "You okay?"
Haniya nodded. "Yeah. Better."
Kashvi squeezed her hand before sitting back down. She didn't ask questions. She didn't need to.
Aarav took the seat beside Haniya, close enough that their shoulders brushed. It was subtle. Intentional.
Conversation drifted from breakfast plans to practice schedules. Vivaan complained about drills. Harsh complained about Vivaan complaining. It was normal—comfortingly so.
But Haniya felt it beneath the surface. The way Aarav watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. The way Kashvi kept checking in with her eyes. The way the team's laughter felt like a shield she hadn't realized she needed.
After breakfast, they headed to practice.
The court echoed with movement and focus. Haniya pushed herself harder than usual—not out of pressure, but out of relief. Her body needed motion to release what her heart had carried.
"Nice control," Aarav called out during a break.
She smirked. "Told you I wasn't falling apart."
He smiled back. "Never thought you were."
Still, something lingered.
During water break, Haniya sat beside Kashvi, twisting the cap of her bottle absently.
"Talk to me," Kashvi said softly.
Haniya exhaled. "I'm scared that when things finally feel steady, something will pull the ground out from under me."
Kashvi nodded. "That fear doesn't mean you're weak. It means you've survived enough to know how fast things can change."
Haniya looked at her. "You're wiser than you let on."
"Don't tell Harsh," Kashvi replied dryly. "I have a reputation."
Practice ended late afternoon. The team sprawled out, exhausted. Laughter returned—lighter, easier.
As they packed up, Aarav fell into step beside Haniya.
"You don't have to tell me everything," he said. "But I want you to know—I'm here for all of it. The good days. The heavy ones."
She stopped walking.
He turned, surprised.
She looked at him, really looked—at the steadiness in his eyes, the patience in his posture. "I'm not used to someone staying," she said.
"I'm not used to leaving," he replied.
Her breath caught. Then she smiled, small but genuine.
"Deal," she said.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and the dorm lights flickered on, Haniya stood at the window of her room again. The city looked the same.
But she didn't.
For the first time in a long while, the silence didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like space—room enough to heal, to hope, and maybe, finally, to believe that what was building now could last.