Aira used to enjoy being alone.
Not in a sad way.
In a this-is-my-space way.
She liked walking by herself.
Losing herself in thoughts.
Letting silence sit without trying to fix it.
That night, the silence felt different.
Not heavy.
Just… noticeable.
She stood near the window, phone in her hand, scrolling without really seeing anything.
Then it buzzed.
Reyhan: Home?
She smiled before replying.
Aira: Just reached.
A few seconds later—
Reyhan: Good.
That was it.
No conversation.
No follow-up.
Still, something inside her eased.
She sat on her bed and stared at the ceiling, realizing how quietly her habits had shifted.
She wasn't dependent.
She wasn't lost without him.
But she had started to include him—
in her pauses,
in her check-ins,
in the parts of her day she used to keep to herself.
And once you did that, going back felt… strange.
The next day, Reyhan noticed it too.
"You okay?" he asked when she walked beside him, unusually quiet.
"I forgot how loud my own thoughts can get," she admitted.
He smiled faintly.
"You don't have to give them all your attention."
She glanced at him.
"You help."
He didn't deny it.
"I don't want to replace your silence," he said.
"Just sit in it with you sometimes."
Aira felt that settle deep.
She wasn't losing herself.
She was learning how to share space without shrinking.
That night, she wrote another rule—slowly this time.
Not because she needed one.
But because she wanted to remember this feeling.
RULE #84: Don't get used to being alone again.
Not because solitude is bad—
but because some people become home
without asking for the keys.