The Promises We Broke

26

Zeher was about to leave when Zaan put on a chick-flick. She paused, sinking back into the cushions, deciding that watching this would be better than retreating to the isolation of her room.

For the past few days, Ehraan and Sahir had been her constant shadows, taking turns watching over her.

When Sahir left for school or to sleep, Ehraan filled the gaps. He wasn't nearly as attentive, rarely speaking beyond reminding her to rest or take her medicine, yet his quiet presence made her heart stir. 

And with every flutter, she cringed, the memory of what had evoked such tenderness curling her back into herself.

It was strange, how easily she had fallen into craving their company. 

Loneliness, it turned out, was a lot like hunger—you didn't realize how starved you were until someone placed food before you. And now that she had tasted this quiet care, the idea of being alone again made her feel hollow.

She told herself the attention was temporary, born of her recent illness. Now that she was better, they would slip back into their own worlds, barely sparing her a glance.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind: should she make herself sick again? 

It was still raining outside. A few hours in the cold, wet air, and her fragile immune system would surely crumble. 

She shook her head at her own foolishness but couldn't deny the pull of wanting to be needed.

She leaned her head on Zaan's shoulder, knowing he wouldn't push her away. 

He craved physical touch as much as she did, if not more. Though he never initiated it but when she reached for him, he never rejected it, absorbing it in quiet surrender.

Faiz and Iqra had both vanished long ago—the former because anything without violence or gore was beneath him, and the latter, for reasons too obvious to need stating.

An hour into the film, just as Zeher was beginning to lose herself in the plot, Arzan appeared. He stood in front of the screen, blocking their view, casting a long shadow.

"Move, Arzan," Zaan groaned. His irritation turned to curiosity when he noticed Arzan's formal attire. "Got a date?"

"Yes," Arzan replied, casting a meaningful glance in Zeher's direction. "Though it seems I've been stood up."

"Who'd dare?" Zaan asked, immediately defensive for his brother.

Zeher, too, felt a pang of sadness. Arzan had clearly gone to great lengths tonight. He looked sharp—his navy blazer, perfectly styled hair, and even the subtle glint of matching cufflinks betrayed the care he'd taken.

"Zeher?"

The soft weight of her name on his lips jolted her. She sat up straight, dread swirling in her chest.

What wrong did she do now?

Arzan's silence lingered as he waited for her to catch on. When she didn't, he sighed, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. "It's Thursday, love."

She blinked. Thursday. The dinner—she had completely forgotten.

Horrified, she stared at him, expecting to see disappointment, maybe even anger. But Arzan's gaze was kind, his patience unfaltering.

"It's alright," he said gently. "Would you still like to go?"

Torn between the allure of the unfolding movie and the disappointment she might cause, Zeher hesitated only for a moment before nodding.