A heavy silence prevailed in the apartment—a silence that did not resemble calm, but rather the void that follows surviving death.
Honoka was lying on the sofa, her body covered by a light blanket, her chest rising and falling with a slow, irregular rhythm. Misaki sat beside her, her hands tightly interlaced, as if she feared everything would vanish if she let go.
Ahmed stood a short distance away, contemplating the scene with tired eyes. His dry, new clothes did not hide the trembling of his body, nor the cold that was still caught in his bones… but the real cold was in his chest.
If I had been a second late…
He didn't finish the thought.
He turned away and headed to the kitchen in silence, as if movement alone was what kept him from collapsing. He lit the stove and placed the small pot. When he added the ghee, a soft sizzle and a warm aroma spread, bringing back a fragment of memory. Then the honey… that simple, ancient mixture that needs no explanation.
This isn't just food… this is what my mother used to make when we survived… when we were afraid… when we came back alive.
The scent of the Asida began to spread through the apartment slowly, as if wiping the traces of terror from the walls, as if saying: You are here… you are still alive.
At that moment, Honoka moved.
Misaki's heart tightened instantly. She drew closer and whispered her name with fear:
"Honoka…?"
Honoka's eyelids flickered, then she opened her eyes slowly. Her gaze was lost, as if searching for something she had dropped in the darkness.
"I…"
Her voice came out broken, weak, and barely audible. She paused, swallowed with difficulty, and then whispered:
"Am I… alive?"
Misaki froze, her eyes filling with tears. She quickly grabbed Honoka's hand, squeezing it as if she wanted to transfer the truth through touch.
"Yes… you are fine. It's all over."
Ahmed moved from the kitchen upon hearing her voice. He stepped forward with quiet strides, carrying the bowl in his hands. When Honoka's eyes fell upon him, her gaze widened slightly. She studied his face… the face that was the last thing she saw before the fall.
"Ahmed…"
She spoke his name with confusion, then her tone suddenly broke.
"I… I was going to die, wasn't I?"
He didn't run away this time. He sat before her, exactly at her eye level, his voice low but steady:
"You were going to fall… yes. But that didn't happen."
He paused for a moment, then added with a painful honesty:
"Because you were not alone."
Her lips trembled, and a silent tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't say thank you… she couldn't.
Ahmed extended the spoon toward her, very gently, as if the movement itself required permission.
"Eat a little… this will help you."
She tasted the Asida slowly. With the first bite, she felt something warm spreading in her chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the food alone.
This… feels like home. It feels like safety. It feels like the life that almost slipped from my hands.
Misaki watched the scene in silence. She saw how Ahmed fed her without haste, how he monitored her breathing, how he completely forgot himself. And something in her chest… grew deeper.
Outside the apartment, the world continued as usual.
But here,
life was being rebuilt…
spoonful by spoonful.