Forgiveness didn't arrive all at once.
It came in fragments.
In moments where Aira almost brought something up—and chose not to.
In times where Reyhan wanted to explain again—and realized he didn't need to.
They were learning something new.
That healing wasn't loud.
It was patient.
They sat across from each other in the cafeteria, not sharing food, not leaning close.
Just… existing comfortably.
"I don't feel angry anymore," Aira said quietly.
"But I don't feel completely okay either."
Reyhan nodded.
"That makes sense."
No defensiveness.
No fixing.
Just acceptance.
"I keep thinking forgiveness means pretending it didn't hurt," she added.
Reyhan met her eyes.
"It doesn't," he said.
"It just means you're not carrying it to punish someone."
That settled something in her chest.
"I'm still processing," Aira admitted.
"And I don't want to rush myself into being fine."
"You don't have to," Reyhan replied.
"I don't need instant forgiveness. I need honesty."
They walked together after school, slower than usual.
"I'm learning that saying sorry isn't the end," Reyhan said.
"It's the beginning of doing better."
Aira smiled faintly.
"And I'm learning that forgiving doesn't mean forgetting," she replied.
"It means choosing not to reopen the wound every day."
They reached the gate.
This time, Reyhan didn't ask if she was okay.
He simply said,
"Thank you for not giving up on me while you heal."
Aira paused.
Then replied honestly,
"Thank you for giving me time instead of explanations."
They parted ways without touching.
But the air between them felt… lighter.
Not healed.
Healing.
RULE #67: Don't rush forgiveness.
Because real forgiveness isn't a moment—
it's a process you walk through together.