Airam practically floated back inside after her first kiss, shutting the door behind her with trembling hands. The moment her back touched the wood, every emotion she had been holding back cracked open like a dam.
"Oh my God… what was that?" she whispered, sliding down until she sat on the floor.
Her lips still tingled, her heart refused to slow down, and her brain refused to process anything normally. She buried her face in her hands.
Why did I do that? Why did he do that? Why did it feel like that? She wanted to scream, laugh, and cry all at the same time. Her meltdown was a mixture of panic and joy. Did she do something wrong? Was it right?
She paced the room. Then sat. Then got up again. She hugged her pillow. Then the wall.Then the air. Then cursed herself for all of it.
And the worst part? She couldn't stop smiling.
For weeks after, she walked around like someone had switched her heart to "permanent sunshine." Harry texted her every morning, he took her number from Jane.
He will drop by her work with excuses that make no sense, and somehow manages to make her laugh harder than she ever has.
So when the neighborhood announced a small celebration, usually a ritual to get everyone together, there were food stands, games, music, and Airam could barely wait.
She also hated this moment to have others in her business, but something changed this time, she was looking forward to it. She wanted the memories. She wanted… him.
"Don't be late," she told him that morning. "You'll miss the fun."
"I'll be quick," Harry promised. "Just need to pass by campus."
Since she was off work and Harry wasn't home, Airam offered to drop his laundry off in his room.
It was harmless. Innocent. Normal gesture.
She carried the laundry basket inside, humming as she walked toward the small table near his bed.
But then the basket bumped against a thick, binder-covered book resting on the edge.
It slipped.
Thud.
"Oh shoot," she knelt, carefully picking it up.
It was heavy and new. Seems they just printed it out.
She stood to put it back on the table…and that was when her eyes caught the title embossed across the front.
Airam froze.
Her fingers tightened on the cover. Her breath hitched. Her heart, that happy, glowing heart, suddenly stumbled.
The title read
Adaptive Coping Mechanisms Among Economically Disadvantaged Families: A Qualitative Immersion Study
Everything inside her went silent.
She stared at the cover so long her vision blurred.
"What… what is this…?" she whispered, her voice cracking. Her chest tightened as if someone had grabbed her ribs and squeezed.
This was a research paper. A research paper that made her stomach twist.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, the book heavy in her hands.
All the warmth she had been living in for weeks…All the joy she had let herself feel… All the silent hopes she had tried not to name…
Shook. Violently.