Chapter 37: "Promises in the Quiet"
The first thing Zariah heard was Jasmine stirring.
A soft groan. A yawn. The shuffle of her adjusting against the couch.
Zariah lifted her head but stayed silent, waiting.
A moment later, Jasmine's voice, rough from sleep:
"You're awake."
Zariah nodded, unsure if Jasmine could even see it in the dim morning light.
Jasmine sat up fully, rubbing her face. "You scared me last night," she said quietly. No anger. No guilt-tripping. Just a simple, aching truth.
Zariah stared at her hands, at the angry red marks hidden under the bandages.
"I scared myself," she whispered back.
Silence stretched between them—thick, uncomfortable—but not the kind that pushed them apart. This silence wrapped them in something heavy but shared.
Jasmine shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, facing her. "I'm not gonna pretend everything's fine," she said. "Because it's not. And I know you're not magically better today."
Zariah swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
"But," Jasmine continued, voice stronger, "you're here. You're still here. And that's what matters."
Zariah's eyes burned with the threat of fresh tears, but she blinked them away furiously.
Crying meant she cared.
Caring meant hurting.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Jasmine said, softer now. "You don't have to smile if you don't feel like it. You don't have to be okay if you're not."
Zariah's lip trembled. She bit it hard to stop herself from breaking.
"You're not alone, Z," Jasmine added, her voice cracking a little at the end. "Not anymore. I'm not letting you fight this by yourself."
For a moment, Zariah couldn't breathe. The words sank deep—deeper than any knife ever had.
Not alone.
Not alone.
Zariah hugged her knees to her chest, pressing her forehead into them again. "I don't know how to... not feel like this," she mumbled.
Jasmine scooted closer until their knees touched.
"You don't have to figure it out today," she said. "Or tomorrow. Or next week. You just have to let me stay."
Zariah didn't trust her voice, so she nodded.
A promise made in silence.
A tiny seed planted in the ruins.
Maybe it wasn't hope yet.
But it was something close enough to breathe for.