short tales - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Aarika stirred slowly, blinking away the blur of sleep as soft golden sunlight peeked through the half-drawn curtains.
It took her a second to realize where she was.
The couch.
The throw blanket around her.
Her body... still warm.
And then she looked down.
There he was.
Rivan.
Curled on the floor beside her.
One hand still resting protectively on her baby bump.
His breathing steady, lips slightly parted, hair a total mess, but still — heartbreakingly handsome.
She didn’t move.
Just watched.
Her eyes slowly scanned the cut on his hand wrapped in a bandage… the faint shadow under his eyes… and the way he clung to her belly even in his sleep — like if he let go, the world would fall apart again.
Her heart squeezed painfully.
Why does he still feel like home?
She hated him.
She loved him.
She missed him — and that made her angry.
Still, without realizing it, her fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
He flinched at the touch.
Eyes slowly fluttering open.
And the moment he saw her…
A sleepy, soft smile touched his lips.
“Morning,” he whispered, voice hoarse from sleep.
She didn’t answer. Just looked away quickly.
He sat up, stretching his back with a groan. “Damn… my spine’s not made for floor-sleeping anymore.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then stop doing it.”
“Not until you let me sleep beside you again,” he smirked.
She got up, walking past him.
He followed.
“Sit,” he said, pulling out a chair. “I’m making breakfast.”
Before she could object, he was already grabbing pans, moving through the kitchen like he never left.
She sat reluctantly, crossing her arms — watching the way he cracked eggs, chopped vegetables, made toast without even looking.
It annoyed her how well he remembered.
“So,” he said, not turning, “are we going to ignore the fact that your hair looks like a lion’s mane today?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
He turned with a teasing smile. “Come on. Let me help you wash it. You look like you fought a tornado in your dreams.”
She scoffed. “I can do it myself.”
He stepped closer, leaning down just a little.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, baby,” he whispered, voice dropping slightly.
Her cheeks flamed.
She turned her face away. “That was before. This is different.”
He smirked. “Different maybe. But my hands still know how to untangle your mess.”
She threw a cushion at him.
He ducked, laughing.
But that smile faded when he looked at her again.
Softer now.
More serious.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Aarika. Not anymore. Let me… be there.”
She didn’t reply.
But this time — she didn’t walk away either.
Aarika stood at the bathroom sink, fingers struggling through the thick strands of her damp hair. It was heavy. Tangled. Uncooperative — just like her heart these days.
She was barely halfway done when the door creaked open behind her.
She didn’t even need to turn.
She already knew the footsteps.
“What did I say?” he murmured from behind, towel in hand. “Lion’s mane.”
“Rivan, I said I can—”
He took the towel from her hands gently. “I know. You can. But let me.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
But when she looked up — really looked — he wasn’t smirking.
He wasn’t teasing.
He looked… soft. Steady. Like this mattered to him.
She didn’t say yes.
But she didn’t say no either.
That was enough for him.
He guided her to sit on the wooden stool by the mirror. She looked away — arms folded, lips tight, pretending not to feel anything.
He knelt behind her.
Towel draped over his shoulder.
Fingers already separating the sections of her hair with care only he could manage.
“I used to do this, remember?” he said quietly, lifting a wet strand.
She didn’t answer.
“I hated brushing your hair after your oil days,” he chuckled. “It always tried to bite me.”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. But she quickly masked it.
His fingers moved slowly, drying her hair with gentle pats, followed by tender strokes down her back. He didn’t rush. Didn’t grope. Didn't demand anything.
Just…
Cared.
As if every stroke of his hand was an apology he’d never learned to say properly.
She closed her eyes.
Let herself feel — just for a moment — what it was like to be loved without words.
Halfway through, her breath hitched.
Not because of him.
Because of the soft, sudden kick beneath her belly.
She gasped lightly, one hand instantly reaching to her bump.
Rivan’s eyes shot to the mirror.
“What? What happened?”
She looked up.
“He kicked,” she whispered.
His whole face lit up like dawn breaking.
He stood, stepped around her, and knelt again — this time in front of her.
Both his hands resting on her belly now, warmth bleeding through her soft cotton shirt.
“Hey,” he whispered to the bump, voice thick with emotion. “You heard us, didn’t you?”
The baby kicked again — this time stronger.
Aarika laughed — breathless, disbelieving.
Tears blinked into her eyes without warning.
And Rivan…
He just stared at her.
“God,” he whispered, brushing a loose strand from her cheek. “You look like the girl I fell in love with again.”
She swallowed hard. “That girl died when you walked out.”
His smile faded, pain flashing across his face.
“I know,” he said. “But I’ll stay this time. As long as it takes to bring her back.”
Her walls wavered.
Not broken. But not as high anymore.
She didn’t say anything.
But when he gently took the towel again and kept drying her hair — she let him.
And this time…
She didn’t pull away.