Ayla realized something was different when she laughed without flinching afterward.
It happened so suddenly that it startled her.
She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a soft blanket slipping off her shoulder, when the cream-colored kitten tripped over its own tail and tumbled straight into the gray one. They rolled together in an undignified heap of paws and tiny offended noises, and Ayla laughed soft at first, then a little louder, the sound slipping out before she could stop it.
She waited for the familiar aftermath.
The tightening chest. The sudden guilt. The voice in her head whispering that happiness never lasted.
But nothing came.
Her heart didn't race. Her breath didn't hitch.
The laughter settled inside her chest like something warm instead of something dangerous.
She blinked, confused.
Miso the gray kitten regained its dignity first, blinking at her as if deeply unimpressed. Mimi, the cream one, attempted to climb her sleeve again, claws catching on the fabric.
"Hey," Ayla said, amused. "You already fell once. Have some shame."
Mimi answered by biting her finger. Gently. Affectionately. Like she had decided Ayla belonged to her.
Ayla sighed. "I see. You're that kind."
She lifted Mimi and settled her against her chest. Miso followed immediately, climbing onto her lap with surprising determination, curling into the hollow of her stomach as if he had always belonged there.
She didn't remember choosing their names.
Not properly.
She only remembered Silas standing near the window that evening, sleeves rolled up, watching her in that quiet way of his while she stared at the two kittens like they were unsolvable equations.
"have you thought of their name?" she had asked.
He answered without hesitation. "No, You name them. "
That was all.
She had looked at him then, really looked and something had tugged gently at her chest. Not pain. Not longing.
Just… something soft.
"Miso," she said suddenly that night, pointing at the gray one. "Because you look like you think too much."
The kitten yawned.
"And Mimi," she added, glancing at the cream one climbing her arm. "Because you don't think at all."
Silas had nodded once. "They suit them."
Now, days later, the apartment no longer felt like a place she was hiding in.
It felt… lived in.
She didn't count time anymore. Didn't stare at the clock waiting for Silas's return with that anxious knot in her stomach. She noticed when he came home but it no longer felt like survival depended on it.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She woke up earlier now, mostly because Mimi believed mornings were personal insults if ignored. She fed them, cleaned up after them, scolded them when they knocked things over and laughed when they did it again five minutes later.
She talked to them. Too much.
"Miso, stop judging me," she muttered once, catching him watching her fold laundry with a deeply suspicious expression.
Mimi responded by stealing a sock and running away like she had committed a crime.
Ayla chased her, slipping slightly on the rug, laughter bubbling up again easy, unguarded, real.
She didn't think about why she felt lighter.
She didn't question the quietness in her head.
She didn't notice that the old heaviness, the one that had pressed down on her chest for years had simply… gone quiet.
Not gone.
Just quiet.
Lena visited more often now. Never announced. Never dramatic.
She brought pastries once. Tea another time. Sat on the floor with the kittens like she belonged there.
"You're glowing," Lena said casually one afternoon, as Mimi slept in Ayla's lap and Miso chewed on Lena's shoelace.
Ayla frowned. "I am not."
"You are," Lena insisted lightly. "You laugh more."
Ayla tilted her head. "Is that bad?"
Lena smiled. "No. Just… noticeable."
They talked about ordinary things.
Books Ayla used to read. The kind of weather she liked. Why Mimi was clearly the evil mastermind between the two kittens.
Lena never asked about panic. Never asked about fear. And Ayla didn't offer. Because right now, she felt… okay.
She felt peaceful in a way she didn't recognize enough to mistrust.
One evening, as she lay on the sofa with both kittens asleep on her chest, the apartment dim and quiet, she realized something else.
She wasn't waiting.
Not for the door.
Not for footsteps.
Not for reassurance.
She was just… existing.
The thought startled her.
She stared at the ceiling, fingers gently stroking Mimi's back, listening to the steady sound of breathing, hers, the kittens', the faint noise of Silas moving somewhere in the apartment.
This is nice, she thought. The word felt fragile. Nice.
She didn't analyze it further. Didn't dissect it the way she usually did with every emotion, every sensation.
She let herself sink into it. Unaware that this calm wasn't freedom. It was shelter. And shelters no matter how warm are not meant to last forever.
She fell asleep that night with a smile on her lips, convinced that she was finally healing.
Not knowing that she was simply learning how to breathe only in one place.
And that one day, when that place cracked-
She would break with it.