Reyhan didn't pull away after that conversation.
That surprised Aira.
She'd expected awkwardness.
Distance.
A step back to safety.
Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
Not closer.
Not farther.
Present.
They walked together more often again—not out of habit, but intention.
No pretending.
No labels.
Just awareness.
"You've been different," Reyhan said one evening as they sat near the empty ground.
"Good different or concerning different?" Aira asked.
He smiled faintly.
"Honest different."
She nodded.
"I'm tired of acting like I don't care."
Reyhan looked at her, something vulnerable crossing his face.
"I don't want to be the only one holding this," he admitted quietly.
"I don't want to feel like I imagined it."
Aira's chest tightened.
"You didn't," she said immediately.
"And you're not holding it alone."
That mattered more than a confession ever could.
Reyhan exhaled slowly.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking I had to deal with things by myself," he said.
"Even feelings."
Aira looked at him gently.
"You don't," she replied.
"Not anymore. Not with me."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Not heavy.
Not fragile.
Shared.
"I don't need you to have everything figured out," Aira added.
"I just need you to know you don't have to carry it alone."
Reyhan met her eyes.
"I'm not used to that," he admitted.
She smiled softly.
"Neither am I."
They stood up when the sky started to darken.
No touching.
No declarations.
But when they walked, their shoulders brushed.
Neither moved away.
That night, Aira realized something quietly powerful.
Letting someone know they weren't alone…
was its own kind of love.
RULE #72: Don't let him think he's alone.
Because feeling seen matters more
than hearing the right words.