The words slipped out before Ivan could stop them.
"I didn't mean to…"
The moment the sentence ended, regret settled in his chest like a weight. He stood there in silence, staring at the floor, wishing he could pull those words back, break them apart, swallow them again. He had always been like this thinking too late, realizing too late. His mouth often betrayed what his heart was trying so hard to hide.
Ryaan noticed it immediately. The sudden shift. The way Ivan's shoulders stiffened, the way his fingers curled slightly, as if he was holding onto something invisible.
"Whatever it is, I don't mind," Ryaan said, forcing a small smile. "Don't think too much."
He laughed lightly, though the sound felt hollow. He wanted to drag the moment back to what it was before to the easy laughter, the comfort, the brief escape from reality they had shared minutes ago.
Ivan nodded, but his mind was already drifting elsewhere.
"Ryaan… I'm getting late," he said after a pause. "It's already night."
Outside the window, darkness had settled fully. The streetlights glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the room. The warmth of the apartment suddenly felt unfamiliar, almost borrowed. Ivan reached for his bag, lifting it from the table where he had placed it earlier, the strap rough against his fingers.
"You want to go back there?" Ryaan asked, watching him closely.
"There is my home," Ivan replied.
Ryaan didn't respond immediately. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. His eyes were steady, sharp.
"A home where no one welcomes you."
Ivan's grip on the bag tightened. "I don't want that either," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ryaan glanced at his watch, then looked back at him. "Look at the time. Your mom isn't even worried about you."
The words hit harder than expected.
"She never was," Ivan said after a long breath. His voice came out low, tired, stripped of emotion as if he had said that line too many times before.
"Then what's the point of going back?" Ryaan asked.
Ivan didn't answer right away. He scanned the room the half-empty cups, the chair Ryaan always sat on, the faint smell of instant noodles still lingering in the air. For a moment, it felt like this place could be his too. Then reality crept back in.
"There's nothing left to stay here either," Ivan said.
Ryaan stepped closer. "We're friends, aren't we? We can live here together. Like brothers."
Ivan looked up at him. There was confusion in his eyes. Hope too but fragile.
"Then what?" Ivan asked.
Ryaan exhaled slowly. "I'm not against your mother. I'm just telling you the truth. She can live without you. You're not her priority anymore… maybe you're even her burden."
Quiet fell between them.
"You don't know me," Ivan said, his jaw tightening.
"I do," Ryaan replied calmly.
Ivan swallowed. "I still feel my dad's presence… there. In my home."
Ryaan blinked. "You're insane."
"I'm not," Ivan said immediately.
"You're saying your dad is still there?" Ryaan asked. "Do you believe in souls?"
"I believe in his presence," Ivan said. His voice didn't shake. That scared Ryaan more than anything.
"It's in your mind, Ivan. You know that."
"I talk to him."
Ryaan's expression softened. He took a step forward. "I trust you. I know you talk to him. And I know you hear him talk back."
Ivan looked at him, eyes searching.
"But it's all happening inside your head," Ryaan continued gently. "It's normal. It happens when we've been through trauma."
Ivan lowered his gaze. The room felt smaller now. His bag hung uselessly from his shoulder.
Neither of them spoke
Outside, cars were breathing along the long streets of the city. Their sounds were very distant from the apartment.