The walk to Soha's house felt longer than it should, she had invited Asoka over to help clear up her mind.. to at least give her comfort and reassurance.The hills stretched on either side, their shadows growing long in the late afternoon sun. Asoka adjusted her shawl and took a deep breath, trying to tell herself she was only visiting a friend. Still, a small unease clung to her, a weight she could not shake.
Ahead, the house came into view—a simple structure of pale stone, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Light flickered from the windows, and faint voices carried to her ears. It looked alive, Full and Prepared.
She hesitated at the gate. Then, gathering herself, she knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. Soha stood there, smiling, her eyes bright with relief. "You came," she said softly, stepping aside.
"I… I hope I'm not troubling you," Asoka said.
Soha shook her head. "No. I told them you were coming. They're expecting you."
Asoka stepped inside. Warmth from the fire embraced her immediately. Shadows danced across the floor, and the smell of bread and herbs filled the air. The house was alive with small movements—someone adjusting a chair, a faint scrape of a broom, a distant clatter from the kitchen.
A man rose from a chair near the fire. Tall, broad, hair streaked with gray. His expression was calm and sharp.
"Soha," he said quietly, "this must be your friend."
"Soha," Asoka said softly, "Father, this is Asoka."
The man inclined his head. "You're welcome here." His voice was firm, but not harsh.
From near the window, a figure shifted. Lean, sharp-eyed, about seventeen, he leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed.
"That's my brother," Soha said. "Salem."
Salem nodded. "You're the one she's been talking about?"
Asoka's cheeks warmed. "I… I hope I'm not a burden."
"You're not," Soha said quickly, smiling. "I wanted you to come."
Her father gestured toward the table. "Sit. Food is ready."
The chair felt solid beneath her. She tried to relax.
Salem settled across from her, leaning his elbows on the table. "You live alone" he said quietly.
"Yes," Asoka admitted.
"That can be lonely," he said, eyes steady.
"It is," she said softly.
Salem nodded, thoughtful, then picked up a piece of bread. He studied her without pressing, simply observing.
Soha's mother moved around with ease, placing bowls of stew, bread, and small fruits neatly on the table. Extra portions made it clear she had planned for more than three. Asoka noticed but remained quiet.
Her mother glanced at her warmly. "Tell me, are you married?"
Asoka blinked, shaking her head. "No. Not yet."
"Well," her mother said, teasing lightly, "for someone as beautiful as you, I would have thought a husband would already be chasing you!"
Soha laughed softly. "Mother!" she whispered, a hand over her smile. "Don't scare her off on the first visit."
"I assure you," Asoka said with a faint smile, "no one is chasing me."
"Then your age?" her mother asked, still teasing.
"Nineteen," Asoka said quietly.
Her mother's eyes widened. "Not married? Nineteen years old and still single? My word!"
Asoka's cheeks warmed. "I… I didn't think it mattered yet."
"Oh, my dear," her mother said, feigning shock, "it matters! Girls here are usually married by sixteen. Sixteen! And you… nineteen and still walking around, thinking the world owes you nothing!"
Soha covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. "Mother!" she whispered.
"I mean it," her mother continued, pointing a finger playfully. "How have you survived without someone nagging you into marriage already? Nerves of steel, or the world has simply been kind?"
"I… suppose it's luck," Asoka admitted softly. Well she didn't mean to have rude thoughts..but Soha herself wasn't even married, she thought.
Salem leaned back slightly, smirking. "Or maybe both," he said, calm and quiet, but not jokingly.
"You're observing too much," Soha whispered, laughing lightly.
Her mother's hands flew to her hips. "Observation is fine, but words can't escape you so easily, young man."
Asoka laughed quietly, the tension in her chest softening. She needed this feeling of warmth, to get away from whatever had been troubling her.
"So, tell me about your days," her mother said, pouring more tea. "How do you spend your mornings?"
Asoka spoke simply—chores, walks, helping in the shop. She kept her words short, letting them be enough.
Her mother nodded, listening intently. "You choose your words carefully," she said with a smile. "Even your thoughts sound polite."
Soha laughed softly. "She always does," she said, glancing at Asoka.
Salem leaned forward, quieter now. "Do you feel lonely sometimes?"
"Yes," Asoka admitted.
"But you manage," he said simply.
"Yes," she said, looking down at her hands.
Her mother reached out, touching her lightly.
"We all have our lonely moments. But it is easier when shared."
"Soha, she's been quiet today" her mother said, glancing at her daughter. "You've been keeping her company well, I hope."
"Soha smiled. "I'm trying. She needs a little calm tonight."
After the meal, Soha guided Asoka to a spot near the fire. The warmth seeped into her bones.
" Don't ever think you're a burden," Soha said softly.
"I thought I might be," Asoka admitted.
"You're not," Soha insisted. "I wanted you here. I thought it would help."
Asoka nodded slowly, letting herself absorb the calm.
Bedding was spread near the fire. "I can sleep elsewhere—" she began.
Her father shook his head. "This is fine. You're under our roof. That is reason enough."
"Soha promised," her mother added with a gentle laugh, "you'll be warm and safe."
Salem watched quietly from the window, his sharp eyes noting her every movement.
Asoka lay down, letting the warmth, the gentle teasing, and the careful observation wrap around her. The soft laughter, the smells, the fire—it dulled the edges of her restless thoughts.
And yet, a small whisper of unease lingered, subtle, soft, almost imperceptible. Something wasn't pressing, but it was there, hovering at the edge of comfort.
The fire burned low. The room was quiet, safe, warm.
And then, she allowed herself to drift fully into sleep.