Sitting in a living room alone, Amaya let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing in the stillness, feeling utterly bored and uninterested in anything that surrounded her. She flicked her phone open, the screen lighting up to reveal a mere 20% charge. "That idiot again played games on my phone," she muttered under her breath, frustration bubbling up as she stood and walked toward the charging cable, her footsteps soft against the carpet, and plugged her phone in, glancing occasionally at the closed door of Zeya's room, waiting for her to emerge, along with her mom from the kitchen.
With another sigh, Amaya leaned back on the sofa, her eyes drifting toward the stairs. Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up in surprise as Zeya came down, dressed in a crop t-shirt and shorts that caught the light, framing her carefree spirit. "You can watch the TV while mom cooks," Zeya whispered, her hand reaching for the remote. But before she could grab it, in a playful burst of energy, Amaya seized the moment, pulling Zeya towards her. Zeya stumbled, her eyes wide with shock, and she landed right on top of Amaya. A jolt of electricity shot through her as Amaya's cold fingers brushed against her bare waist, causing her heart to race wildly, a mix of surprise and an unexpected thrill coursing through her.
They just want kisses and relationships. What can I do? I just need to get my work done.
Zeya's pupils dilated, her heart racing as Amaya's words replayed in her mind, the weight of them sinking in deeper. She parted her lips, feeling the sting of unspoken emotions. The declaration echoed in her thoughts: I'm engaged.
"Excuse me!" Zeya suddenly stood up, her breath trembling as if the air had been knocked out of her. Without waiting for a response, she bolted toward the kitchen, her footsteps hurried and frantic, leaving Amaya dumbfounded in her wake. Amaya blinked rapidly, utterly shocked by the abruptness of Zeya's change in demeanor. She sat up straight, a mix of confusion and concern washing over her, and turned to look at the back of Zeya. The tension in the room hung heavy, a palpable silence settling as Amaya processed the whirlwind of emotions swirling around them.
Seth Bernard is my fiancé.
Zeya's hand trembled as she stepped into the kitchen, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep gulp to steady herself before walking towards her mom. "What are you making?" she asked, forcing a casual tone into her voice, hoping to mask the storm brewing inside her.
"I made chicken curry. Go and set the table. I'll bring the food," her mom replied, her focus on cutting the fresh salads, the knife slicing through the crisp vegetables with a satisfying crunch. Zeya hesitated, then took the knife from her mom's hand, whispering, "I won't. You set the table; I'll bring the food." The unusual behavior sparked a flicker of concern in her mom's eyes, a soft crease forming on her forehead.
"Zeya," her mom called gently, taking Zeya's hand in her own, warmth radiating from her touch. "Is she and the earlier boy dating?" Her mom's question hung in the air, laden with unspoken worries. Zeya lowered her gaze, the weight of her emotions making her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Amaya and Seth, they're engaged..." she managed to say, biting her lip to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to spill over.
Her mom caressed her cheeks, her eyes filled with warmth and softness, a soothing presence amidst the chaos swirling in Zeya's heart. "Do you love Seth a lot?" her mom's gentle voice echoed in Zeya's mind, a question that cut through her turmoil like a knife. In that fleeting moment, the tears that had been poised to spill suddenly vanished, replaced by an unsettling clarity as Zeya registered her mom's inquiry.
Pulling her hand back, Zeya's expression turned blank, a mask of indifference settling on her face. She spun around, her voice flat as she replied, "Set the table, I'll bring the food." The abrupt coldness in her tone took her mom by surprise, leaving a lingering sense of confusion and concern hanging in the air. Her mom stood there, momentarily bewildered, failing to understand that the person Zeya was in love with was, in fact, a girl.
"Amaya, here! Zeya was saying you love chicken a lot. Eat a lot, okay? We still have some left inside!" Zeya's mom beamed, her eyes twinkling as she piled a mountain of chicken curry onto Amaya's plate. Amaya's eyes widened in horror, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' as she desperately waved her hands, trying to stop Zeya's mom. "Aunty, that's a lot! It's like one week's worth of food for me!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.
Zeya, caught off guard, raised her head in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up like they were trying to escape her face at Amaya's flawless lie. She narrowed her eyes, a mischievous smirk creeping onto her lips as she thought about punishing Amaya just a little for all the heartache she unknowingly caused her. "Mom, she can still eat! You can add as much as you want! She's still hungry, you can trust me on this!" Zeya declared, her tone innocent yet dripping with playful mischief, as her mom nodded enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the little conspiracy brewing at the table.
Amaya's eyes grew wide in shock as Zeya's mom kept piling food on her plate, her smile brighter than a summer day. "Don't be shy, Amaya. Be comfortable!" Zeya's mom encouraged her, with her voice as warm as freshly baked cookies. Amaya clenched her fist under the table, while keeping a straight face. "Sure, Aunty. I'll be comfortable," she replied, nodding with all the enthusiasm of a cat being offered a bath, while shooting Zeya a glare that could rival a thunderstorm. As she reluctantly dug into her plate, the tension between them crackled with unspoken humor. Zeya licked her lips, desperately trying to stifle her laughter, enjoying every second of it.
"Where do you live, Amaya?" Zeya's mom asked, her mouth half-full, a cheerful smile lighting up her face as she savored the chicken curry. Amaya lowered her gaze, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on her. She gulped her food down, the lump in her throat making her voice slightly muffled as she replied, "Down the street, house 204."
Zeya paused mid-bite, her eyes narrowing as she raised her gaze to look at Amaya. A frown creased her forehead, and her lips pressed together in disbelief. Demi and Amaya are neighbours? The thought whirled in her mind, a mix of confusion and curiosity. She had walked that street countless times, yet never once had she crossed paths with Amaya. Just then, feeling the heat of Zeya's suspicious stare, Amaya looked up, her eyes wide with uncertainty, only to meet Zeya's piercing gaze.
"Where do your mom and dad work?" Zeya's mom asked casually, but the question caught Amaya off guard. She choked slightly, the food suddenly lodged in her throat. "Water!" Zeya exclaimed, her voice a mix of urgency and concern as she rushed to Amaya's side, quickly pouring her a glass. "Are you alright?" Zeya's mom asked, her brows knitted together in worry, the warmth of her caring nature evident in her tone. Amaya shook her head, waving her hand dismissively, "I'm fine," she managed, wiping the tears that had sprung to her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself.
"Eat slowly. No one is taking your food over here!" Zeya scolded gently, her voice soft yet firm, as her hand rubbed soothing circles on Amaya's back. The warmth of her touch radiated through Amaya, creating a cocoon of comfort and support that eased her embarrassment. Amaya took a deep breath, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability wash over her as she finally sipped the cool water, the refreshing liquid gliding down her throat and dissolving the tension that had momentarily gripped her.
Zeya's mom paused, her gaze locked onto the two girls, a wave of shock crashing over her as realization struck. She could see it clearly now—the deep concern and fierce love reflected in Zeya's eyes, which sparkled with a mixture of worry and something deeper as they were fixed on Amaya. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the raw emotions that had been hidden beneath the surface.
Understanding flickered in her mind, igniting a fire of realization that sent a shiver down her spine. She lowered her gaze, her heart racing as she pieced together the puzzle of her daughter's emotions, each fragment clicking into place with a startling clarity. Zeya's coldness when she had casually asked about a boy suddenly unraveled into a revelation; it was not the boy she loved, but the girl sitting beside her, the one who had captured her heart in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. The realization hit Zeya's mom like a bolt of lightning, leaving her breathless.
Zeya continued to rub Amaya's back, her touch both tender and urgent, her eyes brimming with worry as she scolded Amaya for her reckless eating habits.
"I'll come in a minute." Zeya's mom interrupted, her voice a mix of urgency and disbelief. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor, and walked towards her room. As she closed the door behind her, a gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening in shock as if she had stumbled upon a hidden truth that shook her to the core.
Amaya stared at Zeya, while Zeya's gaze remained fixed on her mom's retreating figure. Without much thought, Zeya turned around, her breath hitching as she met Amaya's gaze. Their faces were mere inches apart, the air thick with unspoken words.
They just want kisses and relationships. What can I do? I just need to get my work done.
Zeya blinked rapidly, her heart pounding as she tried to distance herself from Amaya. She instinctively pulled her hand away, but Amaya's grip tightened around her wrist, a fierce determination in her icy gaze. "Is it because Seth is engaged with me?" Amaya asked, her voice laced with tension, each word sharp and cutting through the air like a knife.
Zeya gulped, her pulse racing in fear as she felt the weight of Amaya's question settle heavily in the pit of her stomach. She lowered her gaze, a wave of guilt washing over her. Deep down, she knew—this was Amaya's life, and she had every right to love whoever she wanted.
As Zeya averted her eyes, Amaya's expression hardened. Gritting her teeth, she finally released Zeya's hand, the sudden absence of warmth feeling like a cold void between them. In a chilling silence, Amaya finished her meal, the clinks of the utensils against the plate echoing in the dining table. She rose, her movements fluid and graceful, as she carried her plate and glass to the kitchen.
Zeya's heart raced as she followed Amaya, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of her preparing to wash her own dishes. "Ama, don't be ridiculous! Put it there!" Zeya shouted, urgency lacing her voice as she lunged forward, but Amaya sidestepped her with an effortless motion, determination etched on her face as she turned on the tap, water cascading over the dishes.
"Ama!" Zeya exclaimed, her fingers wrapping around Amaya's wrist, trying to halt her action. "You're a guest, and we don't let—"
"I don't let anyone touch my dirty plates," Amaya cut in, her tone devoid of warmth, her hands covered in bubbles like a mask of indifference. Zeya's heart sank at the frostiness in Amaya's demeanor, the distance between them increasing in a mere second.
Zeya bit her lip, the sting of Amaya's words piercing through her, leaving her trembling. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her grip on Amaya's wrist faltering, "I was just shocked… by how lightly you take relationships and kisses. When you mentioned it's merely an exchange for notes and projects, it stung. I can't decide what hurts more—the fact promises and relationship means nothing to you or that you go around kissing people making them feel lucky."
Amaya's gaze briefly flickered towards Zeya, her expression unreadable, a mask of detachment shielding her true emotions.