She hesitated. “Thanks. For... checking in on me.”
Kian stopped. When he turned back, the smile he gave was softer than anything she’d seen from him before. “I had to. You left before I could thank you.” He reached out and, with deliberate care, wrapped his hand around hers. His touch was warm, startling against the cold.
“So... thank you,” he said. “For getting my dad when it mattered. That’s twice now that you’ve helped me out.”
Twice?
But before she could ask, Kian gently let go. “I’ll see you soon, Riya. Just—everything’s going to be okay. Trust me.”
Kian gave Riya one last look before walking away, his figure slipping into the dim glow of moonlight.
Sirah khala’s voice broke the silence. “Well, looks like you’ll have to hold on to that essay, Riya. You’ll need it after all.”
Riya stared down at it. The paper was crinkled now from her grip, the ink smudged ever so slightly.
Unscorched. Still hers.
“Everything’s submitted digitally nowadays,” she murmured, the tiniest smile escaping. “Just how old are you?”
“It’s symbolic, Riya!”
Riya smirked.
But together, they trudged through the crisp night air, the telescope beneath Riya’s arm—steady and solid in the dark.
Chapter 31
The warmth of the house greeted Riya the moment she and Sirah khala stepped inside.
Golden lamplight pooled out of the living room. Her parents were curled on the couch, a baking show murmuring in the background. In the kitchen, her sisters moved with a practiced ease that Riya envied, passing plates and joking as they rinsed the last of the dinner dishes.
Her mom looked up, then frowned. “Are you all right?”
Riya shrugged off her jacket, the house’s heat loosening her limbs. For once, she wished her parents didn’t care so much. She wanted to disappear upstairs, crawl into bed. But their gazes pinned her in place. Riya felt something inside her curl into a tight, protective ball.
“Yeah,” she said thinly. “Sky wasn’t as clear as we hoped.”
Her mom’s eyes flicked to Sirah khala. Riya knew that look—the one that could pry truths from silence.
“Turned out there were lots of clouds,” Sirah khala offered.
Her mom rose from the couch. “But you were gone a long time.” She crossed the room and cupped Riya’s cheek. “Why do I smell smoke on you?”
Riya flinched. “Maybe one of the neighbors had a bonfire or—”
“Or you were lighting candles.” Her mom’s fingers lingered. “Riya, you’re shaking. What happened?”
Dishes stopped clinking. The air went still.
“I just need to sleep,” she said.
“Honey.”
That one word almost broke her. Her throat ached with the effort to hold herself together.
“I’mfine,” she muttered, pulling away and heading toward the staircase. But Nyra’s hand, still damp from the sink, landed on her shoulder.
“Hey.” Her sister’s voice was gentle. “You sure you’re good?”
