It was late when Arin stepped out onto his balcony, the cool night air wrapping around him like a silent companion. The city below was winding down, its lights flickering in warm hues, and above, the sky stretched vast and endless, speckled with a million glowing stars.
He had not expected to hear her voice.
Astha stood at the edge of her own balcony, her hands wrapped around herself as she gazed upward. Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but in the quiet stillness of the night, every word carried.
“Keep them safe,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the heavens. “My parents, my daughter. Keep them happy, keep them healthy.”
Arin remained in the shadows, unmoving, listening as she continued speaking—not to him, not to anyone, but to the stars themselves.
“And my job… let me keep it. I don’t ask for more. I have what I need, and that is enough.”
She paused for a long moment, as if collecting her thoughts, before exhaling softly. “No more entanglements. I don’t need love, and I certainly don’t want it. I have no use for heartbreak, not at this age. So, please… if you’re listening, don’t send anyone my way. I am happy as I am.”
Arin felt something stir within him, an unfamiliar pang in his chest. Her words were resolute, but he could hear the unspoken weight behind them—perhaps even a quiet loneliness she had long made peace with.
She sighed and stepped back, rubbing her arms as if shaking off an invisible chill before retreating inside.
Arin remained where he was, staring at the place where she had stood. He had come to this world seeking answers, but tonight, he had only found more questions.
And for the first time, he wondered—had he already disrupted something he was never meant to touch?
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