The silence between them wasn't empty...It was thick... Coiled.
Like something unsaid was sitting right in the middle of the room...waiting for one of them to touch it.
Zayaan stood by the windowless wall, arms crossed, but his body angled toward her...like he couldn't help it. Arwa sat cross-legged on the cot, eyes fixed on the faint pulse of amber light in the ceiling... her mind already halfway down another corridor of thought.
"There's a name," she said suddenly.
Zayaan looked at her. "Whose?"
"I don't know yet." Her voice was quiet but certain. "But it's been circling. In the background of everything. Like a smudge I've tried to wipe off memory, but it's part of the page."
Zayaan walked over, crouched low again like he did the last time she needed to say something that hurt.
"A name's a start," he said.
She nodded, like she agreed — but not because it was hopeful. Because it was inevitable;.
"It doesn't feel like someone I trusted," she said. "It feels like someone I needed to trust. Someone who made the forgetting easier."
He waited, let her hold the silence as long as she needed.
"There was a safe word," she added, after a moment. "A phrase, maybe. Like… an internal tripwire. Something that would break the whole illusion once I heard it."
Zayaan's brow furrowed. "Did you remember it?"
"No." Her voice faltered. "But I feel close. Like it's at the edge of language. Not a word. A feeling."
She looked at him then, really looked. "Do you ever feel like the truth is already inside you!?just buried under a version of yourself you didn't choose?"
He didn't blink. "Every single day since you disappeared."
The quiet hit again — but softer this time. Less threatening.
She stood up, suddenly restless. Began pacing the length of the room. Her fingers brushed the metal edges of the desk...the folded blanket...the chipped paint on the wall. Searching without knowing what for.
Then her hand stilled. A flicker of something.
A groove beneath the paint. Barely visible. She dug a nail under it and peeled back a strip — revealing a string of numbers etched into the wall.
Coordinates.
Zayaan stepped closer. His breath caught.
"You didn't put those there?" she asked.
He shook his head.
Arwa's mind whirled. "Then someone else knew this place. Knew I'd come here. That we would."
"What if it's a trail?" Zayaan whispered. "What if someone's been leaving these for you… for us… all along?"
Her pulse kicked. Not out of fear — but purpose.
Like the game had just shifted again.