Title: Paper Hearts

part 7

Part 7: Shifting Perspectives

The days seemed to pass in a blur of routine. Mikha and Aiah continued to exist in the same space, moving through their daily lives with a quiet understanding that neither of them had fully acknowledged yet. There were still moments of awkward silence, but there were more moments of shared glances, small gestures, and unspoken connections.

One evening, after Mikha returned from a particularly grueling practice, she found Aiah sitting by the window, looking out into the night. The soft glow of the city lights outside contrasted with the somber mood that seemed to hang over the room. Mikha hesitated for a moment before approaching, not sure if Aiah wanted company or solitude.

"Hey," Mikha said softly, stepping into the room. "You okay?"

Aiah didn’t turn to face her immediately. For a long moment, she simply stared out the window, her expression unreadable. Mikha was about to leave her to her thoughts when Aiah spoke, her voice low but steady.

"I just... I don't know what I’m doing anymore."

The words hit Mikha harder than she expected. She hadn’t realized just how much Aiah had been carrying, how much she had been trying to navigate on her own. Mikha felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she hadn’t really been there for her in the way she should have been.

"You don’t have to figure it all out alone," Mikha said gently, walking over to sit beside Aiah. "We’re in this together, whether you want to admit it or not."

Aiah finally turned to look at her, her eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and something else—something Mikha couldn’t quite read. For the first time, Aiah didn’t look away, didn’t hide behind her usual walls. She just let Mikha in, even if only for a moment.

"I never wanted this," Aiah said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted to be in this situation. I never thought my life would turn out this way."

Mikha nodded, understanding more than Aiah realized. "I didn’t either. But we have a choice now. We can either keep living like this, pretending everything is fine, or we can try to make it work. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be real."

Aiah looked away again, staring out the window. "I don’t know if I can let anyone in, Mikha. I’ve built so many walls to keep everyone out."

Mikha reached over, gently placing a hand on Aiah’s. "You don’t have to let everyone in, Aiah. But you can let me in, if you want to. I won’t push you, but I’m here. And I want to be here for you, in whatever way you need."

Aiah’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Mikha saw something vulnerable in her—something that made her heart ache. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or if their fragile connection would survive the weight of their pasts, but she knew this: she was willing to try.

Aiah finally spoke, her voice quieter now. "I don’t know what I need, Mikha. But I’m... I’m willing to figure it out. With you."

Mikha smiled softly, relieved that Aiah was opening up, even just a little. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

In that moment, Mikha realized that maybe, just maybe, this marriage could be more than just a piece of paper. Maybe it could be a partnership—a real one, built on understanding, patience, and the willingness to grow together.

As the night wore on, the quiet between them felt different, warmer. There were no grand promises, no declarations of love. But there was something that Mikha hadn’t expected to find—hope.