The tunnel smelled faintly of recirculated air and fabric softener—an oddly comforting reminder that she was between two worlds again.

Aria adjusted the strap of her side purse, worn and softened from years of travel. It rested against her side like an old companion as she stepped into the terminal, the space opening around her like a song easing back into its melody.

The floor beneath her sneakers was cool and gleaming, echoing with the rhythm of wheeled suitcases and distant announcements in multiple languages. She squinted against the fluorescence, the low, ever-present hum of return settling around her.

No glasses.

Just clear eyes.

Her hand didn’t reach for them this time, but the muscle memory lingered—ghosting near her temple.

She hadn’t second-guessed the switch to lenses. Not this time. It was a small thing. But it felt like claiming something—her own shape, perhaps, without the need to explain. Quietly deliberate.

At the baggage carousel, she found her trolley bag with practiced ease, hoisting it down in one smooth motion. Her phone buzzed to life in her other hand—signal restored, messages trickling in like old conversations waking up.

It felt strange, how the days there already softened at the edges, like they'd happened in another life. But something in her had shifted, and she wasn’t sure she’d noticed until now.

She tapped Maya’s name. The call barely rang twice.

“Aria?” Maya’s voice was unmistakably bright. “I’m outside the exit. You there?”

“Just got my bag. On my way.”

“Perfect. I’ll be the loud one.”

Of course, she would be.

Aria smiled to herself, tucked the phone away, and followed the current of travelers toward the glass doors and the promise of familiar chaos.

And there it was.

A high-pitched squeal—unmistakably Maya.

She appeared like a blur, sneakers half-tied, oversized jacket flapping like wings. Her hug landed at full velocity, nearly knocking Aria off balance, dragging the suitcase sideways.

“Look at you!” Maya pulled back, eyes scanning her from head to toe. “No glasses? Wait—is that lenses or secret LASIK? You’re glowing. Did India hand you a skincare routine in your sleep?”

Aria laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or maybe I just slept for once.”

“Unlikely,” Maya said, linking their arms as they began walking. “So! We can drop you at the apartment Reyhaan and I looked at—the one you said yes to, remember?”

Aria nodded. “Do you have the key?”

Maya winced, lips curling like she was bracing for something. “Soo… about that. Reyhaan has the key. He was supposed to meet us here.”

A pause. Then she glanced slyly at her watch. “He might be on his way…”

Aria gave her a look. “Maya.”

A flicker of something passed through her. She hadn’t thought much about seeing him again. Not until now.

Before Maya could respond, her gaze flicked past Aria’s shoulder. And then came that grin—the one that meant trouble, or surprise, or both.

“…and that’s our cue.”

Reyhaan had spotted them before Maya noticed him.

He slowed his steps, letting the stream of travelers pass. The hum of airport overheads, wheels clattering against tile, the soft thud of reunions—blurred around him like static, all of it out of sync with the quiet he’d been carrying.

Aria was there—beside Maya, shoulder to shoulder, her cardigan sleeves half-tucked into her palms the way she always did when she was tired or cold.

Even through the blur of motion and distance, something eased in him.

He hadn’t realized how much space she took up in his quiet moments—how often her name had threaded through untold thoughts, unfinished sentences.

He could’ve called out. Could’ve waved.

But he didn’t.

He wanted her to find him on her own—like she always did.

And she did.

Maya glanced over Aria’s shoulder, and her grin gave him away. Aria followed the shift in her friend’s expression and turned.

She scanned the crowd once, casually. Then again. Slower.

And then—there it was.

A stillness in her eyes when they landed on him. The cap, the mask, the glasses. Half-hidden, worn-out.

But unmistakably him.

He searched her face, wondering if something had shifted in the weeks apart. Whether the distance had done something, silence couldn’t.

But then she smiled—before the details came into focus, before he said a word. Because she knew.

He noticed something, too. No glasses. A bare, steady gaze. A softness that wasn’t about exhaustion, but choice.

He stepped forward.

Maya, catching the moment like she always did, pulled out her phone and pivoted—to give them space.

Reyhaan tugged his mask down just long enough to speak. “Hey.”

Aria blinked, slowly. Her eyes a little too bright from travel and tiredness. “You’re late.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “My flight was cursed.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t look away.

And for a breath, that moment stretched—quiet, full, and enough.

She was here.

And this felt like turning a page—quietly, deliberately—into something unnamed, but already understood.