Haruv wasn’t well.
His breaths were fast and uneven, his eyes unfocused—like his mind was slipping away from his control. The echo of her shout still rang violently inside his head. The small wound on his forehead bled slowly… but that wasn’t the real reason for his pain.

Ashi supported him gently as they reached his house.
She helped him sit—then slowly guided him down onto the sofa in his living room.

He pressed a hand against his ear, jaw clenched.
Ashi noticed the struggle on his face, but misunderstood it completely.

“Where is the first-aid kit?” she asked softly.

Haruv didn’t speak… he only lifted a shaky hand and pointed behind her, toward a drawer.

“Oh—okay, here!” she said, opening it.

She took out the kit and sat beside him—close enough to feel the tension in his breath.

Very carefully, she cleaned the blood.
Her fingers moved slow, gentle.
Her eyes kept lifting to his face—reading the sharp pain tightening his jaw, the way he shut his eyes when she dabbed a little too close to the wound.

Poor guy… it must be hurting a lot… she thought.
She had no idea the real pain was inside his ears, ripping through him like thunder.

She applied the cream, placed a small bandage, then stood up to fetch him a warm glass of water.

“Here,” she said, holding it out. “Drink slowly.”

He took it with a faint nod—his eyes lowered, avoiding hers. He couldn’t hear her voice clearly… just a distant vibration. But her lips, her concern, her movements—he saw all of it.

Ashi placed a small piece of paper on the table.

“If you need something… you can call me on this number.”

She gave him a gentle look—one full of worry, full of quiet kindness.

Then she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Haruv stared at the paper for a long moment.
Her name. Her number.
His breathing finally slowed.

But the echo of her shout… and the warmth of her touch… stayed with him long after she was gone.