The metal door creaked loud as Rajiv shoved it open, dust puffing off his jacket with each step. The old office building had been patched into a poor excuse for an apartment, but it was home now—cracked walls, noisy pipes, and all. A two-bedroom box for three survivors. They'd seen worse.
"Home, sweet freakin' home," Rajiv muttered with a half-smile. He tossed his jacket over a chair, kicked off his boots, and stretched his back with a grunt. "My spine just signed its resignation letter."
Arin followed behind, rubbing his shoulder. "We're home!" he called out.
Footsteps rushed from the kitchen. Maya appeared in the doorway, apron tied over her worn clothes, hair tied up, a small scar peeking out near her collar. She looked a little thinner, maybe a bit more sunburnt, but her eyes still had that spark when she saw them.
"You're late," she said, smiling tiredly.
Arin stepped in to hug her. "When'd you get off work?"
"About thirty minutes ago."
"You should've waited, Maya," he said, brushing dust off her cheek.
She rolled her eyes. "Relax, it's just dinner. Not like I'm lifting steel beams."
Rajiv stepped in, voice calm but serious. "Still, you should've let us help."
"It's no big deal, Dad." Maya gave him that honest smile that made it impossible to argue.
Arin opened his mouth to say more, but Maya shut him up with a finger on his lips.
"Shh. I said it's fine. Now both of you—" she pointed her spatula like a sword, "go wash up. And don't even think about skipping dishes tonight."
The two men groaned in unison, shuffling toward the bathroom like two kids sent to time-out.
Rajiv paused midway, caught Maya's eye, and gave a small nod toward Arin. She nodded back. No words—just quiet understanding. Just old worries passed between them like second nature.
Cleaned up and a bit less grumpy, they returned to the dining table. Maya already had dinner laid out, steam rising from a beat-up pot.
"So, what's the special tonight, Chef Maya?" Rajiv asked, settling in.
"Kung pao chicken, mashed potatoes, and rice," she said proudly.
Arin blinked. "Wait, kung pao chicken? Are we rich now or something?"
Maya smirked. "Boss lady's moving out. Couldn't carry all her food stash. I got lucky."
"Well, good for you—and us." Arin quickly helped himself, sneaking in an extra piece. Maya noticed. She didn't say anything, just smirked again.
Rajiv messed with the old radio on the shelf. Static buzzed until a tired voice came through.
"…two years in Novam Domum—'new home'… gravitational fields stabilizing… fewer surges reported…"
Rajiv scoffed under his breath. "New home, huh? More like a waiting room for the hell."
Nobody responded. They just ate quietly. The only sounds were the clinks of forks and the distant arguments of neighbors bleeding through the walls.
Later, dishes were done (mostly by Rajiv grumbling to himself), Maya disappeared into the shower, and Arin tackled laundry. The ancient washing machine on the balcony wheezed like it was about to die.
"Come on, baby… just one more load," Arin whispered as he shoved the clothes in. "Don't quit on me now…"
"Why won't you fit? Come on, baby, loosen up… yes… yes…" He grunted, finally slamming the lid shut, looked up—and froze.
Across the courtyard, their neighbor was staring at him. Mug in hand. Expression unreadable.
Arin gave a slow, awkward wave.
The man blinked, then closed his window.
"…Cool," Arin muttered, cheeks turning red. "Real smooth, buddy."
Back inside, the place had gone quiet. Rajiv had already passed out in his room, snoring loud enough to scare off raccoons. Arin glanced at the calendar hanging crookedly on the wall—two red circles. One in two days. One from the past.
He stared at them for a moment, fingers brushing the paper. His expression turned distant.
Maya stepped out of the bathroom wearing an oversized shirt and pajama pants, towel around her neck. Her hair dripped onto the floor, but she looked relaxed for once. She glanced around the room.
No Arin.
She saw the calendar, saw the circle.
Her shoulders sank. "Oh, Arin…"
She climbed the metal stairs to the roof.
The rooftop was quiet. Broken city lights stretched in every direction, flickering like dying stars. The sky was strange now—foreign.
Big glowing planets that didn't belong, stars that blinked wrong. The moon had cracked a year ago, now they had two of them. Nobody talked about that anymore.
Arin sat on the edge, bottle dangling from his hand, staring out like he was trying to find meaning in the madness.
"You keep sneaking off like this," Maya said as she walked over, "people are gonna think I kicked you out."
Arin didn't look at her. "Maybe I'm just bad at talking."
She sat beside him, bumping her shoulder into his. "Nah. You talk fine. You just think too much."
They sat together in silence. The kind that didn't need to be filled.
After a moment, Arin spoke, voice low and rough. "I should've done more. Back then."
"Don't start," Maya said gently.
"But if I—"
"Arin." She turned to face him. "We're alive. We're together. That's enough."
He looked down at his hands. "Some days it doesn't feel like it's enough."
Maya sighed and pulled something from her pocket.
A bracelet. Rough, handmade. Woven from colored thread and string.
She slipped it onto his wrist.
"…It's not my birthday."
"I know," she said, smiling. "But you need this now, not later."
Arin stared at the bracelet, running his fingers over the uneven threads. "This is kinda ugly."
"I made it in the dark, smartass," Maya said, laughing softly.
He chuckled, then fell quiet again.
"Every time your brain tries to lie to you," she said, "look at that. And remember you're not broken. You're here. With me."
He pulled her into a hug, forehead resting against hers. For a long time, they just sat like that, wrapped in the kind of silence that felt safe.
Then they kissed—soft, real. The kind that didn't promise perfection. Just… presence.
Morning
Warm sunlight poured through the cracked window. Arin opened his eyes slowly. Maya was curled against him, her hand resting on his chest, her breath steady. He didn't move. He didn't want to break the peace.
His phone buzzed on the floor.
Carter: "All staff report early. No excuses."
Arin groaned.
Of course, he couldn't have it that way.
He kissed Maya's forehead, whispered something she wouldn't remember, and slipped out of bed.