Chapter 26: "The Space Between Breaths"
Zariah didn't know how long she stayed in Jasmine's arms.
Minutes. Hours. Maybe lifetimes.
They stood in the cold, the world hushed around them, like even the stars were holding their breath. Jasmine's hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and cinnamon gum. Familiar. Safe. But Zariah still felt like she was breaking in slow motion.
"I didn't do it," she whispered.
Jasmine didn't speak. Just held her tighter.
"I wanted to," Zariah said. Her voice was small, like she was afraid of her own confession. "I was right there. One second away."
"I know," Jasmine said. Her voice trembled. "That's why I came."
Zariah pulled away, just enough to look at her. "How did you know?"
Jasmine's eyes were red, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I didn't. I just felt it. Like… something was pulling me here. Like if I didn't come, something bad was going to happen."
Zariah looked down at her hands. They were pale and cold, and still trembling.
"I think I'm losing myself," she said.
Jasmine took her hand. "Then let me hold onto you until you find your way back."
The silence between them wasn't empty anymore. It was full of things they didn't know how to say—fear, exhaustion, love, desperation. Zariah didn't trust herself to speak again. Instead, she leaned her head against Jasmine's shoulder and closed her eyes.
For the first time in days, she felt a sliver of calm.
Not peace. Not healing. Not yet.
But stillness.
Jasmine eventually guided her inside. Wrapped her in blankets. Sat beside her on the floor, because the bed felt too far away, too soft, too normal. They didn't talk anymore. They just listened to the sound of the night and their breathing.
"I'm not telling anyone," Jasmine said quietly. "I know I should. I know people would help. But I promised you."
Zariah nodded slowly. She wasn't sure it was the right decision. But it was the only one she could handle right now.
"I'm scared," she whispered again.
"So am I," Jasmine replied.
And they stayed like that—side by side, two broken hearts trying to beat for each other—waiting for morning.
Not because it would make things better.
But because at least it would mean they'd survived the night.