A week after the cafe, Sarah found Dakshin in the library, buried in a structural engineering text. She didn't ask if she could join him, simply pulling out the chair opposite and setting down her own books.
"You're tackling the advanced material," she observed, her voice low.
"I've lost a year," he said, not looking up. "I need to catch up."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the rustle of pages and the scratch of pens their only conversation. This became their new routine. No grand declarations of friendship, just a consistent, quiet presence. Sarah never asked about his family, the wedding, or Anaya. She offered no empty platitudes. Instead, she challenged him.
"Your calculation on that load-bearing stress is off," she'd say, pointing at his notes. "You forgot the safety factor."
Or, "That's the obvious solution. There's a more elegant one. Think parallel systems."
She was the only one who didn't treat him like he was fragile. She treated him like an intellectual equal who had temporarily forgotten his own capacity. Her sharpness wasn't criticism; it was a whetstone, sharpening his own dulled mind.
One afternoon, as they packed up to leave, he finally voiced the question that had been lingering. "Why are you doing this?"
Sarah slung her bag over her shoulder, her gaze direct and unnervingly perceptive. "Because I saw you building a coffin out of duty and regret. And you're too good an engineer to waste on that." She gave a small, rare smile. "Besides, someone has to keep you on your toes. Your friends are too nice."
It was in that moment he understood their alliance. She wasn't looking for a broken man to fix or a project to complete. She saw potential that was being squandered and, in her own pragmatic way, was investing in its recovery. She was a partner in his rebuilding, not a caretaker of his ruins.
As they walked out of the library, the setting sun casting long shadows, Dakshin felt a sense of solidity he hadn't felt in years. He had lost the family he was born into, but he was slowly, carefully, building a new one. And for now, that was enough.