In life, people come and go. Sometimes, you don't even realize when someone quietly becomes impossible to ignore. They aren't arriving; they're already there, lingering on the edges, long before you know how to feel their warmth or how to even look at them properly.
Ariya had grown up noticing the little things: the subtle gestures, overlooked moments, the quiet presences that often went unseen. Being the youngest, she knew her place in the constant swirl of life. Her house was never empty. Siblings meant relentless noise, teasing, arguments over trivial things, laughter, and sighs that somehow made everything feel alive.
Her cousins added another layer to the chaos, spilling the world beyond walls into gardens, rooftops, and long afternoons of stories and games. Amidst all of it, Ariya had carved her own rhythms. Mornings were spent with Liya, laughing softly over little secrets, swapping stories that belonged only to them, while sunlight spilled through the windows like a gentle promise.Afternoons belonged to motion and laughter: board games scattered across the floor, cards clutched in eager hands, and endless chases across the yard with Evan, whose teasing grin always made her run faster, laugh louder, and feel the warmth of home in every step.
Even in the midst of noise, there were corners Ariya didn't notice at first—edges where laughter softened and voices dimmed just enough for something quieter to exist. That's where Noah lived, though she hadn't known it yet. He wasn't family, not by blood, and he didn't belong to the chaos she had grown up in. He was Evan's neighbor, a presence that had drifted alongside her cousin for years, unnoticed until her attention began to stretch toward him. At first, she barely saw him. The house was too full, her cousins too loud, her siblings too distracting. And yet, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he became visible, less part of the room and more part of the rhythm Ariya hadn't realized she was tuned to.
Sometimes they ended up on the same team during a board game or a silly competition Evan had dragged them into. Not intentionally, just by chance. In those fleeting moments, Ariya began to notice small details: the quiet way he laughed at Evan's jokes, the attentiveness in his gaze, the careful way he moved without demanding attention. He existed on the edges, steady and calm, a quiet constant against a world that never stopped moving.
Life carried on around him. Rooftop games stretched into late afternoons, cousins bickered and laughed, and Liya guided her gently through homework and small life lessons. Noah remained quietly at the edges, blending in effortlessly. Sometimes they laughed together over a silly mistake in a game; other times, a glance across the room was enough to acknowledge each other. Always brief, always casual.
And that was enough, for now.