Ayisha straightened and pointed toward a ride shaped like a giant spinning wheel.
"That one," she said. "Looks harmless."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "That's usually a lie."
"Then let's test it."
The ride was faster than it looked.
Ayisha gripped the safety bar as the world tilted, lights smearing into violent streaks of color. The ground vanished. Her stomach dropped. For a few seconds, everything scattered, anger, guilt, fear gone. There was only motion. Wind. The sharp rush of being somewhere else entirely.
When the ride finally slowed, she laughed breathlessly, hair clinging to her face.
"Okay," she admitted, still catching her breath. "That helped."
Simon smiled small, genuine. "Told you. Temporary chaos works wonders."
They walked again after that, slower this time. Ayisha noticed how the noise didn't feel as sharp anymore, how the weight in her chest loosened just a little. Not gone. Just quieter.
She glanced at Simon. He was watching the crowd, eyes distant, like part of him had drifted somewhere else.
"Hey," she said.
He turned to her.
"Thanks for not asking questions."
He shrugged lightly. "You'll talk when you're ready. Or you won't. Either way's fine."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Above them, the Ferris wheel turned slowly, lights blinking like distant stars steady, patient, waiting.
Simon watched her gaze drift upward, lost in thought. He shifted his weight, tapping his foot against the ground, then looked away.
Ayisha noticed.
"Want to grab a drink?" she asked softly.
He smiled. "Sure."
---
They ended up outside a convenience store. The wind brushed against her cheek as she set the bottles down on the small plastic table.
"I told you, I'll pay," Simon said, sitting across from her.
"Hush. You already paid enough for me," she shot back.
He chuckled.
"By the way," she said, popping the cap off a bottle and handing it to him, "why Star City? The entrance fee's expensive."
"Drink up," she added with a smile.
He took a small sip.
Ayisha opened her own and took a long gulp. "Sarap."
"Take it easy, princess."
She glared at him. "Don't call me that."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Why? It's your first name."
"I don't like it." She looked away and drank again.
"I'm sorry…" she muttered.
"You don't have—"
"I lied," she cut in. "About having a good day."
She exhaled sharply. "My sister's such a pain in the ass. She took my money and lied about school projects. You know where it went? To the guy she likes. And he doesn't even look trustworthy."
She finished the bottle and opened another.
"She's already twenty," Ayisha continued, voice tightening. "And she still doesn't see it. That money was supposed to be for Mom's medicine. For our bills."
Her last words came out brittle.
By the time she opened a third bottle, Simon still hadn't finished his first.
He watched her quietly. He could see it the way she held herself together by force alone, the tears threatening but never falling.
He wanted to reach for her. Pull her close. Tell her it was okay to stop being strong.
But he didn't.
He stayed where he was, hands clenched loosely in his lap, giving her the one thing he could without crossing a line space.