Zoya walked through the garden behind the mansion each morning, barefoot on the damp grass. It was the only place in the house that felt alive - with blooming jasmine, chirping sparrows, and the memory of sunlight not blocked by curtains.
She'd begun to talk to the plants.
"Today he looked at me," she whispered one morning, kneeling beside a flowering bush. "Not kindly. But still, he saw me."
Ayaan watched her once from the upstairs window. She was laughing at a squirrel, feeding it crumbs. That laugh - light and honest - irritated him. How could she be happy here?
---
Zoya cooked his meals, even though he barely touched them. She arranged his shoes by the door, even when he kicked them aside. She waited until he returned each night, even if only to see the headlights flash through the gate.
One day, she left a small book on his desk - The Little Prince. A note inside read: "Sometimes, the most important things are invisible to the eyes."
He tossed the book aside.
---
One evening, Ayaan returned home late. He smelled of alcohol and frustration. Zoya opened the door.
"You didn't need to wait," he muttered.
"I wasn't waiting. I just heard the gate."
"Stop pretending, Zoya!" he barked. "You want me to love you? Is that it? You think your kindness will fix me?"
She didn't flinch. "No. I just don't want you to feel alone."
That answer silenced him.
He walked past her, up the stairs. But for the first time, he paused. Just one second.
Zoya clung to that second like sunlight in winter.
---
Every night, she lit a small candle by the window and whispered into the dark, "I know there's love inside you, Ayaan. I will wait for the day it speaks."
And so, she waited - with hope as her only companion.