Thalya's house was, indeed, quiet. But it wasn't the oppressive silence of Seina's house, the kind that weighed on the ears and announced a coming storm. It was a wide, serene silence, like that of a sleeping forest.
The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something sweet Seina couldn't identify.
"You can leave your backpack there," Thalya pointed to a corner of the living room, lit only by a lamp. "I'll see what we have for dinner."
While Thalya disappeared into the kitchen, Seina stood still, looking around the room. It was clean, almost austere, but with small signs of life: a colorful blanket thrown over the couch, a few books stacked on the floor, a piano against the wall. It felt like the refuge of someone who knew how to live with herself.
Before long, a delicious smell of garlic and spices began to fill the room. Thalya returned with two steaming bowls of simple pasta that looked like the best thing in the world to Seina at that moment.
"It's what we had," Thalya said with a shrug.
They sat down to eat. With a naturalness that fascinated Seina, Thalya sat directly on the rug, her back resting against the couch. Seina, out of habit or shyness, curled up in a corner of the couch, her legs drawn to her chest, balancing the bowl in her lap.
The TV was on some random channel, volume low, showing a romantic comedy neither of them was really watching. It was just background, white noise to fill the space between them. They ate in silence, but it was a different silence from all the others Seina knew. It was peaceful. It was company.
Then a soft sound caught both their attention: a persistent tapping at the living room window.
Thalya smiled, as if she had been expecting it.
"It's her," she said, getting up with the agility of a cat.
Seina watched her, intrigued. Thalya carefully opened the window, and a pale, round figure landed on her outstretched forearm. It was an owl, small and strikingly white, with huge yellowish eyes that glowed in the lamplight.
"Hi, cutie," Thalya whispered, in a voice Seina had never heard before, full of maternal sweetness. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
With her free hand, she picked up a small piece of raw chicken that had already been set aside in a bowl nearby and offered it to the bird. The owl pecked delicately at the food, allowing Thalya to run her fingers through the soft feathers on its chest.
It was a moment of pure magic, such a natural and intimate connection that Seina held her breath. In that soft light, stroking the nocturnal creature, Thalya didn't look like the girl haunted by death. She looked incredibly vibrant and deeply alive.
After a few moments, the owl left as silently as it had arrived. Thalya closed the window and turned back to Seina, meeting her wide eyes.
"She shows up some day every week," she explained with a smile. "I think she likes the smell of the food."
Later, at bedtime, came the standoff.
"You're taking the bed," Thalya announced, already pulling an air mattress and some blankets from the closet.
"No way!" Seina protested, feeling like an intruder. "This is your house. I'll sleep on the floor."
"It's decided," Thalya shot back, inflating the mattress with a determination that left no room for argument. "You're my guest. And after the day you had, you deserve the soft bed."
Thalya's bed really was soft, with clean sheets that carried the same gentle scent as her. Seina lay down, listening to the quiet sounds of Thalya settling onto the air mattress on the floor, on the other side of the dark room.
The exhaustion was deep, but sleep wouldn't come. Seina's mind spun with the images of the day: her parents' argument, the market, the singing in the store, the owl, the quiet dinner. There was so much stillness, so much peace, that it felt… strange. And good.
"Thalya?" her voice came out low in the dark.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For… for everything." Seina swallowed, searching for the right words. "I… I don't remember when was the last time I had dinner in front of a TV. With company, then. Thank you for today."
From the floor came the answer, soft and sleepy.
"We can do it again tomorrow. And the day after, too, if you want."
It was an invitation to more than just dinner. It was an invitation to belong to the house.
"I want to," Seina whispered, and for the first time in a very, very long while, a true, peaceful smile touched her lips as she closed her eyes, feeling, finally, in a safe place.