“Ugh… rain just had to start now, huh?” She stands at your doorstep, soaked to the skin, hair clinging to her face, eyes flashing with that same mix of arrogance and uncertainty you know too well. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she mutters, stepping inside, dripping onto your floor. “It’s not like I wanted to come here… I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

She glares at you over her shoulder as she sits down on your couch with an annoyed huff. A towel draped around her shoulders does little to hide the way water drips onto the floor, leaving wet footprints in its wake. "Great, now I'm making a mess," she grumbles.

"You know where the extra towels are," you say, gesturing toward the bathroom. She ignores you, stubbornly refusing your help. The silence stretches between you;

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, trying to look irritated even though the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, I'm sure that would make all the difference," she mutters sarcastically. But when you offer her a hoodie anyway, she can't help but feel slightly touched. It's a small gesture, but it's more than anyone else has done for her in a long time.

"Fine, whatever,"

When she emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in your hoodie, her cheeks are pink and she avoids eye contact. She sits back down on the couch, tugging at the drawstring of the hoodie nervously. "Thanks," she mumbles, not quite meeting your gaze.

The silence stretches out again, heavier this time. Mina can feel herself fidgeting, wishing she could think of something witty or sarcastic to say but coming up empty.

She glances over at the table where you've set out a cup of steaming tea. "Thanks," she says quietly, taking a sip. The warmth spreads through her, and for a moment, she almost feels calm. Almost. But then she remembers why she's here in the first place, and the tension begins to build again.

"So, uh..." She trails off, not sure what to say next.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she blurts out, surprising herself as much as you. "You don't deserve any of that." There's a pause, and then she adds, almost inaudibly, "You're actually kinda nice..." She immediately scrunches up her nose, annoyed at herself for saying that.

"Well," she says slowly, "that makes two of us." She takes another sip of tea, her eyes darting away from yours. "I've had my fair share of jerks too. Maybe that's why we... you know..." Her voice trails off again as she struggles to find the right words.

But then something shifts between you, a moment of understanding that neither of you expected. And in that instant, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it doesn't have to be like this anymore.

Her heart races as she searches your eyes for any sign of mockery. Finding none, she takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. "I'm sorry," she says again, more softly this time. "For everything." She pauses, gathering courage. "If you want me to leave... I mean, I could go..."

She studies your expression, trying to gauge whether you're being sincere or just humoring her. A tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth, and for a moment she thinks that maybe it doesn't matter either way; maybe this is enough. "Thanks," she says quietly, feeling lighter than she has in months.

The silence stretches out again, but this time it feels different. More comfortable. And as the minutes tick by, she finds herself more and more at ease with just being here, sharing this moment with you.

Her cheeks flush pink at the unexpected confession. She laughs, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled gasp. "Really?" she manages to choke out. "Well... I mean, I'm sorry for being such a jerk about it." She shrugs, trying to play it off as no big deal.

But deep down, she can't help but feel a little flattered that you found some enjoyment in her teasing.

She laughs nervously, looking away. "Oh, no, that's okay... I shouldn't impose..." But as the thought of sleeping on your couch weighs down on her, she can feel herself starting to cave. It'd be so much better than trying to find a way home in the middle of the night, wet and cold.

"Well... if you don't mind...?" She trails off, barely daring to hope that you'll say yes.

Nodding gratefully, Mina takes off her shoes and climbs into the bed in your guest room. The sheets smell faintly of laundry detergent, but they're soft against her skin. As she lies there, eyes slowly drifting shut, she can't help but wonder what this all means.

Maybe it's just a fluke; maybe you're not as nice as she thought. Or maybe... maybe tonight was the beginning of something new.

She's had nightmares like this before: the relentless pounding of rain on the windows, the darkness pressing in around her, making even the safest places feel claustrophobic. So when another gust of wind rattles the window panes and sends a shiver down her spine, she decides it's time to take matters into her own hands.

Carefully, she slips out of bed, careful not to wake you up, and makes her way over to your side.

She freezes when she hears your voice, heart racing as she debates whether to come clean or pretend she was never there in the first place. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I couldn't sleep with that noise..." She gestures weakly toward the window before ducking down further under the covers, burying herself against your warm body.

She stiffens at first, unsure how to react to your offer. Then, slowly but surely, she begins to relax into the embrace; it feels... nice. Safe. Like nothing else matters in this moment except the two of you, together under the covers. She nestles closer, enjoying the warmth and strength that radiates from your body, and for a fleeting instant she allows herself to imagine that maybe things could be different between them.

But just as quickly, reality sets back in, and she knows she can't stay here forever.