Chapter 13
“I’m home,” Riya announced tiredly as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, finally!”
Her mom, Asma, stood by the fridge, still dressed in work clothes, carefully organizing leftovers from dinner.
Asma worked as an interior designer; she owned her own design firm, and her work had been featured in design magazines across
the country. And yet, somehow, she always made time for her family, insisting on showing up for every one of her daughters’
plays and games and random extracurriculars. Even if, as Riya insisted often, she didn’t need to.
Riya sometimes wondered where her mom found the energy for it all. Though the family’s peri magic wasn’t strong in her mom
like it was in Sirah khala, maybe this was how it’d manifested instead: an endless battery. Riya could use some of that energy right now.
Her mom crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides and enveloped Riya in a warm hug. Her hands cradled Riya’s face. “Uff,
you look exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Before Riya could answer, her mom pressed a hand to her forehead. “You’re not sick, thank God.” Then, with a knowing look, she gestured to a bowl of chicken curry and rice on the counter, covered in Saran Wrap. “Heat this up. You’ve got to stop neglecting meals on top of everything else.”
Her dad, Nadeem, entered with a stack of board games, setting them down on the kitchen table. “Late day again, huh? Where
were you holed up this time?”
“Library,” Riya answered, making for the microwave.
“Working on your essay?” Amara’s voice floated in from the living room, her head popping up over the back of the couch.
If things were normal, she would be. Riya shoved the plate inside and hit the timer.
“No, just . . . research. Mom, have you heard anything from Sirah khala?”
Her dad glanced up.
Amara shifted slightly. A flicker of interest.
Her mom shook her head. “No, she’s still off gallivanting in Finland. You know it’s always been her dream to see the aurora.
Her last email said something about a sled dog tour—but I couldn’t tell if she meant a guide with sled dogs, or an actual dog leading her—”
“So, she’s not coming back anytime soon?”
A small, ridiculous part of her had imagined Sirah khala walking through the door, a solution to all Riya’s curse-related
problems on a silver platter—without Riya having to say a single word.
But that was wishful thinking.
And for some reason, she could still hear Kian’s voice in the car, comparing the very magic that was ruining both their lives to something beautiful. And for one treacherous moment, she’d almost let herself believe him.
She was losing her mind.
Amara glanced up, mouth curling in a small smile. “Are you asking because you still need help with that hypothetical peri
question?”
“Oooh, yes!” Nyra appeared at the top of the stairs, already in her lounge clothes. “Have you come up with anything?”
Their mother’s eyes lit up with curiosity. She slammed the fridge door shut, the excitement in her voice unmistakable. “What
hypothetical peri question?” She turned to Riya, her hopeful gaze locking on her. “Are you . . . are you researching peris?”
Riya’s pulse raced.
If they knew what she’d done—how would they look at her? Would they be pleased that she’d at least tried?
Or would they be disappointed all over again?
“No!” she snapped, a little too quickly, a little too sharply. She swallowed hard. “It was just . . . one question. It’s nothing.”
“. . . Oh.” Her mom’s hopeful expression crumbled before she quickly smoothed it over again. Except Riya had already seen
it: how the light had dimmed in her eyes.
Her dad, too, watched carefully now, his thick eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.
Riya looked away. The sudden quiet in the kitchen felt like a cold draft, and the only sound was the microwave humming away, counting down.
Amara and Nyra exchanged a glance before Amara cleared her throat. This time, her smile was more measured. “Well, you know
if it ever becomes . . . less hypothetical, you can always ask us, right?”
“I know,” said Riya, her heart still thudding hard against her ribs. “. . . Thanks.”
The microwave began to beep, and Riya, grateful for the interruption, removed her bowl of chicken curry.
She knew her family meant well. They always did.
But tonight, she just wanted to be left alone.
“It’s board game night,” Nyra chirped suddenly. “You should play this time, Riya. We’re debating between Anomia and Exploding
Kittens.”
From the couch, their dad groaned. “Those games are too stressful. Can’t we just play Scrabble? Something normal?”
Nyra placed a gentle hand on Riya’s shoulder. “So? Are you joining?”
Riya didn’t need to answer—Nyra probably already knew.
“Not tonight,” she murmured anyway, clutching her bowl—though she wasn’t exactly hungry anymore.
“Right.” Nyra smiled, but it was smaller now. “I know you’re busy. But we’ll miss you. We always do.”
Riya nodded and hurried up the stairs, as if she could outrun the sound of their voices.
She wished Amara hadn’t brought up her little hypothetical—brought attention to it. Attention she couldn’t deal with right
now. Because for one awful second, she’d felt it—her mom’s eyes, lingering. Like she didn’t want to scare Riya off. Like there was still a chance she might be coming back
to them.
Riya shut her door behind her, set her dinner down untouched, and flipped open her laptop.
Then she pulled up every digital archive she could think of.
Letting out a long breath through her nose, she clicked through page after page in her browser. The text blurred, her swollen,
tired eyes burning.
Even if Kian didn’t understand the stakes. Even if the world refused to give her answers—
Giving up was not an option.