Anya - Vyas

“Why’d you run?”

Anya sat down beside her, leaving a careful foot of space. “Your brother’s losing his mind.” anya vyas

Anya looked away first. Always look away. “Why’d you run

“I knew you’d come,” Mira said, not turning around. “I knew you’d come,” Mira said, not turning around

Anya’s blood went cold. That was her family’s old shop. Closed fifteen years ago, after her father died. Mira had been photographed there as a child.

Mira finally looked at her. Up close, she was older than the photograph—mid-thirties, with crow’s feet that looked earned, not aged. “Because getting better is exhausting. And you… you said something on the bridge that night. You said, ‘The world doesn’t need you to be fixed. It needs you to be honest.’ So I’m being honest. I don’t want to be saved again. I want to be seen.”