𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕

𝑺𝒐𝒌𝒌𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒏

Chapter Fifty Seven
Elora

I hoped the warmth in my smile would be enough, a silent promise that whatever had happened between her and Aang hadn't changed a thing between us. Inara stepped off the ship, her eyes flickering with the weight of uncertainty, and I could see the hesitation in her steps. The air between us felt thick, laden with the unspoken, but there was no room for doubt in my heart. How could there be?

I had written to her, letter after letter, to check in on her pouring out words of comfort, of understanding—though none had been returned. I didn't know why. Maybe she was afraid I'd judge her, or worse, that I'd hate her for what happened. But Inara had always been more than her mistakes, more than the silence. She was my friend, family, and that bond ran deeper than anything left unsaid.

As soon as she and Zuko touched the snow-covered ground, I didn't hesitate. I closed the distance between us, pulling them into a hug that felt like both a reunion and a release. The cold South Pole wind nipped at my cheeks, but all I could feel was the warmth of having them back.

"It's so good to see you both again," I whispered against Inara's shoulder, feeling her tension melt beneath my touch. At first, she was stiff, as if the uncertainty she carried had hardened into a shield. But slowly, like ice thawing under the warmth of the sun, she relaxed into the embrace. I held her tighter, as if to say that we're okay.

We fell into our old rhythm, the familiarity wrapping around us like a comfort we both needed. Whatever had happened between her and Aang, it wasn't my place to pry. Inara had always been a private person, guarding her emotions like fragile treasures, and I respected that. As much as curiosity itched at the back of my mind, I knew better. Friendship wasn't about poking at wounds before they were ready to heal.

Even though I was nosy as hell.

Still, I respected her need for space. So we let the quiet moments fill with soft conversation, like snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, each one delicate, but together forming something solid.

"I guess I just can't hide my crazy when I'm angry," I said our conversation about one of my anger bursts as we stood in the kitchen preparing lunch. It was something of a tradition whenever she and Zuko visited. I did the cooking, and she helped plate, a small ritual that gave us time alone, just the two of us.

Inara smirked, a ghost of her usual fire showing through. "I don't think you're trying too hard," she teased, setting another plate on the tray.

I laughed. "Maybe I just like being genuine with people."

"Genuine as you attempt murder?"

"Stop, I don't murder. I'm a nomad, for god's sake. Plus, Aang would never approve."

The mention of Aang sent a ripple through the air, the lightness in her face disappearing. I cursed myself for bringing him up. The shadow fell over her features again, a heavy cloud that was hard to miss.

I hesitated before speaking, softer this time. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Inara shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Not right now," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth.

I nodded, offering a quiet smile. But the words slipped out anyway, a soft reassurance for the silence between us. "It's a hard life, Inara, and what happened to you... it doesn't make you any less wanted."

Her gaze flickered toward me, uncertain but searching, as if she wanted to believe what I said but wasn't sure how. The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting the vulnerability she always tried so hard to hide. For a moment, it was just us—no titles, no expectations, just two friends navigating the weight of unspoken truths.