Unspoken

CHAPTER 6 : The weight of enough

THIRD PERSON POV

The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting everything in golden light. Mikha leaned back against the tree, letting the cool evening breeze brush against her skin. She could feel Y/n's presence beside her, quiet but charged, like the calm before the storm.

Mikha had always been good at reading people—an unspoken skill she'd developed over the years of navigating the highs and lows of her life in the spotlight. And right now, Y/n was practically radiating unease, her thoughts a storm Mikha could sense but couldn't quite see.

Mikha let her eyes drift closed, hoping the silence would coax Y/n into speaking first. She wasn't the type to push, especially when it came to moments like this—moments that felt too delicate to disturb.

But when the silence stretched too long, Mikha glanced over, catching the way Y/n's brow furrowed, her gaze distant.

"You okay?" Mikha asked softly.

Y/n blinked, like she hadn't realized Mikha was watching her. "Yeah, just thinking."

Mikha tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thinking about what?"

Y/n hesitated, and Mikha caught the way her shoulders tensed, like she was bracing herself for something. "About what you said earlier," Y/n murmured. "About... being enough."

Mikha sat up a little straighter, her attention fully on Y/n now. She hadn't expected those words to linger with her, but the way Y/n's voice wavered told Mikha just how deeply they had.

"You don't believe it, do you?" Mikha asked gently.

The way Y/n's expression faltered—eyes downcast, hands fidgeting in her lap—hit Mikha harder than she expected. She wanted to reach out, to ease whatever weight Y/n was carrying, but she also knew better than to push too fast.

"I want to," Y/n admitted, her voice barely audible. "I really do. But I don't know how. I don't know how to stop feeling like I'm... not enough."

Mikha's chest tightened. She knew that feeling all too well—the nagging voice that whispered you weren't good enough, no matter how much you gave. But hearing it from Y/n, someone she was slowly coming to understand, made it feel different.

"Y/n," Mikha said softly, carefully, "you don't have to have it all figured out right now. It's okay not to know."

Y/n shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her. "You say that like it's easy. But you don't get it, Mikha. People like you—you're so confident, so... sure of yourself. You don't have to deal with this. You wouldn't understand."

Mikha let out a quiet laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was so far from the truth. "You think I don't deal with this?" she asked, her voice light but firm. "Y/n, everyone has doubts. You're not the only one."

Y/n finally looked at her, her eyes searching Mikha's face as if trying to find cracks in her composure. Mikha held her gaze, steady and unflinching, hoping Y/n could see the truth she wasn't saying.

"It's not about being perfect," Mikha continued. "It's about knowing that you don't have to be. You're allowed to be who you are, flaws and all. That's enough."

Y/n's gaze dropped again, her hands twisting nervously. "I don't know what to do with that," she whispered.

Mikha reached out then, her hand resting lightly on Y/n's. It wasn't much, just a small gesture, but it felt right. She felt Y/n still under her touch, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.

"Then don't do anything," Mikha said with a small smile. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. Just... let yourself be. No pressure. No expectations. Just this."

Y/n's eyes lifted to meet hers again, wide and uncertain, but something in them shifted. It wasn't quite acceptance, but it was close.

Mikha's smile softened. "I think sometimes we're so worried about what we're supposed to be or what we think others want from us that we forget to just... exist. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Y/n. Not to me, not to anyone else."

Y/n didn't respond right away, but Mikha didn't need her to. She could see it in the way Y/n's shoulders slowly relaxed, in the way her breathing evened out.

"Maybe I can try that," Y/n said quietly after a long pause.

Mikha's chest warmed at the words, and her smile widened. "That's all that matters. Just try. That's more than enough."

The moment stretched between them, quiet and full. Mikha let herself savor it, the calm that settled over them like a soft blanket.

In that quiet, unspoken space, Mikha made a promise to herself. She would show Y/n that she was worth it. Despite the doubts, the insecurities, and the fear, Y/n was enough. She had always been enough.

And Mikha would make sure Y/n knew that, even if it took time.