Following after Illyia, Ronan climbed down the staircase and arrived in her apartment. Compared to his own apartment, her apartment was much larger. It was occupying the entire ground floor. It had one hall, two rooms and a bathroom and kitchen. It was better furnished too with almost all the basic amenities like sofa, dining table, television, refrigerator. And given that she lived alone, it was neat and clean and very well organised.

"Have a seat," Illyia said.

Ronan nodded and took his seat on the dining table. It was not the first time he would be having food in her apartment.

Before this he had been invited a couple of times. Just like this time, the previous two times had also not been an invitation for a special occasion but something that had come up in casual conversation.

A couple of minutes later, Illyia emerged from the kitchen carrying bonds and plates. She sat on the vertical end of the table while Ronan was sitting on her left arm.

Food was served. It was grilled chicken with a batch of stir fried vegetables.

"It is quite good," he complimented her genuinely after having a couple of bites.

He did not really have home made food often. Well, he himself cooked once everyday but it was all casual and just enough for sustenance. It was nothing fancy. He did not really put an effort into it. And he was genuinely enjoying the dinner.

"How are your studies going?" Illyia questioned.

"Fine," he replied.

Illyia nodded absent mindedly. They continued to eat in silence for a couple of minutes before she took a deep breath. It was obvious that she was preparing herself to say something.

"Ronan," she said. "You might have to leave the apartment in a month and look for some place else."

Ronan was stunned as he heard this. There was not a single reason he could think of for this sudden eviction.

"Why?" He questioned.

An expression of hesitation appeared on her face. She was wondering whether she should come clean or not. She took another deep breath.

"Ronan, look," she said. "There is no problem with you. In fact, you are as good a tenant as anyone could expect."

Ronan raised his eyebrows waiting for her to continue.

"This house is not in my name," She said, surprising him. "Or it seems so."

"My husband had bought this house eight years ago from his hard earned money and a bit of inheritance received by his father," she said. "We were not very literate, especially in finance and matters of property."

"And who would have thought that he would die?" She added with a small sob as a drop of tear emerged from her eyes.

Ronan was not sure how to react to this vulnerable side of Illyia. Even so, he inched slightly closer to her as if forming a protective circle around her.

"What happened next?" He asked.

Illyia took a deep breath and she calmed her emotions.

"As I said, since we were not very knowledgeable, my husband did not execute any will or neither did he take any other legal measures," she said.

"A couple of weeks after his death, his brother, my brother-in-law, sent a legal notice to me claiming that this house belonged to him and I needed to evacuate it."

"I was shocked and could not believe what was happening," she continued. "From whatever little law I knew, I was the sole heir to whatever property and wealth my husband had left behind."

"But my brother-in-law claimed in the court that my husband had left a will. And as per the will, my husband had left this home to my brother-in-law."

"The case continued in court for five long years. And now it seems that the judgement of the case will come out soon."

"And you think, it will not be in your favour," Ronan remarked.

"Yes," she nodded, her face dim, "I could not prove in the court that the will which my brother-in-law was claiming of my husband was forged."

"And it might be far-fetched," she added with a tint of hesitation in her voice, "but I believe that the judge is in some kind of cohort with my brother-in-law. He has bribed the judge."

Though Illyia was trying to keep herself calm but despite all her efforts, she was not able to hold back her tears. It had been five years since her husband’s death.

And since then, she has had a tough life. She was all alone and though she had a few relatives, there was hardly anyone whom she trusted even barely. She had to keep all her struggles and emotions and worries bottled inside herself. All that had suddenly erupted in front of almost a stranger. She was hardly able to control herself.

Ronan did not know how to react. He leaned in even further and out of pure instinct took her hands in his own hands and started to rub his palms against hers. Illyia, on the other hand, was almost shocked. His hands rubbing against hers and his presence so close to her was sending jolts through her body.

Despite this she did not pull her hands away. She knew Ronan’s intentions were not anything wrong and she would not want to agree but she was enjoying the feeling. No. Not the physical feeling but the emotional support.

Someone caring about her, even if she was not sure if that care was genuine or merely an act, was making her heart light and for the first time in a long time, she was feeling better and was getting slightly over vulnerability.

"All of it should be fine," Ronan mumbled.

Illyia, now feeling much better nodded her head. They remained silent for a couple of moments. Her hands were still gripped in his hands. Her heart was still pounding and slowly redness was creeping on her face. But she did not pull her hands back.

Ronan let go of her hands and brought his attention back to the food in front of him.

"All right," he remarked. "Enough of this. Eat your food. Whatever happens, happens. It is not as if you can do much about it."

"And I do have a gut feeling that everything will turn up for the better," he added with an encouraging smile. "Tears do not suit your beautiful face."

"You and your sweet talk," Illyia responded with a shy smile and Ronan was almost caught off guard by her response.

He had caught her hands instinctively and had started wondering if she might have not liked it. But her reaction was something else. She was shy and seemed happy. A grin spread across his lips.

"I am not sweet talking," he responded. "I am only stating the truth."

Illyia only smiled this time and did not say anything. The duo finished their food in a comfortable silence.

"I will return to my room today," Ronan said after finishing his dinner. "And thank you for this pleasant dinner."

"Hmm," Illyia mumbled. "You are welcome."

They exchanged one last nod before Ronan exited her apartment, walked towards the staircase and climbed to his own room.

.

.

.

[Add the book to your collection. Send it some power stones. Tell me your opinion about the book. Leave a comment. Give the story an honest rating and a review.]