They stayed in that yellow room for a while, long after the humming stopped.
Jake leaned back against the wall, the broken guitar resting beside him, while Hriva stretched out on the faded floorboards, her head nestled in his lap. The sunlight moved across them slowly, like time had softened inside that space.
"Did you ever sneak out through that window?" Hriva asked, pointing with a lazy finger.
Jake laughed quietly. "Once. I got stuck halfway and scraped my ribs on the ledge. My mom found me hanging there, cursing the universe."
Hriva grinned. "Let me guess. She brought cookies."
"Two kinds. Chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin. One to forgive me, the other to punish me."
They laughed together, the sound bouncing gently off the empty walls.
A bird sang outside. Somewhere in the distance, windchimes stirred on an unseen porch.
Hriva sat up and looked around the room again. "I love this place. It feels like a memory I wasn't part of… but somehow still understand."
Jake watched her for a moment. "Want to see the backyard?"
She nodded, brushing dust off her jeans.
They walked through the creaky house, passing the old bathroom with the seashell sink and the living room with the sagging armchair. When they stepped outside, the backyard greeted them with long grass and wild dandelions swaying like tiny suns.
"This tree," Jake said, walking over to an old oak near the fence. "I used to sit under it every day after school."
He knelt and brushed away some dirt near the roots. Hriva moved beside him and gasped.
Carved into the bark, still faint but visible, was a jagged heart. Inside it: J + M.
"Who was M?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
Jake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Melissa Carter. Fifth grade. I gave her my fruit snacks at lunch for three weeks, and she let me hold her hand during math. That was about as serious as it got."
Hriva grinned. "Should I be jealous?"
"Only if you've got fruit snacks."
They sat beneath the tree, leaning against its thick trunk. Hriva took a dandelion from the grass and twirled it between her fingers. "Do you ever think about coming back here?"
Jake's expression softened. "I used to want to fix it up. Make it whole again. But lately, I don't think it needs fixing. It just needs someone to remember it."
She rested her head on his shoulder, and they stayed like that, soaking in the calm, the history, the fragments of a boy who had learned how to feel through music and silence.
Eventually, Jake's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and groaned.
"It's Ian. He and a few of our old friends are meeting up at that little bar by the lake. He says I owe him a drink for ditching early last night."
Hriva raised a brow. "You want to go?"
He tilted his head. "Would you come with me?"
She hesitated for a second, but her smile bloomed anyway. "Sure. Let me meet more of your world."
Jake leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You're already the best part of it."
The bar by the lake was low-lit and humming with warmth. A jukebox played something bluesy in the corner, and the wood-paneled walls smelled faintly of lemon oil and old stories.
Ian stood near a pool table, already waving at them. A few others gathered around. Jake's old bandmates, one of his high school buddies, and a girl named Kendra who clearly remembered him better than he remembered her.
Hriva's hand found Jake's without effort, fingers interlocking like they were made to.
Introductions happened fast. Drinks were poured. Someone called out an old nickname for Jake "String Man" and the teasing began.
Hriva watched as Jake relaxed into the crowd, shoulders loose, eyes gleaming. He laughed easily, traded stories with the others, and every so often, his gaze would flick to her. Like a tether, reminding them both that even in the noise, their connection was the quiet constant.
When Jake wandered off with Ian to grab another round, Kendra slid into the seat beside Hriva.
"So," she said, swirling her drink. "How long have you two been together?"
Hriva smiled. "Not long, but it already feels like… forever. In the best way."
Kendra leaned in slightly. "Just a heads-up. Jake's kind of the 'fall hard' type. He's real. Honest. Doesn't play games. Which makes him rare."
Hriva's chest tightened slightly, not in fear, but in weight. The weight of knowing what she had. The weight of realizing she didn't want to ever let it go.
She nodded. "I know. And I'm not here to play either."
Kendra gave a small smile and raised her glass. "Then I'm happy for him."
Jake returned just then, placing a drink in front of Hriva and stealing a kiss from her temple. Kendra slid away quietly, and Jake raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"
"Girl talk," Hriva said, sipping her drink.
"Should I be worried?"
"No," she said, meeting his eyes. "You should be sure."
Jake's lips curved. "I already am."
That night, after the laughter and the pool games, after Jake's terrible attempt at karaoke and the drive home with her head on his shoulder, they sat in his truck outside her place.
Neither moved to leave.
The moon hung low. The world was still.
Hriva turned to him and whispered, "You've let me into so many parts of your life this weekend."
Jake looked at her, serious now. "That's because you belong in every part."
And for the first time, Hriva didn't feel like a visitor in someone else's love story.
She felt like the center of it.