The mornings felt different now, quieter somehow. Maya had grown accustomed to the sound of Kian's breath, steady and calm beside her, but there was an unspoken tension that lingered in the air. She wasn't sure if it was her own unease or if Kian felt it too, but they both moved around the apartment like strangers, trying to find new rhythms in the aftermath of the conversations that had shaken their world.
Maya stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands resting against the sink as she stared at her reflection. She looked different. Not in a physical sense, but in the way someone does when they've faced a truth they weren't ready for. She was no longer the woman who lived in the illusion of certainty. She was becoming something else, something raw, untethered.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the silence. It was a message from Zara.
You good?
Maya sighed and typed back.
I don't know, honestly. It's just... a lot right now.
The reply came almost immediately.
Take it one step at a time. You're not alone in this.
Maya smiled faintly at the words, grateful for the reminder that she had someone in her corner. She hadn't realized how much she needed that reassurance until now.
Kian had spent the morning in his office, eyes glued to his laptop, though Maya could see the weariness etched in the lines of his face. It had been a few days since their last conversation, and while things had been somewhat calm, the undercurrent of tension never fully disappeared. She knew he was trying—he was trying to understand himself, trying to make things right—but the weight of his past kept pulling him back, and she wasn't sure how long either of them could keep pretending that everything was fine.
She walked into the living room, where Kian was sitting on the couch, papers scattered around him. He looked up as she entered, his expression tired but hopeful.
"Maya," he said softly, "I've been thinking about what we talked about. About therapy. I called a place today. I want to make this work, and I know that means putting in the work myself."
Maya nodded, but something in her chest tightened. "I'm glad you're taking the first step. But I need to ask you something. Do you think therapy will fix this? Fix us?"
Kian's brow furrowed slightly as he set his pen down. "I don't think therapy will fix everything. But I think it's a start. It's a way for us to rebuild, to find a way forward. And I want that, Maya. I really do."
"I want it too," she said quietly, sitting down next to him. "But I need to know if we're both fighting for this, or if I'm the only one trying to make it work."
Kian's eyes softened, and he reached for her hand. "I don't want you to feel like you're fighting alone. I'm here. But I need you to understand that I'm not perfect. I'm a mess sometimes, and I don't know if I can always be what you need me to be. But I'll try. For us."
Maya's heart ached at his words. It was all so raw, so real. She hadn't signed up for perfection, but for a partnership, for a love that was messy and unfiltered. And yet, she found herself wondering if she was strong enough to carry both of their burdens.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared that I'll keep waiting for you to be ready, and I'll lose myself in the process. I don't want to look back one day and realize I've become someone I don't recognize."
Kian squeezed her hand tightly, his voice low but steady. "I don't want you to lose yourself either, Maya. I promise, I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't. But you have to trust me, just a little bit longer."
Maya's mind raced, her emotions swirling. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe that this wasn't a dead end. But the fear—the constant fear of being hurt again—was too close, too raw.
"I don't know if I can trust you completely yet," she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
Kian's face softened, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. "I don't expect you to, Maya. I'm not asking you to trust me right away. I'm just asking for a chance to prove that I can be the person you need me to be."
She didn't reply right away. Instead, she looked down at their joined hands, feeling the weight of the decision before her. Her heart still ached with the fear of what might come next, but part of her wanted to believe that love, real love, was worth the risk. That the fight—their fight—was worth the pain.
But it was hard, so hard, to convince herself that they could make it through the storm.
The days that followed felt like a slow unraveling. Therapy was scheduled, but neither of them felt ready for it. Kian had spent the last few days journaling—something he hadn't done since high school—and Maya had tried to give him space, though it felt like she was walking on eggshells, waiting for something to snap.
She spent more time at her office, buried in work, her mind constantly drifting to Kian and the complicated web of emotions they were tangled in. The hours passed in a blur, and before she knew it, the week had slipped away, leaving her exhausted, both physically and mentally.
One evening, after a long day at the office, Maya returned home to find Kian sitting at the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands. He looked up when she entered, his eyes red-rimmed and tired.
"Maya, I—" He paused, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to make this right. I don't know how to fix everything I've broken."
Maya's heart twisted in her chest. She walked over to him, kneeling beside his chair, and gently cupped his face. "You don't have to fix everything, Kian. You don't have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. That's all I need."
His eyes softened, and he exhaled slowly. "I'm trying, Maya. I really am. I just... I don't know where to start."
"You start by being here," she said softly. "And by letting me be here with you. You don't have to carry this alone. Not anymore."
He nodded, his hands trembling as he reached for hers. "Thank you for not giving up on me."
Maya squeezed his hand, her voice quiet but steady. "I haven't given up on you. I haven't given up on us. But we have to face this together, Kian. No more hiding."
For a moment, they sat there in the quiet, the weight of their words hanging between them. The storm wasn't over, but maybe, just maybe, they were starting to learn how to weather it together.