The clock struck eight. Maya had just finished a long, tiring day at work, her hair pulled back loosely, her face bare of makeup, and wearing comfortable clothes, which she had changed as soon as she arrived. When the knock came at her door, she almost hesitated before opening it.
To her surprise, it was him, the same friend she had stayed up all night for at the hospital. He stood there with a wide smile, fully recovered, not a trace of pain visible.
"Maya!" he greeted, his tone warm, carrying gratitude.
Her lips curved into a small, relieved smile. "You look better… so much better."
"I should," he chuckled, stepping inside when she motioned. "All thanks to you. I don't know what I would have done without you. You… you didn't just look after me, Maya. You became family when I had no one around."
His words made her throat tighten a little. She brushed it off, walking toward the small table. "You're exaggerating. I only did what anyone would do."
"No," he countered softly, sitting down. "Not everyone would do what you did. Staying at the hospital, being there even when it wasn't easy… that means more than I can say. You don't know how much it mattered."
She swallowed hard, suddenly self-conscious. Gratitude was always heavy to carry. She gave a small nod and stood up. "I'll bring you something. Juice?"
"Anything will do," he replied, still smiling.
Maya left the living room, her bare feet padding against the floor as she entered the kitchen. She had just reached for a glass when another knock came. Her brows furrowed. Two visitors in one night? Strange.
She returned to the door, wiping her hands on her loose pajama bottoms, and opened it.
There she was, his girlfriend. Maya's breath caught. The girl's eyes scanned her up and down, briefly narrowing before softening into a practiced smile. '' Is he here?"
Maya froze, her hand still on the doorframe. She hesitated at first, then gave a slight nod, "Yes…" She doesn't even need a welcome; she went in like she was about to declare war. And what would Maya do between a couple standing there and watching their fight, to see who will win this time? Rubbish!
Excusing herself, she left her own apartment, her steps quick towards the terrace. That was where she needed to go. She pushed open the heavy door to the rooftop, cool night air rushing against her flushed cheeks. She walked straight to the railing, gripping it tightly, staring at the glittering city lights below.
Meanwhile, Ryan stood outside Maya's door, his heart pounding. He had seen a man enter earlier. Some guy. A stranger. Quietly, cautiously, he leaned in, pressing his ear against the door.
"I'm sorry, babe, I didn't mean to—"
The words filtered through the walls, muffled but clear enough. Ryan froze, every muscle in his body going rigid. Babe?
The word clawed at his chest. His fists curled unconsciously. He didn't know what it was that gnawed inside him. Jealousy? Anger? Fear? He pulled away abruptly, raking a hand through his hair. His thoughts raced, clashing against each other. Why was he even standing here like this? Why did it matter so much? Because it did. That was the truth he couldn't admit.
The air in the hallway felt suffocating, so he pushed himself upstairs, step after heavy step, until he reached the terrace. And there she was.
Maya.
She stood at the edge, her silhouette framed by the city lights. The wind tugged at her hair, but she didn't move. She looked fragile, like she might break apart if the wind blew too hard.
Ryan took a breath like he was finally relieved after seeing Maya over there, standing in front of his eyes. He didn't know why, but his chest loosened. Like a man who had been drowning for too long and finally found air, he inhaled deeply, relief washing over him. She's here. She's right here.
Ryan stopped dead, his breath catching in his throat. He had never seen her like this. Not the fiery, loud Maya who sparred with him at every turn. Not the smiling sunshine girl who could brighten any room. No, this Maya was quiet. Still. Broken in ways he couldn't name.
He took one step forward, then another, until he was close enough to feel the space between them shrink into something intimate. Ryan stood beside her, careful, hesitant. The silence wrapped around them, but it wasn't suffocating—it was different.
Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly, and the way her hand gripped the railing told him she was holding herself together by a thread. Something inside him cracked.
Was she the reason he couldn't breathe earlier? Was she why his chest felt so heavy, why his thoughts spun out of control?
He didn't know. But standing there, watching her with tears in her eyes, Ryan realized one thing with a certainty that unsettled him—he couldn't stand seeing her like this. Seeing her crying in front of him, and he couldn't do anything to stop those daam tears that didn't belong there. Ryan can never see her like that. Never.
Ryan swallowed hard, his throat dry. His hands itched to reach for her, to pull her away from the railing, to tell her she wasn't alone. But what was the thing that was holding him, his own uncertainty, that kept him frozen? Or something else that he can't name.
All he could do was stand there, silently, his own heart pounding as though it wanted to tear free. The city lights flickered in the distance, dimmed by tears—for both of them. Two people, standing under the same sky, broken in different ways, yet tied together by emotions neither of them dared to speak aloud.
And for the first time, Ryan admitted to himself: He was afraid. Afraid of what she meant to him. Afraid of what he was beginning to feel. Afraid… that she might never forgive him.
The night stretched wide, heavy with silence, the kind that wrapped around everything and yet carried the weight of unsaid things.
Maya turned her head slowly, her lashes still wet, her lips pressed tight as though she didn't want him to see her weakness. Their eyes met.
Ryan's voice came low, almost unsteady, "You won't go this time… right?You won't leave, like always? Every time I come close, you run away. But tonight…" His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze locking on hers. "Tonight, you'll stay?"
Maya let out a bitter laugh, though her voice cracked. "I don't want to sacrifice this beautiful view because of you."
Her words stung, but he didn't move away. He stayed rooted, breathing in the same night air she did. The silence stretched again. Long. Uncomfortable. Yet it tethered them together.
After a while, he broke it, his voice carrying something raw. "So… your boyfriend came?"
Maya froze, her fingers tightening on the railing. No words were uttered by her.
He broke the silence again, "Is he the same man… the one who was in the hospital?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
Her head turned sharply, eyes flashing with hurt. "Why do you care? Anything I tell you, you never believe me. To you, my words are just fake stories, right?"
Her voice rose, trembling not with weakness but with anger. And before he could answer, she spun on her heel, ready to leave, her footsteps echoing across the terrace.
But she stopped. Because something stopped her. His hand. A warm, desperate grip around her wrist.
She turned slowly, shocked. And there he was, Ryan Bennett, the man who always walked away, who always let silence shield him, standing in front of her, holding on as though she were the only anchor he had left.
His eyes weren't cold now. They weren't distant. They were raw, unguarded, full of a plea he couldn't put into words.
"Don't," he whispered. The word broke out of him like a confession, his voice hoarse. "Don't go."
Her breath caught. The anger that burned inside her softened, just for a moment. His grip wasn't forceful; it was trembling, vulnerable. Like he was afraid that if he let go, she'd vanish.
"Ryan…" Her voice faltered.
"Don't," he said again, his gaze never leaving hers. "Not tonight."
Her heart clenched painfully. For the first time, she saw not the arrogant, cold man who had once torn her down with words sharp as knives. She saw someone else, a man, afraid of being left behind, afraid of silence, afraid of her absence.
Her body went still, the fight draining out of her. She didn't pull away. She didn't argue. The night swallowed their silence once more, but it was different this time. Her hand remained in his. And though no words were spoken, though no promises were made, something unspoken passed between them, fragile, delicate, yet unbreakable.
The city lights blinked below, the wind whispered above, and on that terrace, under the wide-open night sky, two hearts stood closer than they ever had before.
Not lovers. Not yet. But something more than strangers. Something more than what either of them had admitted until now.