Friday was here sooner than expected, by the time I reached Ethan's apartment, my stomach was already doing small gymnastics routines.
He opened the door in jeans, barefoot, wearing that ridiculous 'Kiss the Cook' apron from college.
"Don't judge," he said. "This apron survived three apartments, two breakups, and one very unfortunate soufflé."
"I'm mostly impressed it's clean." I responded light-heartedly.
Behind him, the kitchen smelled like sautéed garlic and roasted peppers, like every comfort food had made a pact to seduce me.
"Welcome to Maythan's fine dining," he said, bowing dramatically. "Tonight's chef's special: risotto that won't double as construction adhesive."
I laughed, stepping inside. "That's a bold claim and I see what you did there, with the name."
He handed me a glass of wine, smiling. "Taste and see."
I took in the room for the first time.
Tonight, he'd lit candles and queued up jazz that pretended not to be romantic.
The kitchen was a battlefield of chopped herbs, simmering pans, and Ethan's nervous energy. He handed me a spoon. "Taste test. Critique away."
I sampled the risotto. Creamy, perfectly salted, annoyingly good. "Damn it, Ethan. It's delicious."
He grinned. "Redemption achieved."
As he plated dinner, we talked about everything except the things that mattered.
The hospital bills waiting on my desk, the anonymous warning from work, the way Zane Cross's name lingered like a shadow.
For a couple of hours, I let the world shrink in pale comparison, to a small apartment with a man who once felt and still felt like he could be part of my future.
After dessert, (store-bought tiramisu, which he owned with pride), we drank more wine and a lazy playlist of songs from our early twenties.
At some point, the distance between us disappeared. Ethan brushed a crumb from my lip, his touch lingering.
"You know," he said, "this feels… easy. Like slipping on an old favorite sweater."
"It does." I kept my voice light. "Comfortable sweaters can be dangerous."
He laughed, but the sound faded fast. "I'm not looking for danger anymore, Maya. I'm looking for… us, together in a committed relationship."
The words sat between us, heavy and tempting. He really didn't ambiguities.
He reached for my hand, tracing lazy circles on my palm. "Can I ask you something without you making a joke?"
"Depends on the question."
His thumb stilled. "Are you seeing anyone else? Talking to anyone?"
The question landed like a stone in water, small, quiet, but the ripples reached deep.
"I…" I started, but he held up a hand.
"Forget it, if it's too soon," he said quickly, though his jaw tightened just a fraction. "I just… I don't want to lose you again."
"It's ok." I responded. "I'm not seeing anyone at the moment." quietly assuring him.
"Good, I missed us,so much."
I would have deflected and made a joke, if i hadnt been warned. Instead, I whispered, "Me too."
His eyes searched mine, and then his lips found mine. Soft, familiar, devastating. The kiss deepened, slow at first, then hungry.
The world outside blurred. The city could have burned, and I wouldn't have noticed. His hands framed my face, then slid to my waist, pulling me closer.
I pressed into him, every nerve alive, the years between us dissolving.
We toppled backward onto the couch, laughter bubbling between kisses.
His fingers traced the curve of my back, and heat coiled low in my stomach. We were seconds away from losing ourselves completely, when my phone vibrated angrily on the coffee table.
I pause, cursing the damn phone. He groaned softly against my neck.
"Ignore it, i think it's high time you started turning off that phone whenever we were together." he whispered, lips brushing my ear.
Too late as the phone was already in my hand.
"It's my mom," I said, panic slicing through the haze. "She never calls this late unless…"
I scrambled for the answer button in my confusion, heart pounding.
"Mamá?"
"Maya?" Her voice was thin and relaxed. "Your father, he's been missing you. He wants to see you tomorrow."
I stood so fast the wine glass tipped. The room tilted with me. Guilt slammed into my chest. One minute I was melting into Ethan, forgetting the world.
The next, reality was clawing its way back, sharp and cold.
"I'll be right there," I said, already grabbing my coat.
Ethan reached for me, concern flashing in his eyes. "Maya…" But my pulse was a drumbeat of fear, drowning everything else.
My dad needed and missed me, and I'd been here,laughing, kissing, almost forgetting the weight on my family's shoulders.
The guilt burned hotter than the kiss, and I wasn't sure which hurt more.
I smiled anyway, but somewhere deep inside my subconscious, a warning bell rang. Love wasn't supposed to feel like a gentle ultimatum, was it?
For a heartbeat, the apartment felt too small.
The candles flickered. The city hummed. And somewhere under the sweetness of garlic and wine, something sharper stirred, something whispered a truth i didnt want to hear.