Chapter 15 — Sparks in the Storm
The café felt smaller now, the shadows longer, the rain outside pounding harder against the windows. Mara's heart raced, her chest tightening with a mixture of fear, anger, and something else — something she refused to name.
Milo stood beside her, silent but immovable. The stranger from her past didn't move either, but there was no denying the shift in the air. It was electric, charged, like the storm outside had leaked into the room.
"Why are you here?" Mara demanded, voice low but firm. "I've moved on. I don't owe you anything."
The man smiled, sharp and predatory. "Moved on? You think a past like yours ever leaves quietly? You left before, but some things follow, Mara. Some debts aren't yours to cancel."
Milo's hand found hers, gripping lightly but with purpose. Mara felt warmth bloom in the panic that tightened her chest. She wasn't ready to admit it, but the simple contact gave her courage.
"I don't care about debts," Milo said, voice steady, calm, and full of something Mara hadn't expected. "I care about her. And I won't let anyone—" His gaze met hers, a spark, a tether, a silent promise. "…hurt her."
The stranger blinked, unaccustomed to being challenged. "You? A boy? What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm the person she chooses," Milo said quietly, deliberately. "And I choose her too."
Something in Mara's chest shifted. She had always protected herself. Always calculated every risk. And yet, seeing Milo — this boy who had somehow become more than a boy in the space of weeks — stand for her with such fierce calm… it ignited something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
"Stop," Mara said suddenly, not at the stranger but at herself. Her hands shook, her heart thundered, and the small tremor she felt in her chest scared her more than the stranger's presence.
Milo noticed immediately. He stepped closer, lowering his voice: "I'm here. No one else matters right now. Just breathe. You're not alone."
She did. She breathed. Slowly. And with each inhale, the storm in her chest began to ease.
Then Milo did something impulsive. Something Mara hadn't expected.
He brushed a strand of damp hair from her face, and for the briefest moment, the room fell away. The rain, the stranger, the tension — all of it — disappeared under the quiet intensity of that gesture. Mara's breath hitched. Her chest warmed, a slow, electric pulse.
"You're safe," Milo whispered, voice low, almost trembling with the weight of his words. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not ever."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She wasn't sure what she felt — relief? longing? desire? fear? All of it tangled together, knotting her stomach with emotion she hadn't expected to feel.
The stranger's eyes narrowed, but he could see it too: the shift, the undeniable connection. Mara had chosen — without speaking, without force — to lean just a little into Milo.
And Milo, fierce and steady, had claimed that space gently, fully, with care and conviction.
Outside, the rain began to ease. Inside, Mara and Milo's hands brushed again — this time intentionally — as the first sparks of something more than trust, more than friendship, more than hope began to ignite.
It was subtle. Dangerous. Irresistible.
And neither of them could deny it.