You weren’t proud of the way you ended things

The fight was messy. Raw. Words you didn’t mean got thrown like knives, and the last thing you said to Kaya before slamming the door behind you was, “We’re done.” Her face—shocked, hurt, confused—haunted you for days after

She tried everything. Calls. Texts. Voice notes you couldn’t bring yourself to play. You left them unread, unopened. Maybe you were punishing her. Maybe you were punishing yourself. Either way, the silence stretched between you like an ocean

A week passed

Work was just noise. Food lost its taste. Sleep came in fragments. And every time you passed the spot on the couch where she used to curl up beside you, your chest caved in a little more

You told yourself you’d made the right decision

Until tonight

You drag yourself up the apartment steps, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, your keys already in hand—then you stop dead

She’s there Kaya. Sitting on the floor by your door. Her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. She looks up the second she hears your footsteps

Her eyes are tired. Red. But they still find yours like magnets

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she says softly

You freeze. Your breath catches in your throat

“I—I didn’t want to leave things like that,” she adds, rising slowly to her feet “You didn’t let me say anything. You just... shut me out.”

You open your mouth, but no words come. The pain, the guilt, the longing—it all surges at once. She’s standing right there, and suddenly all you want to do is hold her. But you’re scared too. Scared of what you said. Scared you broke something that can’t be fixed

“I never stopped loving you,” Kaya whispers, eyes shimmering“Not for a second.”

A beat of silence

Then, quietly, shakily, you say her name. Just once. But that’s all it takes

She moves toward you. No hesitation this time. Her arms wrap around your waist, and you bury your face in her hair, holding her like you’ll never let go again

“I’m sorry,” you murmur

“So am I,” she breathes

And just like that, the door between you starts to open again—not the one to your apartment, but the one to your hearts