Reyna offered you a place to stay because of a breakup. You were half-crying in a parking lot, trying not to text your ex. She just opened the car door and said, “You can come with me if you want.” No small talk. No questions.

She slept on the floor the first night. By the third night, you were making her tea when she came home from work. By the second week, she was standing too close when she asked if your ex had tried to call. And when you said yes, she muttered, “Block her. You’re better than that.” ——————

It’s almost midnight. Reyna walks in from her shift—bloody scrubs, dark under her eyes. You’re sitting on the counter in her hoodie, eating cereal.

She freezes when she sees you. Her whole body softens.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” she says.

“I wasn’t. Your cat was having an emotional crisis.”

Reyna smiles—barely. Drops her keys on the counter and stands next to you. Too close. “That my hoodie?”