1.0 #2
For a beat, neither of us spoke. Just the hum of the shop outside the door, muffled by the weight of everything unspoken between us.
Kian pushed up from the chair, sliding the drawer shut with his hip. The money disappeared, but the weight of it stayed in the room. He stepped over until he was standing right in front of me, the heat of him closing the space.
His palms braced the desk on either side of me before one slid up, fingers brushing lightly against the back of my neck. His touch wasn't heavy-just enough to send a shiver skating down my spine.
"What's up with you?" he murmured, thumb tracing lazy circles. "Talk to me. How's the shop been?"
I swallowed, tilting my chin up. "It was a good day."
"That's what I like to hear." His voice dipped lower, the corner of his mouth curling.
Before I could answer, he leaned in, lips brushing mine once, twice, before pulling me into a kiss that was unhurried but firm, the kind that made it clear he was used to getting what he wanted.
I let him, because that was what this was. Simple. Easy. Heat pressed into quiet corners.
But in the back of my mind, the words formed sharp anyway: I'm twenty-seven now.
I'm not that girl anymore-the one who spent her early twenties running after men like they were the prize.
I wasted enough nights being silly, confusing attention with affection.
I've got other priorities now. Alina. My work. Myself.
Kian wanted more. I saw it in the way he held me, in the way his hand lingered on the back of my neck like he was claiming something. But I didn't have "more" to give. Not to him. Not to anybody.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his smile crooked. "What you doing this weekend?"
I raised a brow, lips still curved, because I knew where this was going. "Why?"
"'Cause I'm tryna take you out."
The laugh that slipped out of me was soft, teasing. "If 'take me out' is code for you wanna come over and fuck me, then yeah, I'll be free." I leaned in closer, voice dropping. "But if you're talking about a date..." I let the pause stretch, lips brushing his. "...then you already know the answer."
His eyes narrowed, amused, that familiar mix of irritation and attraction. "You a trip, you know that?"
I smirked, sliding off the desk, brushing past him like I wasn't still buzzing from his touch. "Yeah. But you like it."
And the truth was-I liked it too.
Through the glass doors, I spotted Alina instantly-pink sneakers kicking under a tiny table, braids fuzzy from a long day of play. She was coloring, tongue poked out in concentration, completely ignoring the chaos of kids still running laps around her.
The second she noticed me, her whole face lit. She dropped the crayon mid-scribble and barreled into me as soon as the teacher unlatched the gate.
"Mommy!"
I scooped her up, inhaling that warm mix of baby lotion and juice boxes. "Hey, bug. You have fun today?"
She nodded hard enough to make her beads click. "We played outside. And I was the line leader. Ms. Dorsey said I was the best line leader ever."
"Best line leader ever?" I kissed her cheek. "I believe it."
She beamed, soaking up the praise like sunshine. In the car, she hummed to herself the whole ride home, legs swinging in the booster seat, words tumbling out in bursts. A story about a butterfly she chased. Something about sharing markers. I only caught half of it, but I nodded like it was gospel.
At home, she ran straight for her toy bin while I kicked off my sneakers and headed for the kitchen. The fridge was stocked, but I I settled on chicken and rice, simple enough to throw together while keeping one ear tuned to Alina singing off-key from the living room.
She wandered in a few minutes later, dragging her stuffed rabbit by the ear. "Mommy, I'm hungry now."
"Good thing I started already." I set her on the counter, where she immediately reached for the seasoning bottles. "Nope. Don't touch."
She giggled, snatching her hand back dramatically. "Okay, okay."
I pretended to be stern, then tickled her side until she squealed. "You think you run this kitchen?"
"I do!" she said, dead serious.
"Mhmm." I stirred the pot, hiding my smile.
Dinner was nothing fancy, but Alina ate like it was the best meal of her life, swinging her legs under the table, rice stuck to her cheeks. Watching her chew with exaggerated effort, I felt that same twist in my chest I always did-love so sharp it almost hurt.
Afterward, I let her pick a book for bedtime. She chose the same one as last night, and the night before that-something with a purple unicorn that went on adventures. By the third page, she was snuggled against my arm, eyelids drooping.
"You're falling asleep on me," I whispered.
She shook her head stubbornly. "Not yet."
Two pages later, she was out.
I lingered for a while, brushing stray curls from her forehead, tracing the line of her tiny hand curled around the blanket. It never failed to hit me-the weight of it. How she was mine, fully mine, and how different my life looked with her in it.
By the time I slipped out and pulled the door to, the house had gone still.
In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of wine and leaned against the counter, scrolling absently through my phone. Rina had tagged me in a funny video from the shop. A couple of clients had DM'd asking for last-minute slots. Buried between it all, was a text from Kian.
I stared at it a second longer than I should've, thumb hovering. My first instinct was to leave him on read. He wasn't my man, and I didn't owe him a response. But the truth was, I liked the attention. I liked the pull-and-push of knowing he wanted more and I didn't.
I set the phone down without answering, pushing away from the counter to load the dishwasher. The clank of plates echoed too loud in the quiet.
Sometimes, late at night, I missed things I didn't let myself name. A partner. A body next to mine that wasn't just about release. Someone who made the silence less heavy.
But then I'd look at Alina, and the ache settled. My twenties had been chaos-dancing, clubs, heartbreaks I swore I'd never crawl out of. Now, at twenty-seven, I wasn't chasing that anymore.
I rinsed the last plate and wiped down the counter, wine half-finished. Upstairs, the house creaked like it was settling into itself. I followed it, the weight of the day pressing down all at once.
In my room, I stretched out across the bed, phone screen lighting up again with another buzz.
This time, Kian's name.
Kian
Let me come thru.
I smirked faintly, shaking my head. He never gave up.
But tonight, my answer was the same as before. I locked the screen, slid the phone onto the nightstand, and pulled the covers over my head.
For once, I let myself enjoy the quiet.
I must've dozed off quick, because the next thing I knew, tiny footsteps padded down the hallway.
"Mommy?"
Her voice was small, wavering. I blinked at the clock on my nightstand-1:42 a.m.
I sat up. "What's wrong, bug?"
Alina stood in the doorway clutching her rabbit by the ear, eyes watery. "I had a bad dream."
My chest softened instantly. I lifted the covers, and she climbed in without hesitation, burrowing into me until her little knees pressed my ribs.
"You're okay," I whispered, smoothing her curls. "Just a dream."
She nodded against me, her breath warm on my shoulder. Within minutes, she was out again, her thumb in her mouth, her bunny squished between us like he'd been through the same nightmare.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled faintly of strawberry lotion and detergent, the air thick with that kind of silence you could only get in the middle of the night.
This was the part I never said out loud. The part where the house felt both too small and too big at once. Small because every sound echoed, big because sometimes it felt like there should've been someone else here.