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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 had definitely shifted something between them. it wasn't just a moment of heat or impulsiveness, it was tender, charged with emotions she hadn't been prepared to confront.
after it happened, she'd pulled away, her breath catching somewhere between fear and guilt.
"i'm not ready," she had whispered, barely able to meet césar's eyes.
and he, to his credit, had stepped back immediately.
"then i'll wait," he'd said softly, not pushing, not demanding, just stating it, as if it were the simplest truth. "i'm not going anywhere, luna."
and maybe that should've made things easier. it didn't.
it made everything messier.
because now she was standing on a ledge, emotionally split between a future she didn't expect and a past that refused to let her go.
jordan.
he haunted her in the quiet. in the silence that followed césar's kiss. in the way her hand still trembled when she thought of benny, of loss, of motherhood, of what it meant to open her heart again.
she sat on the edge of her hotel bed, legs tucked underneath her, staring out at the faint silhouette of the coastline beyond her window. her thoughts spun, césar's soft eyes, his words, his patience.
and then there was a buzz.
her phone lit up beside her on the nightstand. she blinked, slowly reaching for it.
jordan ❤️ was calling.
her stomach dropped.
a shaky breath left her lips as she sat up straighter, heart thudding in her chest like it had a mind of its own. she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering.
he was calling.
after all this time, all the silence. after the message she sent, the one he saw but never replied to. after the kiss with someone else.
she hesitated. for a moment, she thought maybe she should let it ring out, let it go to voicemail, let the weight of everything crush the sound away.
but her fingers moved before her doubt could stop her.
she answered.
"alo?"
her voice was small. unsure. it surprised her.
there was a breath on the other end. and then:
"luna?"
and just like that, the world shifted again.
her voice was barely above a whisper, but it still trembled with that delicate sting of disappointment, the kind that came from hope, not hatred.
"i didn't want to bother you ... i figured you were busy," she murmured, eyes fixed on the floor, "too busy to answer."
