UNRAVELING AMAYA.

9

I woke to the gentle hum of the city outside my window, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The bed felt unusually warm, a stark reminder of Ryan's presence the night before. I turned over, half expecting to see him beside me, but the spot was empty, only a faint impression on the pillow marking where he had been.

I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the events of the previous night. The raw honesty in Ryan's eyes, the way his words had pierced through my defenses—it all felt surreal. I could still feel the warmth of his embrace, the lingering taste of his kiss.

With a sigh, I forced myself out of bed, the cool floor beneath my feet grounding me in the reality of the new day. As I padded to the kitchen, the faint aroma of coffee reached me. I paused, a smile tugging at my lips.

He's still here.

I found him at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into two mugs. He looked up as I entered, a small smile playing on his lips. "Morning," he said, his voice soft and warm.

"Morning," I replied, my heart fluttering at the sight of him. "You're still here."

"Of course," he said, handing me a mug. "I wasn't 'bout to leave without saying goodbye."

I took the mug, savoring the warmth that seeped into my hands. "Thank you. For last night, I mean."

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "I meant every word, Amaya. I'm not here to play games."

I looked down at my mug, the steam rising in delicate swirls. "I know. And I appreciate your honesty. It's just... a lot to take in."

Ryan reached across the counter, his hand covering mine. "We can take things slow. One step at a time."

I nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I'd like that."

We spent the morning together, talking and sharing stories over coffee. It felt natural, easy, like slipping into a favorite old sweater. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of peace.

But as the day wore on, reality began to creep back in. I had work to do, errands to run, and responsibilities to attend to. And Ryan had his own life, his own obligations. As much as I wanted to stay in this bubble, I knew we couldn't avoid the real world forever.

"I should get going," Ryan said finally, his tone regretful. "I got a shoot this afternoon."

I nodded, trying to mask my disappointment. "Of course. I have some things to take care of too."

He stood and pulled me into a hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," I said, my voice muffled against his chest. "I'd like that."

With one last lingering kiss, he left, the apartment feeling emptier in his absence. I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the closed door, before turning back to face the day.

I spent the rest of the morning tidying up the apartment, trying to keep my mind occupied. But thoughts of Ryan kept creeping in, distracting me from the task at hand. I could still feel the ghost of his touch, hear the echo of his words.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of errands and tasks. I went grocery shopping, did laundry, and cleaned the apartment. But no matter how busy I tried to keep myself, thoughts of Ryan kept intruding.

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I decided to treat myself to a quiet night in, curling up on the couch with a glass of wine and reruns of Martin. Just as I got comfortable, my phone buzzed with a text.

Ryan:

Hey. How's your day going?

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me.

Busy, but good. Just winding down now. How about you?

Ryan:
Same. Long day, but thinkin bout you helped me get through it.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, my heart skipping a beat.

Same here. It was nice having you over this morning.

Ryan:
I'm glad. I was thinking... maybe we could do it again sometime? No pressure, just coffee and good company.

I'd like that. A lot.

Ryan:
Cool. How bout tomorrow morning?

Sounds perfect.

I set my phone down, a smile lingering on my lips. The thought of seeing Ryan again so soon filled me with a sense of anticipation. Maybe things were starting to fall into place, after all.

The next morning, I woke early, a sense of excitement bubbling within me. I took extra care getting ready, choosing a soft, comfortable two piece set and spending a little more time on my hair and makeup. As I looked in the mirror, I felt a flicker of confidence.

Ryan arrived just as I was finishing up, his familiar knock sending my heart racing. I opened the door to find him standing there, a warm smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"Morning," I replied, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "Come in."

We settled in the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee filling the air. As we talked and laughed over breakfast, I felt a sense of ease that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if the walls I had built around myself were slowly crumbling, brick by brick.

But just as we were finishing our second cups of coffee, my phone buzzed with a call. I glanced at the screen and saw my mother's name. My heart skipped a beat.

"I should take this," I said, excusing myself to the living room. "Hi, Mom?"

"Hi, Amaya," she said, her voice warm but tentative. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. "Just having breakfast. You?"

"I'm okay. I just wanted to hear your voice again."

"I know," I said, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry about that. I've been... busy."

"It's okay," she said softly. "I understand. But I miss you, Amaya. I miss our talks."

"I miss you too," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we could catch up this weekend? Have a real conversation?"

"I'd like that," she said, a note of hope in her voice. "Saturday afternoon?"

"Sounds good. I'll call you then."

"Okay. I love you, Amaya."

"I...I love you too, Mom."

I hung up, my heart feeling a little lighter. It was a small step, but it felt significant. Maybe this was the beginning of healing, of bridging the distance that had grown between us.

I returned to the kitchen, where Ryan was waiting, a concerned look on his face. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling. "That was my mom. We're going to catch up this weekend."

"That's good," he said, his smile genuine. "I'm glad to hear it."

We spent the rest of the morning together, talking and laughing like old friends. By the time he left, I felt a sense of hope that I hadn't felt in a long time.

As the week went on, I found myself thinking about Ryan more and more. We texted every day, sharing little moments and thoughts. It felt good to have someone to share my life with, even in small ways.

Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it, a sense of nervous anticipation. I spent the morning cleaning the apartment and trying to keep my mind occupied, but as the time for my call with my mother approached, I felt my nerves getting the best of me.