When I Met You in the Summer

12

One night, while her parents were out on a date, Miranda found herself home alone. The quiet of the house enveloped her as she wandered through the familiar rooms, she settled into her favorite spot by the window with a book in hand, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light.

Miranda's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected knock on her door. It was late, and she wasn't expecting anyone. She approached the door cautiously, her mind racing with apprehension. Peering through the peephole, she saw a figure standing on her doorstep, their features obscured by the darkness outside.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Miranda unlocked the door and opened it hesitantly. Standing before her was Ben, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He looked at her with earnest eyes, holding something small in his hand.

"Ben?" Miranda's voice trembled slightly, surprised and unsure of what to make of his sudden reappearance.

"Mandy," Ben started softly, his gaze steady on hers. "I... I know this is unexpected. Can I come in?"

Miranda took a step back, a mix of emotions washing over her—surprise, curiosity, and a flicker of apprehension. She hadn't expected to see Ben again, especially not here, not now. She thought they were finished.

"I... I don't know if now is a good time," Miranda started slowly, her mind racing with questions and uncertainties.

Ben nodded, understanding the hesitation in her voice. "I get it," he replied quietly. "But please, just hear me out. Can we talk?"

Miranda hesitated, her thoughts swirling as she weighed her options. She meant what she said last time but before she knew it she was stepping aside to let him in.

Ben entered cautiously, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings of Miranda's home. He held out the small object in his hand—a single white rose, its petals delicate and pristine.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Ben began softly, his eyes searching Miranda's face for any sign of forgiveness or understanding.

Miranda sighed, her gaze meeting his. "What are you doing here, Ben?" she asked quietly, unable to mask the mix of emotions in her voice.

Ben took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about us," he admitted, his voice earnest. "I know you said we should just part ways. But I disagree."

Miranda nodded slowly, her heart fluttering with a mixture of vulnerability and strength. "Ben," she started softly, "it's been hard... after everything."

Ben reached out to hand her the rose. "I know," he replied gently. "And I'm sorry. I should have handled things better."

Their eyes locked, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them—regret, longing, and the faint glimmer of what might have been. Miranda felt a surge of conflicting feelings, torn between the past they shared and the uncertainty of their future. She took the flower from him. Their fingers brushing against each other.

"Mandy," Ben whispered, his voice filled with sincerity, "I still care about you. I never stopped."

Miranda swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words."I cared about you too. But..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Ben stepped closer, closing the gap between them. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch warm against her skin. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness.

Miranda's mind raced as she kissed him back, and as they pulled apart, she searched his eyes for answers.
"Wait," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "what are we doing?"