BED PEACE

Maya's Bed

Maya's apartment felt eerily quiet as the morning sun poured through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the floor. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the pile of clothes she had hastily thrown off the night before. 

As she slipped into her routine, the familiar motions felt heavy with the weight of last night's intimacy. She brushed her hair and stared into the mirror, searching for the woman she once was—the one who laughed easily and believed in Sebastian without hesitation. The woman who had felt safe and cherished in Sebastian's arms.

 A memory flickered to life—a late-night study session in her college dorm. Books were sprawled across her desk, notes scattered like leaves in the wind. Maya had been pouring over her psychology textbooks, the pressure of finals weighing heavily on her. Just as she settled into a rhythm, Sebastian had slipped through the door with that signature grin, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Need a break?" he had asked, leaning against the doorframe, his presence a welcome distraction.

Before she could respond, he crossed the room, his lips finding hers in a teasing kiss that sent her heart racing. "Just a quick one," he murmured, pulling away only to dive in for another, more lingering kiss that left her breathless.

"Sebastian! I need to study!" she protested, though her smile betrayed her.

"Studying is overrated. Come on, just a few minutes?" he'd coaxed, planting soft kisses along her jawline, igniting a warmth that wrapped around her like a favorite sweater.

The memory was vivid—her laughter blending with his as he attempted to draw her attention away from her books. They had spent more time tangled in each other's arms than immersed in textbooks that night, the world outside fading away.

"Get it together, Maya," she whispered to herself. She couldn't dwell on the past—not now.

Maya stood in her Manhattan apartment, the faint hum of the city outside a stark contrast to the calm she sought within. At 28, her life appeared polished—an accomplished forensic psychologist, a small but cozy space filled with art and books—but beneath the surface, shadows loomed large.

 The morning sun filtered through the blinds, illuminating a framed photo of her mother, a woman of resilience who had endured a lifetime of pain. As she brewed her coffee, Maya couldn't shake the memories of her childhood in Queens, where love had always come with conditions and trust was a fragile thing, shattered long before Sebastian ever walked into her life.

As Maya brewed her coffee, her mind wandered back to her childhood. She found it hard to escape her mother's choices, especially when it came to men. Her father had been her hero—an imposing figure who could do no wrong in her eyes. That was, until she was old enough to recognize the bruises her mother tried to hide, the desperate pleas that creeped through the walls like an uninvited guest. How could the man she idolized also be a monster?

At 17, when she heard the news of his accident, an unexpected sense of relief washed over her. Sitting in the hospital, waiting for updates with her mother, Maya felt a strange mix of confusion and freedom. As the doctor emerged, bloodied and solemn, she wondered why her mother's anguished cry pierced the air. Was it grief for a man who had brought her so much pain? Maya had never felt the sadness others expected; instead, she grappled with a flicker of guilt for not feeling anything at all.

At work, the bustle of her colleagues and the click of keyboards provided a welcome distraction. Maya entered her office, where the scent of old books and fresh papers enveloped her. She immersed herself in a case, dissecting the mind of a troubled client while trying to ignore the chaos in her own heart.