Where the roses bloom

Chapter 3-A

Maya's Point of View

Before anyone could respond, I grabbed my bag and pushed back from the table, making a beeline for the door. The café felt smaller all of a sudden, like it was closing in on me. The chatter from the others faded as I stormed out, my boots echoing down the stairs as I hurried back to my apartment above the café.

"Maya, wait!" I heard Uncle Kenny call behind me, his voice laced with concern, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. I wasn't going to sit there and let them treat me like I was some little girl who needed babysitting. Not when I'd been handling things just fine on my own.

By the time I reached my apartment door, I was breathing hard, my chest tight with frustration. Fumbling with my keys, I finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind me with a sharp bang that echoed in the quiet hallway.

"Maya!" Uncle Kenny's voice was closer now, and a few seconds later, I heard the knock. "Maya, can I come in?"

I didn't answer at first, standing in the middle of my tiny apartment, staring at nothing. Part of me wanted to yell, to tell him to leave me alone. But another part, the one that always trusted Uncle Kenny, hesitated.

He knocked again, more gently this time. "Maya, please. Just open the door. Let's talk."

I sighed, my anger still simmering, but I walked over and opened the door just enough to see his face, concern etched deep into his features.

"What?" I snapped, though the bite in my voice was softer than before.

He didn't say anything at first, just gave me a sad look before stepping inside, closing the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, looking around my small, cluttered space, then back at me.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you feel like we were ganging up on you."

I crossed my arms, not trusting myself to speak without saying something I'd regret.

He took a step closer, his voice softening even more. "I know you're not a kid, Maya. You're strong, independent. Hell, you've been doing just fine on your own for a while now. I see that, and I'm proud of you."

His words made the knot in my chest loosen just a little, but I kept my arms crossed, biting my lip.

"It's just..." He ran a hand through his graying hair, sighing. "I promised your dad I'd look out for you. And with me leaving, I can't shake the worry. This neighborhood's not the safest, and if something happened while I was gone... I'd never forgive myself."

I looked away, my frustration battling with the guilt creeping in. I knew he wasn't trying to baby me. I knew it came from a place of love, of care. But still... it felt suffocating.

"I don't need a babysitter," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you don't," Uncle Kenny said gently. "But it's not about babysitting. It's about peace of mind. For me, for your parents... and for you."

I blinked, surprised by the way he phrased it. "For me?"

He nodded. "You've been through a lot, kid. More than most your age. And I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn't have to do everything alone. We just want to make sure you're safe, that you have a support system while I'm away."

I looked down at the floor, feeling the tension slowly drain out of me. He was right. It wasn't about them thinking I couldn't handle it. It was about them caring, about trying to protect me in their own way.

Uncle Kenny placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch light but comforting. "We'll figure this out, okay? You don't have to make any decisions right now. But promise me you'll at least consider it. Staying with Jenny or Sara, just until I'm back. It's only temporary."

I sighed, my arms uncrossing as I finally met his eyes. "Fine. I'll... think about it."

He gave me a small, relieved smile. "That's all I'm asking."

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us easing into something softer, more familiar. Uncle Kenny glanced around my apartment again, then back at me.

"You sure you're, okay?"

I nodded, though my throat felt a little tight. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He squeezed my shoulder gently before letting go. "Alright. Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

I watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. As much as I hated being treated like a kid, there was a part of me that was grateful—for the care, for the concern. Even if it did feel a little overbearing at times.

Before he stepped out the door, I called after him. "Uncle Kenny?"

He paused, looking back at me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling awkward but meaning it.

He smiled, that warm, familiar smile that always made me feel like everything would be okay. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime."

And with that, he left, leaving me standing in the quiet of my apartment, feeling a little less angry... and a little more understood.

After Uncle Kenny left, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at my phone. My mind was swirling, heavy with everything that had happened tonight. Part of me wanted to just shut it all out, but another part—the part that knew me better—was screaming for someone to talk to.

I picked up my phone, thumbing through the contacts, and hovered over Sara's name. Even though I didn't want to rehash the night, I knew she'd understand without me having to say much.

I dialed Sara's number, not entirely sure what I was going to say, but after a few rings, her familiar voice picked up.

"Maya? What's up?" she asked, her voice instantly alert, like she knew something was wrong.

"Hey," I started, trying to sound casual. "I don't know... I'm just not feeling great tonight."

She was quiet for a second, but I could practically hear her gears turning on the other side of the line. "You're at home, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in ten."

"Sara, really, it's fine. I'm—"

"Don't even try that with me," she cut me off, her tone warm but firm. "I'm coming over, and I'm bringing ice cream, cookies, and chocolate. We'll talk when I get there, okay?"

I couldn't help but smile a little, despite the weight in my chest. "Alright, see you soon."

After we hung up, I sat there for a moment, feeling a small bit of relief. It wasn't about solving anything right then; it was just knowing someone was coming, someone who didn't need an explanation to show up.

True to her word, ten minutes later, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find Sara standing there, dressed in her soft pajama pants, slippers, and a giant hoodie, arms loaded with ice cream tubs, a bag of cookies, and a bar of chocolate tucked under her chin.

"Emergency comfort supplies," she announced with a grin, holding everything out like she'd just robbed a dessert shop.

"You didn't have to," I said, but there was no denying the gratitude in my voice.

She just shrugged, brushing past me into the apartment. "Yeah, well, tough. You don't get to feel like crap on my watch."

Sara set everything down on the coffee table, then plopped onto my couch, already ripping into the cookies. "Come on, grab a spoon. We're starting with the ice cream."

I sat down beside her, and for a moment, we didn't talk about anything serious. We just ate ice cream and flipped through some dumb reality show on TV, the kind where people argue over nothing. It was simple, comforting, and exactly what I needed.

And even though we hadn't addressed the mess of tonight yet, having her there was enough for now.