The long way to us

Chapter 3

Echoes of the Past

Leah sat by the window of her Manhattan apartment, a cup of chamomile tea cradled between her palms as she stared out at the cityscape blurred by the rain. The rhythmic patter against the glass was a welcome distraction from the storm brewing inside her. It had been two months since the encounter with Elijah at that upscale restaurant, a night that felt like a century ago and yet, so close she could almost feel the echo of it in her veins.

The memory of Elijah's desperate eyes haunted her. He had cornered her in the dimly lit hallway of the restaurant, his voice low and broken, asking for just a moment. His desperation, his raw plea for her to understand—it all seemed to scream against the stillness of her apartment. She had tried to hold back the painful ache that had spread through her chest. *Why now?* she thought, her fingers clenching tighter around the mug. *Why, after everything, when I finally found peace?*

The wind howled outside, tugging at the curtains, and Leah's mind drifted back to their first meeting, a memory so vivid it felt like she could step into it. The sun was just beginning to dip behind the New York skyline, casting golds and oranges across the sky. The stage was buzzing with energy as her band, RBD, prepared for the night's show. She had just finished her soundcheck, her voice still tinged with the adrenaline of singing, when Elijah had walked in.

He was unlike anyone she had ever seen: with dark, almost black hair that fell messily over his forehead, eyes so deep they seemed to pull her in. There was a smirk on his lips, and a confidence that didn't quite match the vulnerability Leah would later discover in him. He extended a hand, introducing himself with a casual charm. *"You're Leah Waldof, right? The singer from RBD?"*

*"The one and only,"* Leah replied, her voice stronger than she felt. Inside, her heart raced like a drumbeat. He chuckled, and for a moment, the noise of the arena faded, leaving only the sound of his laughter in the space between them.

Their first conversation had been brief but layered with an unspoken understanding. She had felt a strange, magnetic pull toward him, but she'd buried it under the whirlwind of tours and late-night rehearsals. It wasn't until weeks later, after a tour bus breakdown and a shared night under a star-filled sky, that the wall she built around herself began to crumble. They had talked for hours, swapping stories of childhood, dreams, and heartaches, feeling like the only two people who truly understood what it meant to carry the weight of fame while yearning for something real.

But soon, the cracks started showing. The rest of the band noticed the late-night calls, the looks exchanged during interviews. Elijah had an edge to him that Leah found both thrilling and alarming. Their relationship deepened as they found solace in each other's broken pieces, sharing quiet moments and stolen kisses behind stage curtains.

Leah remembered one night in particular, when they had stayed up until sunrise in his dimly lit apartment. They were sitting on the floor, surrounded by records and an open bottle of whiskey that neither had touched. The room was filled with the raw, almost mournful chords of a song by one of Elijah's favorite bands, The National. He had looked at her with a mixture of love and regret, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

*"Why haven't you written me a song?"* Leah had asked, half-joking. It was a question that had been simmering on her tongue for weeks, but she was afraid of the answer.

Elijah sighed, looking away as if the question had physically struck him. *"I don't write about things that make me happy. For me to write, I'd have to lose you first."*

The sting of those words had echoed in Leah's mind long after that night. It was a warning she ignored, one she only understood fully after the hurt had come to pass.

Her eyes shifted to the small, worn-out photo on her shelf: a candid picture of her, Milo, and the rest of the crew from the "Divine Rivals" set, a moment before the world fell apart. The day she first felt a hint of hope after the turmoil with Elijah. She had met Milo in a whirlwind of costume fittings, long rehearsal days, and candid, easy conversations that stretched into late nights. They had a bond that transcended friendship, one that had formed from hours of reading their characters' letters to each other, practicing with the vintage typewriter and getting lost in their story.

Milo had been a constant in her life, long before the storm that had been Elijah swept her away. He was there in the quiet moments between takes, bringing her coffee and joking about their characters' most ridiculous scenes. Leah had never felt safer or more understood than when Milo was near. He had a way of looking at her as if he could see straight into her soul, understanding her fears, her hopes, the fragile parts of her she kept hidden even from herself.

The first time Leah had realized how deep her feelings for Milo went was when he had been there for her after the devastating fallout with Elijah. She was sitting in the dressing room, tears streaming down her face as she stared at her reflection, unable to recognize the person staring back at her. Milo had found her there, silent but steadfast, and he had wrapped her in his arms, a promise unspoken but clear in the press of his embrace.

As the days stretched into weeks, Milo's presence became her anchor, a lifeline that pulled her back from the brink. He never pressured her to move on; instead, he let her lean on him in the ways she needed most. And it was in the soft, quiet moments, the ones when neither of them spoke, that Leah felt the shift from mere comfort to something deeper.

She let out a sigh, her thoughts drifting to the way he had looked at her the night they'd watched the stars together from his rooftop. He had told her that night, *"Leah, I don't know what the future holds, but I know I'm not going anywhere."*

The doorbell chimed, startling Leah out of her reverie. She glanced at her phone to see Milo's name lighting up the screen. She let out a small sigh of relief and picked it up.

"Hey, Leah," Milo's voice was warm, the kind that always managed to pull her out of her darkest thoughts. "How's your day going?"

Leah smiled despite herself. She traced her fingers along the rim of her tea mug, listening to the rain's comforting beat against the glass. "It's... been a day. You know how it is."

A silence hung between them, but it was a comfortable one. Milo knew her better than anyone. He knew that some days she was just surviving, and on those days, she needed him in the simplest ways.

"I'm on my way over," he said. "We can make tea, play some music, or just sit in silence if that's what you need. You don't have to say anything."

Leah's heart swelled at the thought. His constant kindness was something she never took for granted. "That sounds perfect," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

When he arrived an hour later, the rain had eased, but the chill was still there. Milo entered with a warm smile and a bag of her favorite chocolate, his eyes lighting up as he saw her sitting by the window. He set the chocolate on the table and sat beside her, the silence speaking louder than words.

They spent the evening sharing stories, laughter, and quiet moments that made Leah forget the ache in her heart. It was a peace she hadn't felt in a long time. Milo's presence filled the room, pushing back the shadows that still whispered of Elijah and the life she had left behind.

But even as Leah allowed herself to be enveloped by the calm, there was a part of her that couldn't help but wonder: Would Elijah ever accept that she had moved on? And would she ever be able to let go of the man who had once claimed her heart?

As the evening deepened, Milo took her hand, his thumb brushing the back of her knuckles. "Leah," he said, his voice low but sure, "I know what this is like for you. The past. The hurt. But I want you to know that I'm here, no matter what. I'll be here, fighting for you. Every day."

Tears welled up in her eyes. No one had ever said that to her before. Not even Elijah, who had loved her with the intensity of a storm but had never been able to make her feel this safe. This seen.

And as the rain pattered against the window, Leah finally let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, the past could stay in the past. That her future was waiting for her, right here, with the one man who had always loved her, even before she knew it.

The echoes of the past might remain, but in this moment, they were just echoes, fading beneath the gentle sound of rain and the warmth of Milo's hand in hers.