The long way to us

Chapter 4

Milo's POV

The soft hum of the city outside the window mixed with the faint crackle of the old record player in the corner. It was late, and while the night usually brought with it a sense of solitude and peace, tonight it was different. Tonight, it was a storm of thoughts. The storm was Leah.

Milo leaned against the windowsill, staring out into the chaos of New York, the city that felt so familiar but so foreign at the same time. It was a city that had witnessed their stories—his, hers, and theirs. But now, it was his turn to feel lost, and the reason was simple: Elijah.

He remembered the first time he saw Leah, really saw her, on set. She had been laughing, the kind of laughter that felt like sunshine, pulling everyone around her into its warmth. It had been on the set of *Divine Rivals*, a series that started as an ambitious project but turned into a turning point for both of them. They were both there for the roles, but it was their connection that kept them on the same path.

**Flashback**

Milo sat at his dressing table, the wooden chair creaking slightly as he shifted. He was tired, the kind of tired that seeped deep into your bones after hours of filming. But when Leah entered the room, energy seemed to wrap around her, as if she carried the sunlight wherever she went.

"Hey, sunshine boy," she teased, a smile tugging at her lips as she tossed her curly hair over her shoulder. The nickname had stuck after an early morning when the crew had found him half-asleep, rubbing his eyes, but unable to stop smiling at her.

"Hey," he murmured, pretending to be annoyed, but his smile betrayed him. She always had that effect.

"Are you going to help me practice our scene today or are you going to make that pouty face again?" Leah raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. And there it was, that look—the one that said everything without words, that simple spark that made him feel like she was the only one who could see the real him.

Milo had never been good at hiding how he felt about people. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and Leah had been no exception. But from the very beginning, there was an unspoken understanding between them. It was more than camaraderie; it was a recognition of something deeper that neither of them wanted to name.

They spent hours together, sometimes rehearsing lines and other times just sitting in the corner of the set, their legs stretched out and their shoulders brushing as they listened to music or shared childhood stories. Milo had loved the way she would light up when she talked about her dad, how her eyes would shimmer with fondness and pain, a testament to the deep love she carried for the man she lost too soon. That was the Leah he had come to know, the one he wanted to protect at all costs.

It had started as a friendship, a bond forged in the pressure of the set and the shared experiences of playing characters who fell in love through the written word. But over time, the boundaries of friendship blurred. They wrote letters to each other using the typewriters the director had provided, practicing their characters' emotions and expressions. The letters became more personal, more revealing, but never once did he find the courage to tell her how he really felt. Fear, insecurity, a sense that he could never live up to her strength or the light she carried—these were the things that kept him silent.

**Flashback**

It was a late night, the set almost empty except for the two of them. Leah was perched on the edge of the old set sofa, her fingers drumming the armrest as she stared into the dimly lit room, lost in thought. Milo watched her from the doorway, every part of him wanting to join her, but he couldn't move.

"I know what you're doing," she said, breaking the silence without turning around. Her voice was soft, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

"What am I doing?" he asked, the question coming out almost too casual, a shield for his emotions.

"Waiting," she said, finally meeting his gaze. There was something there, something he couldn't quite name but that made his heart clench. "Waiting for something you'll never say."

He shifted on his feet, looking at the ground, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt. "I'm not good at this, Leah. I'm not good at saying things that matter."

Leah's smile was small, understanding. "You don't have to say anything, Milo. I know."

**Present Day**

The memory still stung, especially now, with everything that had happened with Elijah. He had seen Leah's face when she had left the restaurant that night after Elijah had cornered her. The look in her eyes—a mix of frustration and defeat—had almost broken him. And when she told him about it, that was when the storm in his chest had started to form. Elijah was back, and he was determined to reclaim what he had lost.

Milo ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. It had been weeks since he last spoke to Leah about what he'd seen in that restaurant. That night, his blood had boiled at the thought of Elijah coming back into her life, claiming something that Milo had always silently wanted. But more than that, he knew that Leah deserved peace, not a battle between two men who wanted her in their own ways.

He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out the old journal he kept, the one where he had written about his feelings for Leah in the early days. The pages were worn, filled with words he never dared to say out loud. One entry stood out among the rest:

*"I wish I could tell her. I wish she knew that I'm not just her best friend, that I'm the guy who would move mountains for her, who'd stay even when the world says to leave. But what if she doesn't see me like that? What if I lose her in the process?"*

Milo closed the journal and looked at his phone, at the missed texts from Leah asking if he was okay, if he wanted to talk. But he couldn't bring himself to respond, not when he knew Elijah was still out there, still fighting for the one thing Milo had always wanted but never claimed.

He took a deep breath, pushing the fear aside. There was no more time for hesitation. If Elijah was willing to fight, then so would he. Because Leah deserved more than the ghosts of their pasts. She deserved someone who would be brave enough to tell her what she meant.

And even if it meant facing Elijah, he was ready. He wouldn't let her go without a fight. Because Leah wasn't just the girl who had lit up his world; she was the reason he had the courage to be who he was.