The week passed slowly.
Work was steady. Clients were kind.
I made my deadlines. I cleaned my room. I drank water.
I was okay.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Elijah.
Not in the way I used to think about Jayden obsessively, nervously, always wondering if I had said the right thing or done too much.
This was different.
It wasn't a craving.
It was a calm curiosity.
Where was he now?
Was he sketching under soft light somewhere?
Did he think of me too?
I hated that I wondered.
Because I promised myself I wouldn't fall again not so easily, not so soon.
Saturday came.
The air smelled like rain but the sun stayed out warm, forgiving.
I went to the café, notebook in hand, pretending it was just a normal day.
But I chose the seat near the window again.
The one closest to his table.
He wasn't there.
I told myself I wasn't disappointed.
But I was lying.
---
I ordered, sipped slowly, and forced myself to sketch.
Lines became patterns. Patterns became shapes. But my thoughts kept drifting.
Just as I was about to leave, the bell above the café door rang softly.
I didn't look.
Not at first.
Then I heard his voice.
"Is this seat taken?"
He stood there, a little windblown, with a sketchpad under one arm and a bag of pastries in the other.
I blinked, surprised.
"I thought you weren't coming today," I said.
"I almost didn't," he replied. "But something told me I'd regret it if I didn't."
My heart didn't race.
It swelled.
We sat.
We didn't talk right away.
But it wasn't empty.
There was comfort in the quiet again.
Familiar. Gentle.
He handed me one of the pastries.
"They only had two left," he said. "I figured you'd like the almond one."
I smiled.
"You remembered."
"I notice things."
That sentence sat between us like a soft truth.
Later, I showed him one of my logo drafts.
He leaned in, nodding.
"Your design feels like breathing," he said.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my work."
"I meant it."
I wanted to believe him.
But a part of me still flinched.
What if this is just the beginning of another disappointment?
I don't know why, but I asked,
"Have you ever been in love?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes. But I was the one who loved more."
"What happened?"
"She loved the idea of me. Not the reality. I wasn't dramatic enough for her. Not mysterious. I just... showed up."
I stared at him.
Because that's exactly what I needed.
Someone who just showed up.
But my brain was still afraid.
"I'm still learning how to trust again," I said.
"That's okay," he replied. "I'm not here to rush you."
"What are you here for?" I asked, honestly.
He looked at me then, seriously, but not unkindly.
"To see what this becomes if it's real. And if it's not, I'll still be glad I met you."
That silence again.
Not tension.
Just truth.
He walked me home that day.
At my door, he didn't ask for a number.
He didn't ask to come in.
He didn't even try to hold my hand.
He just looked at me and said,
"You don't have to trust everything right now. Just trust this moment."
And I did.
That night, I stood at my window, watching the streetlights glow softly on the wet pavement.
I wanted to trust this.
Not just him but myself.
My judgment. My heart. My healing.
I didn't need fireworks.
I just needed safety.
And Elijah…
He felt like that.
I wrote in my journal:
I don't know where this is going.
But for the first time, I don't need to know.
Because he makes space for me to be unsure.
And that space? That's where real love can grow.
He didn't try to win me.
He just waited where I felt safe.
And somehow, that made me want to choose him even more.