We came undone together, not with a roar but with a quiet unraveling—like two threads woven so tightly they could only break at the same time. Her fingers dug into my back, her breath catching against my neck, and I felt her fall apart beneath me as I let go too—no walls, no armor. Just her name on my lips like a prayer, like a promise.
The world faded until there was nothing but the rush of blood in my ears and the heat of her skin pressed against mine, grounding me in something that felt dangerously close to forever.
Afterward, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, chest to chest, heart to heart. She fit there perfectly, her face tucked beneath my chin, her breath warm against my collarbone.
I held her like she might slip through my fingers if I eased up for even a second—like if I let go, I’d lose more than just her. I’d lose whatever it was she’d stirred awake in me. So I stayed there, clutching her to me like she was the first real thing I’d ever known.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, immediately regretting it as the cold hardwood kissed my bare feet. The warmth of the sheets still clung to my skin like a phantom, and for a moment, I considered crawling back in—back to her. But the clock didn’t care that I wanted to stay. The road trip loomed, ticking closer with every heartbeat.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling a breath I didn’t remember holding. The last few days with her had unraveled me in ways I hadn’t expected—every kiss, every look, every moment too damn good to be temporary. But now I had to leave. Five days. Just five days. It shouldn’t have felt like a lifetime.
I made my way to the sink, splashing cold water on my face like it could sober me from the haze she left me in. It didn’t help. When I looked up, I caught her reflection through the bathroom mirror—moving through my kitchen like she belonged there. One of my hoodies hung off her shoulder, sleeves too long, her hair a wild mess I’d give anything to tangle my fingers in again.
She was humming. Just softly. And something in me twisted at the sound of it. Like maybe the walls I’d built around myself didn’t stand a chance anymore.
I watched her stir a pot on the stove, bare feet padding against the tile, completely at home in a space I hadn’t realized was so empty until she walked into it. She wasn’t trying to be anything but herself—and yet she’d filled every corner of this place without even trying. It wasn’t just the hoodie. It was the way she moved, the warmth in her voice, the memory of her mouth pressed to mine like a promise I didn’t know I was making.
She looked over her shoulder and caught me watching. Smiled—like it was nothing. Like it didn’t undo me completely.
“Good morning,” she said, and it landed in my chest like a punch and a balm at the same time. "Again."
“Morning,” I said back, voice rougher than I meant it to be. Not from sleep—just from missing her before I’d even left.
She turned back to the stove, humming again, and I stood there in the doorway like an idiot, trying to memorize the way she looked in my kitchen, in my life. Like maybe if I did, the next five days wouldn’t feel like hell. Like maybe coming back wouldn’t feel like a risk.
But it would. Because this—her—was starting to feel like everything I didn’t know I needed.
Smoke wafted through the kitchen like it was trying to make a dramatic exit. I stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of me: Mina, fanning a dishrag furiously in front of the smoke detector, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and a frying pan on the stove looking like it had survived a war.
“You trying to kill me before I get on the plane?” I asked, one brow lifting.
She whipped around, caught red-handed, guilt and defiance both flashing in her eyes. “You distracted me! I was going to surprise you.”
“Oh, I’m surprised,” I said, stepping closer and surveying the damage. “Did you set the toast… on fire?”
She glanced at the blackened remains on the counter. “Okay, yes. But in my defense, your toaster has, like, no middle setting. It’s either ‘still bread’ or ‘apocalypse.’”
I coughed pointedly as I opened a window. “And the eggs?”
“I didn’t realize the pan would heat up that fast!” she cried, hands on her hips now. “I was going for soft scramble, not… charred regret.”
I tried to stifle my laugh, but it slipped out anyway. “You know, most people say goodbye with a hug. You went full arsonist.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as if daring me to keep teasing. “Well, excuse me for wanting to make you breakfast like a doting...” She let her voice trail off, her neck a delicious shade of red.
I stepped close, brushing a curl from her face. “You could’ve just handed me a protein bar and smiled. I’d have been wrecked either way.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”
I leaned in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Not a chance. But next time, we’re making breakfast together.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But you get to use the evil toaster.”
“Deal. Just stay away from open flames.”
I didn’t even pretend I was going to cook after the chaos she unleashed in my kitchen.
“I’m ordering takeout,” I said, already scrolling through the app on my phone. “From somewhere that doesn’t require fire, knives, or your ‘breakfast of champions.’”
