We both knew something changed but no one wanted to admit it. Or do we?
Liana
I woke with a dry mouth and the weight of sunlight pressing through the curtains.
It took a few seconds before I realized where I was.
The bed.
The blanket.
The way the window rattled faintly when the wind hit the corner of the house.
My old room.
Elias's house.
I sat up slowly, head pulsing.
My backpack was neatly placed on the chair.
My necklace still around my neck.
Why am I here?
I rubbed my eyes, but the night before was a blur of lights, voices, and lemon—lots of lemon.
Alex's laugh.
Music.
Heat on my face.
Then—
Nothing.
I stood up too fast. The room tilted for half a second before steadying again.
In the bathroom mirror, my reflection looked like I'd fought a small hurricane and lost.
Hair messy. Eyes puffy.
I turned on the faucet and rinsed my mouth.
What did I say?
Did I do something stupid?
Oh god, did I cry?
I brushed my teeth in a panic, trying to scrub away the memories along with the alcohol taste.
When I came out, the hallway smelled like eggs and toast.
I followed it to the kitchen.
Elias
She walked in slowly.
Still in the same dress from last night, hair damp at the ends like she'd washed her face and given up halfway.
She looked... shy.
"I made eggs," I said, flipping the last one onto a plate.
Her voice was hoarse. "Thanks."
She sat down without meeting my eyes.
"You drank too fast," I added, keeping my tone light.
She made a quiet, dying noise into her cup. "I don't really remember… Did I say anything weird?"
I set the fork down. Leaned on the counter.
"You told me I smell like myself."
Her head snapped up.
"I—what?!"
I couldn't help it. I smiled. "Yeah. Real poetic."
She looked like she wanted to vanish through the floor.
I didn't tell her she'd also leaned into me.
Didn't say she'd whispered my name like it was the only thing she trusted.
Didn't mention the way her hand had rested over my heart while she fell asleep.
Instead, I said, "You're banned from Lemon Drops. Actually, you're banned from drinking anything unless I approve it."
She gave me a look. "You're not my dad."
"No," I said. "I'm not."
That shut both of us up.
The kitchen went quiet.
I turned back to the stove and grabbed the plates.
Set one in front of her.
She poked at the eggs.
I sipped my coffee.
She wanted to ask why I brought her back here.
I wanted to ask how much she remembered.
Neither of us said a word.
Outside, a breeze moved the curtains. The clock ticked too loud.
Everything felt still.
Like we were standing too close to a cliff edge, waiting to see who stepped forward first.
But we didn't.
We just ate in silence.
Each of us pretending nothing had changed.
Even though we both knew—
Something had.