Mira sat beneath the mango tree in her uncle's courtyard, her phone resting face-down on the bench beside her. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting golden specks across her skin. She hadn't answered Noah's call yet. She couldn't. Not while her past was sitting just a few feet away, stirring up things she thought were long buried.
David leaned against the trunk opposite her, his eyes soft. "I'm sorry for how we ended."
She looked away. "You disappeared."
"I was angry. Hurt. I thought you chose your dreams over us."
"I did choose my dreams," she said quietly. "And I'd do it again. But it never meant I didn't love you."
His voice dropped. "Do you still?"
That question sat heavy in the air. Mira didn't have an answer. She hadn't thought about David in years—had built walls so tall he couldn't touch her, even in memory. But now, sitting here with him, she wasn't sure those walls had ever truly kept him out.
"Things are different now," she whispered. "I'm different."
"You still wear that stubborn look when you're thinking too much," he said, smiling. "And you still walk away before people can hurt you."
"I don't walk away. I move forward."
"Same thing when it comes to love."
Her chest ached.
Noah had been patient, protective, a man who saw through her strength and admired it. He had loved her without needing to fix her. He had never asked her to choose between him and herself.
David? David had loved her deeply but conditionally.
"Call me. I miss your voice."
The text replayed in her mind.
Later that night, when the house was quiet and the crickets sang outside, Mira stood under the shower, letting the water pour over her as if it could wash away the confusion. She reached for her phone again and dialed Noah.
He picked up instantly.
"Mira."
Her breath caught. "I'm here."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them like an invisible thread—thin, fragile, but somehow unbreakable.
"I miss you," he said. "Come home."
"I'm trying to figure out where that is," she admitted.
Noah didn't rush her. He never did.
"You'll know. And wherever it is—I'll meet you there."
She closed her eyes, letting his voice settle in her bones. It wasn't just love. It was safety.
It was now.