Alya arrived at Café Lumière just as the evening sun cast a soft golden glow through the windows. The familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air. She could already see Orlando sitting at their usual table, his guitar case leaning against the chair next to him. But something was different tonight. There was a quiet intensity in his demeanor, a seriousness that hadn't been there before.
As she walked toward him, Orlando stood up, his eyes locking with hers in a way that made her heart skip. He gave her a soft smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Hey," he said, his voice unusually soft. "Thanks for coming."
Alya nodded, her pulse quickening. "What's going on, Orlando? You said you wanted to show me something."
He hesitated for a moment, then gestured to the guitar case. "I wrote something for you," he said simply, and the words hung in the air between them.
Alya's breath caught in her throat. "For me?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet vulnerability. "It's... a song."
She blinked, unsure of what to say. She had never imagined Orlando as someone who would write a song for her. But somehow, in that moment, everything about him—his soft gaze, the gentle tension in his posture—made sense. He was opening up to her in a way that was both tender and raw.
Orlando sat back down, taking the guitar from its case and tuning it briefly. Alya sat across from him, her heart beating faster now, anticipating the moment when his fingers would brush the strings. She could see how much he cared about this, about sharing something so intimate with her.
After a few moments, he began to play. The melody was simple, soft at first, but there was something powerful in its simplicity. His voice joined the music, deep and melodic, and as he sang, the words wove into her heart.
"The sound of your name, like a whisper in the dark..."
Alya's eyes widened as she heard the words, her chest tightening. The song was beautiful. But more than that, it was about her. About them. She had never heard anything so vulnerable, so personal. It felt as though Orlando had reached into the depths of her heart and pulled out the very essence of what she had been feeling—what she had been trying to ignore for so long.
"...In the silence, I hear you calling me home."
The final note hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Alya was stunned. Her mind was racing, overwhelmed by the beauty of the song, the emotions it stirred in her. But more than that—more than anything—she was overwhelmed by the truth of it. Orlando's feelings. His heart.
Orlando set the guitar down, his hands trembling slightly. His gaze was fixed on her, searching her face for a reaction.
"Alya," he said softly, "I... I don't know if this is too soon, but I had to tell you. I've never met anyone like you. You've got this way of making me feel like... like I'm not alone in this world. And I know we've only known each other for a short time, but—"
"Orlando," she interrupted, her voice trembling. She had no idea what to say. Her heart was beating erratically, and the words that had been so carefully guarded in her chest were threatening to spill out.
"Don't," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "I don't need you to say anything. I just needed you to hear me. I needed you to know."
Alya sat there, her mind swirling. Her heart was torn between the raw honesty she saw in Orlando and the ghosts of Evan that still haunted her. She had never expected this—to find someone who could make her feel alive again, even if it was complicated. But how could she let herself fall for him when Evan's shadow was still so present in her life?
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Alya found her voice.
"I don't know if I'm ready, Orlando," she whispered, her eyes brimming with emotion. "There's still so much I don't understand about my past. About Evan. I can't just forget him, and I'm afraid that if I let you in... I'll be betraying him."
Orlando's eyes softened, and he reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. "Alya," he said, his voice filled with quiet compassion. "You don't have to forget him. You don't have to betray anyone. You just need to live. To feel. And if that means feeling again... even if it's with me, then I'll be here. No pressure. No expectations. Just... us, in this moment."
Alya looked at him, the weight of his words sinking into her heart. The song. His honesty. His willingness to wait.
And for the first time in years, she felt something stir inside her. Not a replacement for Evan, but something new. Something real.