The days stretched on, each one bringing its own quiet revelations. Leya had always been a person who valued independence, who believed that happiness came from standing on her own, without needing anyone to complete her. But every conversation with Reis, every lingering touch, every moment they shared, made her question that belief.
It wasn't that she was becoming dependent on him—no, it was something far deeper. She was starting to realize that love wasn't about completion. It was about growth. It was about learning from each other, opening up, and embracing the parts of yourself you had buried for too long.
Leya had spent years building walls around herself, hiding from the world and from others, thinking that she could survive without allowing anyone close. But Reis was different. His presence in her life wasn't an intrusion. It was a mirror. A reflection of the things she had hidden from even herself.
One evening, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of gold and lavender, Leya sat on the balcony of her apartment, gazing out over the city. Reis had left only a few minutes ago, his words still echoing in her mind.
"I'm not asking for perfection, Leya," he had said, his voice gentle but firm. "I just want us to be real. I want us to be better than who we were before."
She ran a hand through her hair, sighing deeply. It wasn't that she didn't want to try. It was just that the weight of everything—the time that had passed, the mistakes they had made, the paths they had chosen—felt almost too heavy to carry.
Reis, for his part, was struggling with his own demons.
Despite the progress they had made, despite the hope he had begun to feel, he couldn't shake the doubt that lingered in the back of his mind. Could they really build something real? Could they move past the mistakes of their past?
He had spent years believing in the idea of fate—that things happened for a reason, that love was something that could transcend time and distance. But now, with Leya, he wasn't sure. Maybe it wasn't fate after all. Maybe it was choice. And maybe, just maybe, it was the choice to face their fears and their flaws, to move forward not despite their past, but because of it.
That night, as he sat alone in his apartment, he picked up his phone and sent her a message:
"Leya, I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything. I don't want you to feel pressured. Take your time. But know that I'm here, and I'm willing to try. I'm willing to be part of your journey, if you'll have me."
The next day, they met again, but this time there was a quiet tension in the air, a delicate balance between hope and uncertainty.
Leya sat across from Reis, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, her mind racing. She had read his message, and part of her wanted to run toward him, to take his hand and never look back. But another part of her, the part that had been hurt before, the part that feared vulnerability, held her back.
"I've been thinking," she began, her voice tentative. "About what you said last time. About us being real."
Reis leaned forward, his gaze steady and patient. "And what do you think, Leya?"
"I think... I think I'm scared," she admitted, her voice breaking just a little. "I'm scared that if we try, we'll fall into old patterns. That I'll hurt you, or worse, that you'll hurt me. I don't know if I can take that again."
Reis didn't respond immediately. He understood her fear—it was the same fear that had kept him up at night, wondering if they were just fooling themselves. But he also knew that without taking risks, without facing those fears, they would never know what they could have.
"We can't predict the future," he said softly. "But we can choose to make it different. We can choose to face it together. The past doesn't define us unless we let it."
Leya's eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt something inside her begin to shift. It wasn't an easy thing to admit, but she realized that perhaps she had been holding on to the past for far too long. She had built walls not just to protect herself, but because she didn't believe she deserved to be loved again.
"I don't want to be afraid anymore," Leya whispered, her heart thudding in her chest. "I don't want to be afraid of us."
Reis reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. "Then we'll face it together. Step by step. No expectations, just us. And I'll be here, no matter what."
For a moment, everything felt right. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the way either of them had imagined their reunion, but it was real. And for the first time in a long while, Leya felt a spark of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, they could build something that was truly theirs.