Kieran's POV
The weeks passed by in a blur, and I could feel the distance growing. She wasn't avoiding me out of anger or annoyance; it was something else, something harder to pinpoint. But the silence was louder than her laughter had ever been, and I hated it.
Nathan was around more and more these days, his presence filling the apartment in ways that felt claustrophobic. It made me restless, a slow-burning agitation settling under my skin. Every time he walked in like he owned the place, I had to remind myself to keep my cool, to not let the irritation show. But it was there, coiling tight in my chest, making it harder to ignore the unspoken tension lingering in every corner of our shared space. He wasn't exactly subtle in his hostility, either. The sharp looks he sent my way, the pointed remarks about boundaries—he might as well have planted a flag in the middle of the living room declaring himself king of this territory. I kept my cool, though. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it grated on me.
But Anh? She'd grown quieter around me, retreating into spaces I couldn't quite reach. Every now and then, she'd flash that same warm smile, and for a second, it felt like everything was fine. Then she'd pull away again, leaving me standing in the wake of her absence. It was frustrating, but more than that, it left this aching hollow in my chest I couldn't shake.
What made it worse were the nights when I couldn't help but hear her and Nathan. Their laughter, their closeness, and sometimes... more than that. The muffled sounds coming from her room were like a punch to the gut, my fingers curling into fists against my thighs as I tried to focus on anything else. My jaw clenched, my breath came a little too sharp, and I forced myself to stare at the ceiling, willing the ache in my chest to disappear. It reminded me of the line I couldn't cross, a line that felt more unbearable with each passing night. I hated how much it hurt, hated the jealousy and longing that twisted in my stomach, and yet I couldn't stop myself from feeling it. Each sound was a reminder that she wasn't mine to want, no matter how much I wished things were different.
One night, after Nathan had left, the apartment was finally quiet again. She lingered by the counter, cleaning up the mugs they'd used, her movements slow and deliberate. I sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my attention was entirely on her. I'd gotten good at reading the unspoken things—the way her shoulders tensed slightly, the way her gaze darted away from mine like she was afraid of what I'd see there.
I wanted to say something. Break the ice. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled up in the reality of her situation and the boundaries we both tried so hard to maintain.
Instead, I leaned back and broke the silence. "You've been quiet lately. Everything okay?"
Her hands paused for a second before she continued washing the mug. "Yeah, just… busy, I guess." Her voice was light, but there was a weight to it that gave her away.
"Busy, huh?" I said, my tone teasing but gentle. "Is that code for avoiding me?"
She turned slightly, a hint of guilt flashing across her face before she covered it with a small smile. "No, of course not. Why would I avoid you?"
I shrugged, keeping it casual. "I don't know. Maybe because Nathan looks like he's ready to throw me out a window every time he's here."
That got a laugh out of her, soft but genuine, and it eased something tight in my chest. For a moment, it felt like we were back to normal, even if I knew it wouldn't last.
"I will talk to him to lay off your back," she said after a pause. Her voice softened, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry about his behavior. You shouldn't have to feel like this in your own home."
I gave her a small smile, my tone lighter than I felt. "It's not your fault, Anh. I can handle him. But... thanks for saying that. It means a lot."
"I'm cooking dinner, do you want to join me?" she asked, her voice tentative but warm.
I blinked, surprised by the offer, but then nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. Just tell me what you need help with."
For a moment, her words made me feel lighter, like things between us weren't as distant as they'd seemed lately. But beneath that lightness, there was hesitation—a cautious hope that maybe, just maybe, this was a step toward reclaiming what we once had. Or maybe I was fooling myself, grasping at something that was never truly mine to begin with. The idea of spending even a little more time with her, without Nathan's shadow looming over us, stirred something warm in my chest. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn't stop the quiet hope that maybe this was a small step back to the ease we used to have.
She opened up the fridge and frowned, realizing it was almost empty. Then she moved to the pantry, scanning the shelves, but there was nothing that could be turned into dinner. Turning back to me, she looked apologetic. "Sorry, Kieran, I forgot to shop for groceries," she said, pausing before adding with a hopeful smile, "But maybe we can go out and eat?"
I shrugged, my grin easy. "Sounds like a plan. Let me grab my jacket, and we can turn this into a proper dinner adventure."
"My car or your car?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her tone casual, though I caught the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
I smirked, catching on. "My car. But fair warning, it's nothing fancy. Let me surprise you."
As we got to the garage, I pressed the button to unlock my car, and the headlights of a sleek BMW Z4 lit up. "Nothing fancy," she muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with playful disbelief.
I glanced at her, a grin tugging at my lips. "What? It gets me from point A to point B. That's all that matters, right?"
The truth was, I'd never really cared about showing off, but seeing her reaction made something stir inside me. There was a small spark of pride in her surprise, and maybe—just maybe—a part of me liked the idea of impressing her, even if I played it off casually. Her playful disbelief, the way she muttered under her breath, it added a lightness to the moment that I hadn't felt in weeks.
She stepped into the car, running her fingers along the leather seat with a small grin. I watched her and maybe, just maybe, I liked the way she looked at me in that moment. "Any clue where we're going?" she asked, turning to me. "I'm down for anything except seafood tonight."
I chuckled, sliding into the driver's seat. "Noted. Lucky for you, I know a great spot. Trust me, you'll love it."
"I hope you're right, or otherwise we're going to McDonald's," she joked, her tone light and teasing. The back-and-forth banter between us eased the tension that had been lingering, and for the first time in a while, it felt like we were slipping back into our old dynamic.
I grinned, glancing over at her. "No pressure, right? Don't worry, I'm confident you won't be disappointed."
We pulled up to a small, cozy restaurant that served Asian fusion cuisine. The warm glow of the lights spilling out from its windows made it instantly inviting. She stepped out of the car, looking around with curiosity before flashing me a smile.
"I love this place," she said as we walked in. The evening felt easy and unhurried. We talked all night, laughing more than we had in weeks, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was refreshing. She seemed lighter, and I couldn't stop the thought creeping in—how different she is from Nathan. He was serious, rigid even. She made everything more fun—spontaneous, playful, and light in a way that felt effortless. With her, conversations never felt forced, laughter came easily, and even the most mundane moments had a warmth to them. She was unpredictable, always surprising me with her wit and her ability to turn the simplest things into something memorable. Nathan, on the other hand, was calculated, structured—everything in his world fit neatly into a box, including Anh. But she wasn't meant to be confined. And being with her tonight reminded me of just how much I missed moments like these with her.