The rain hadn't stopped since that night. Maya woke to the sound of it thrumming against the windowpane, her limbs heavy with sleep and thoughts that refused to rest. She reached across the bed, her hand brushing the cold, untouched side. Kian hadn't come home.
For a second, she lay still, breathing in the silence. Then she sat up slowly, the ache in her chest dull but ever-present. She checked her phone: no messages. Just a notification from her calendar about an overdue project and a blurry photo of her and Kian from three months ago when everything still felt effortless.
She deleted the photo without flinching.
By the time Kian walked in, just before noon, his clothes were damp, and his eyes were clouded with fatigue. Maya was in the kitchen, pretending to make tea she didn't really want.
"You stayed at Ivan's," she said without turning.
A pause. Then, "Yeah. I did."
Silence stretched between them like a tightrope.
"I didn't cheat on you," Kian added, voice low.
"I didn't ask that."
He moved closer, wet jacket clutched in one hand. "I just… I couldn't sleep. I needed to talk to someone who knew that part of me."
Maya finally turned to him. "And I don't?"
"It's not that," he said quickly. "It's not you. It's me still trying to figure out how to bring all of me into this relationship. Ivan's part of that past, whether we like it or not."
Maya's voice wavered. "Do you love him?"
Kian's eyes met hers—haunted, unsure, raw. "I did. Deeply. And maybe part of me always will. But not the way I love you."
"And what way is that?"
"The terrified kind," he admitted, stepping closer. "The kind that makes me want to be better, because I've never wanted someone to stay this badly before."
Maya let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Then stop making me feel like a visitor in your life, Kian."
He nodded, eyes glassy. "I will. I swear I will."
Later that day, Maya stood in the shower, her hands pressed against the cold tiles as the water ran down her back. Her mind looped back to Ivan, to the gentleness in his voice, to the sorrow in his eyes when he handed her the notebook. He was never the villain. Just a chapter Kian hadn't closed.
What scared her more was realizing she hadn't closed her own.
That afternoon, Maya met her best friend Zara at a rooftop café. The sky was still grey, but the rain had thinned to a lazy drizzle. Zara arrived in her usual whirlwind—red lipstick, oversized sunglasses, and an umbrella that immediately turned inside out.
Maya chuckled despite herself. "You look like a storm survivor."
"I am a storm survivor. London is trying to kill my vibe," Zara said, folding the umbrella with a dramatic flair. "Now spill. You sounded broken over text."
Maya told her everything. From the revelation to the notebook, to the haunting feeling that her relationship was now stitched with shadows she didn't know how to walk through.
Zara stirred her iced coffee thoughtfully. "You're not broken, babe. You're just finally seeing the whole picture. Kian's queerness isn't a betrayal. It's a truth. And if you love him, you'll walk with him through it. But not at the cost of your own peace."
Maya leaned back, eyes on the grey clouds. "I'm scared that loving him means constantly competing with the past."
"You're not in competition. You're in evolution," Zara said. "But you get to decide if this version of love is sustainable for you."
Maya nodded slowly. Her heart wasn't ready to give up—but it was tired.
That night, Kian cooked. Maya sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, watching him slice onions like it was an apology. They ate in near silence, forks clinking softly. He lit a candle between them, an old one that smelled like vanilla and home.
After dinner, Kian reached for her hand. She didn't pull away.
"I want to try therapy," he said. "Alone, and maybe with you too. I want to understand myself better. For real this time."
Maya nodded. "Okay."
"And I'll talk to Ivan. Set boundaries."
"Okay."
"And I'll stop expecting you to carry the weight of my confusion."
She looked at him then, really looked—at the curve of his jaw, the vulnerability in his voice, the man she fell for and the man he was becoming. Two versions of Kian, finally meeting in the mirror.
She squeezed his hand. "Okay."
They didn't kiss that night. They just sat together on the couch, side by side, a blanket over their knees, and silence resting between them like a truce.
Outside, the rain stopped. The city sighed. And Maya, for the first time in days, let herself hope again.