The night wrapped itself around the city with a deceptive calm, as though everything had finally come to rest after a long and exhausting day. The distant hum of traffic softened into something almost unnoticeable, and the glow of streetlights stretched across the empty roads like silent witnesses to a world that refused to completely sleep.
From the outside, the small house they had rented looked peaceful, its lights turned off and its windows dark, giving the illusion that the people inside had surrendered to rest. But inside, sleep had no place. Ryan lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might eventually give him answers.
The faint ticking of the clock echoed through the room, each second dragging itself forward in a way that made time feel heavier rather than lighter. He turned to one side, adjusting his pillow, closing his eyes with effort, but the moment darkness settled, his thoughts betrayed him again.
Maya appeared. Not as a distant memory, but as something vivid and alive, as if she had been waiting behind his eyelids all along.
Her voice came first. "Stop ignoring me. I know you're awake."
Ryan's eyes opened immediately, a quiet breath leaving him as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
"Of course I was awake," he murmured to the empty room, his voice carrying a tired familiarity, as if he had answered her a hundred times before. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked away, but the memories didn't stop. They came one after another, uninvited, each one sharper than the last.
He remembered that evening on the street, the two of them standing under a flickering streetlight, arguing over something so trivial it should have meant nothing.
"Pineapple belongs on pizza," Maya had said firmly, her arms crossed, her expression completely serious.
"It's a crime," Ryan replied without hesitation.
"It's called having taste."
"It's called ruining food."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're wrong."
"Oh, so now you decide what's right and wrong?"
"Yes."
"Wow," she scoffed, turning away dramatically. "I can't believe I even talk to you."
"Then don't," he shot back.
She spun around immediately. "I won't"
A pause. Two seconds later, she added, "But you're still wrong."
Ryan let out a quiet breath now, the memory lingering longer than he expected. At the time, it had been nothing more than a pointless argument. Now, it felt like something he would give anything to relive.
Another memory surfaced, softer this time, wrapped in the sound of rain pouring heavily against the windows. The power had gone out that night, plunging everything into darkness. Ryan had been sitting in silence when a knock echoed through his apartment.
He opened the door to find Maya standing there, holding a flashlight under her chin, her face lit in the most dramatic way possible.
"Your apartment is darker than my future," she announced.
Ryan stared at her for a moment. "You live next door."
"Yes," she said calmly. "I know this isn't my Apartment"
"Then why here?"
She shrugged, stepping inside without waiting. "Because I knew you'd be awake."
Ryan leaned against the doorframe now, remembering how he had closed the door behind her that night, how natural it had felt, how normal it had seemed to have her there. The memory shifted slightly, moving forward to the quiet that followed, the rain softening outside as they sat across from each other in the dim light of the flashlight.
He remembered asking her something then, something he hadn't thought much about at the time.
"Why do you always come to me?"
Maya had gone quiet for a moment, her expression changing in a way that was subtle but real.
Then she smiled, softer than usual. "Because you always open the door."
Ryan's chest tightened at the memory. He closed his eyes again, but this time it wasn't to sleep. It was to hold onto that moment just a little longer, to keep her voice from fading too quickly.
Another memory followed before he could stop it. Late night at a small café. Maya sitting across from him, stealing fries from his plate without asking.
"Do you mind?" he had said, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't even look guilty. "Yes."
"Then why are you still doing it?"
"Because you won't stop me"
"I will"
"You won't."
He reached for the plate, pulling it slightly away from her.
She leaned forward immediately, grabbing another fry. "See? You're too slow."
Ryan had sighed. "Rude." He looked away then, hiding the faint smile that had threatened to appear.
Back in the present, Ryan pressed his lips together, the weight of those small moments settling heavily in his chest. None of them had seemed important at the time. None of them had felt like something he needed to hold onto. But now they were all he had. And it wasn't enough.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the window, his reflection faint against the glass as the city lights flickered in the distance. Everything outside looked normal, untouched, as if nothing had changed. But everything had. He picked up his phone again, opening their chat, his eyes locking onto the last message she had sent.
"Stop working and comeback it's already late" His thumb hovered over the screen, the urge to reply rising instinctively.
"Sorry, I was busy," he whispered softly. The silence that followed felt louder than anything else.
Another memory came, quieter, almost hidden among the others. Maya standing at his door again, this time without knocking. He had looked up from his work, slightly annoyed. "Do you ever use the doorbell?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because knocking is more dramatic."
"That's not a valid reason."
"It is for me."
He sighed. "What do you want?"
She leaned against the doorframe, watching him carefully for a moment before speaking."Nothing."
"Then why are you here?"
She shrugged. "I was bored"
"You have your own apartment"
"I like this one better"
Ryan had looked at her then, something about her tone making him pause. "Why?" he asked again.
This time, she didn't joke. This time, she didn't deflect. She just looked at him and said quietly, "Because you're here."
Ryan clenched his jaw, the memory hitting harder than the others. He hadn't understood then. He understood now. He turned away from the window, his movements no longer slow or uncertain. The hesitation that had been holding him back all night began to fade, replaced by something sharper, something more certain. Waiting felt wrong. Sitting still felt worse.
Wherever she was, whatever she was facing, she was doing it alone. And that was something he couldn't accept. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and pulled it on, his movements quick now, driven by something deeper than thought.
He picked up his keys and walked toward the door, his hand pausing briefly on the handle. The room behind him remained silent, unchanged, but he knew he couldn't stay there any longer. He took a slow breath, his voice quiet but firm as he spoke into the emptiness.
"Wait for me, Maya."