The rain had stopped hours ago, but the smell of it still lingered in the air—cold, sharp, and a little too familiar.
I stood in the kitchen, wiping the same clean counter for the fourth time, pretending I wasn't waiting for something.
Or someone.
I wasn't angry at him anymore.
But I wasn't soft either.
Just… tired.
The kind of tired that sits in your bones.
When the doorbell rang, my fingers froze mid-wipe.
I already knew who it was.
I didn't go immediately. Instead, I let the silence stretch—just to see if he'd ring twice.
He didn't.
He waited.
Quietly.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Leo.
Drenched, not from rain… but from whatever storm he had been carrying inside him.
He didn't speak.
I didn't speak.
We just looked at each other. Two people who had hurt each other in different ways, too stubborn to admit it, too tired to keep fighting.
His eyes lowered first.
"I'm not here to argue," he said, voice low, rough. "I just… needed to see you."
He wasn't giving excuses.
He wasn't defending himself.
He wasn't acting like he always did.
He looked genuinely… sorry.
And that was new.
Dangerously new.
I stepped aside, letting him in.
He walked slowly, like he wasn't sure he had the right.
The room felt smaller with him in it. Not because of his presence—but because of the words stuck between us.
He turned to me.
"Lana… I messed up."
Simple. Quiet.
No dramatic apology, no over-the-top regret.
Just truth.
My chest tightened.
"Yeah," I replied, equally quiet. "You did."
He nodded, accepting it.
"I don't want to lose you," he added, eyes finally meeting mine. "Even if you're angry. Even if you don't forgive me today. I just needed you to know that."
The way he said it—raw, unpolished, real—made something inside me flicker.
Something I wasn't ready to name.
I crossed my arms, partly to shield myself, partly to keep my thoughts from spilling out.
"You can't just show up and fix everything with one apology, Leo."
"I know," he whispered. "But I had to start somewhere."
Silence again.
Heavy.
Full.
Alive.
I didn't forgive him.
Not yet.
But… for the first time in days, the weight on my chest felt a little less crushing.
Maybe this was step one.
Maybe this was us learning to stop hurting each other.
Or maybe it was just a moment—small but necessary.
Either way…
I didn't shut the door on him.
And he didn't run away this time.
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