CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday morning. No coffee on the counter.
Lira woke confused. Then she heard sounds from the kitchen. Movement. Someone cooking.
She walked out in her pajamas. Hair messy. Eyes half open.
Kael stood at the stove. He was making eggs. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt. She had never seen him in anything but a suit.
"You cook now?" she asked.
"I'm learning." He gestured to the pan. "The eggs might be terrible."
She leaned against the counter and watched him. He was focused. Determined. He flipped the eggs carefully, like they were important documents.
He put a plate in front of her. The eggs were slightly burned. The toast was cold.
She took a bite.
"Perfect," she said.
He almost smiled. "Liar."
"You're right. But you tried. That's what matters."
He sat beside her with his own plate. They ate together. Burned eggs and cold toast. It was the best breakfast she could remember.
---
After breakfast, he asked if she wanted to see the studio again. She said yes.
They went to floor 85. The empty room. Sunlight pouring in.
She walked around the space. Measuring with her eyes. Imagining possibilities.
"I could put a desk here," she said. "By the window. And shelves along that wall. And a table for spreading out large drawings."
He listened. He nodded.
"Whatever you need," he said. "Just tell Elena."
She turned to him. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Being kind. Giving me things. Making me breakfast."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at her directly.
"Because no one has ever looked at me the way you do," he said. "Like I'm worth seeing."
She crossed the room. She stood close to him.
"You are worth seeing," she said.
He reached up. Slowly. Like he was afraid. He touched her face. Just for a moment.
Then he stepped back.
"We should go," he said. "I have work."
He left quickly. She stood in the sunlight and touched her cheek where his fingers had been.
---
That afternoon, she visited her father.
Antonio was doing well. Walking without the cane for short distances. The doctors were optimistic.
She told him about the studio. About the burned eggs. About the way Kael touched her face and then ran away.
Her father listened. He smiled.
"He's scared," Antonio said.
"Of what?"
"Of feeling something. Of wanting something. Of losing it once he has it."
She sat on the edge of his bed.
"What do I do?"
Her father took her hand. "You wait. You be patient. You show him that wanting things is not weakness. It's courage."
She nodded. She hoped she was brave enough.
---
That night, Kael came home late. After midnight.
She was in the kitchen. Sitting in the dark. Waiting.
He stopped in the doorway.
"You're awake," he said.
"I couldn't sleep."
He sat beside her at the counter. Same spot. Same dark. Same almost-touching shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he said. "For this morning. I shouldn't have—"
"You should have."
He looked at her.
"You should have touched my face," she said. "You should have stayed."
He was quiet.
"I don't know how to do this," he said. "I don't know how to want something and not be terrified."
"Me neither. But we can learn together."
He looked at her for a long time. Then he reached out again. He took her hand.
"Okay," he said. "Together."
---
They sat like that for an hour. Holding hands in the dark.
When she finally went to bed, she felt something she had not felt in years.
Hope.
CHAPTER SIX
Monday morning. Coffee on the counter. Kael still there.
He was dressed for work but not rushing. He leaned against the counter, watching her walk in.
"You're here again," she said.
"It's Monday."
"You work on Mondays."
"I know." He paused. "I wanted to see you before I left."
Her heart did something strange. A flutter she could not control.
They ate breakfast together. Burned eggs again. He was getting better. Only slightly burned this time.
"I have meetings all day," he said. "But I'll try to be home by eight."
"Okay."
He stood at the door. Hesitated.
"Lira."
"Yes?"
"Have a good day."
He left before she could answer.
She stood in the kitchen and smiled like an idiot.
---
She spent the morning at her new studio.
Elena had arranged for a desk. A large one. And shelves. And a table for spreading out drawings. The room was still empty, but it was starting to feel like hers.
She sat by the window and sketched. The view of Queens. The buildings she knew. The streets she had walked a thousand times.
She drew for hours. Lost in it. Happy.
At noon, Elena brought her lunch.
"Mr. Vance asked me to check on you," Elena said. "Make sure you're eating."
"He did?"
Elena smiled. A warm smile. "I've worked for him for twelve years. I've never seen him like this."
"Like what?"
"Worried about someone. Thoughtful. Human."
Lira did not know what to say.
Elena set down the lunch. "He's a good man. He just forgot for a while. You're helping him remember."
---
That afternoon, she visited her father.
Antonio was stronger. Walking without the cane. Talking about going home soon.
She told him about the studio. About the sketching. About Kael asking Elena to check on her.
Her father listened. He nodded.
"He's falling in love with you," Antonio said.
"Papa—"
"I see it. In the way he looks at you. The way he cares." He took her hand. "The question is, what do you feel?"
She thought about it. The flutter in her chest. The way she looked for him in the morning. The way she missed him when he was gone.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe the same."
Her father smiled. "Then don't be afraid, mija. Love is the only thing worth the risk."
---
That night, Kael came home at 7:30.
Earlier than promised. She was in the kitchen, cooking. He stood in the doorway and watched.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said.
"I know. I hurried."
She turned to look at him. He looked tired. But his eyes were soft.
"Rough day?" she asked.
"Long day. Better now."
They ate together. Talked about nothing. Her students. His meetings. The weather. Small things that felt big because they were sharing them.
After dinner, he helped with dishes. She dried. He washed. Like before. Like always now.
"I have something for you," he said.
He pulled an envelope from his pocket. She opened it. Tickets. A drawing class. The best one in the city. Taugh
t by an artist she had admired for years.
"Kael..."
"You said you wanted to learn more. I asked Elena to find the best teacher."
She stared at the tickets. Then at him.
"No one has ever—" She stopped. Her voice was shaking.
"What?"