Ryan wasn't looking for anything serious.
At least that's what he told himself.
He met her on a random Thursday afternoon at a café near his apartment. He had gone there to study — headphones in, laptop open, petroleum engineering notes spread across the table.
She asked if she could share his table.
The café was full.
He nodded without looking up much.
Her name was Maya.
She was easy to talk to. Soft-spoken but confident. She laughed at his dry jokes. She asked about his major and seemed genuinely impressed when he explained reservoir simulations and drilling systems.
"You make it sound interesting," she had smiled.
Most people didn't.
After that day, they kept running into each other.
Elevator.
Parking lot.
Balcony.
That's when he found out she lived next door.
It felt… convenient.
Safe.
No history. No expectations.
Just something simple.
So when she asked, "Do you want to grab dinner sometime?" he didn't hesitate.
"Sure."
Now he stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his watch.
It felt strange.
He hadn't done this in years.
Three years, to be exact.
He picked up his phone unconsciously, thumb hovering over nothing in particular.
For a second — just one second — he imagined texting Zoey.
Then he locked the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
That chapter was closed.
Wasn't it?
Maya chose a small restaurant not far from their apartment complex. It was warm, casual, comfortable.
She looked pretty.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just effortlessly.
"You clean up nice," she teased when she saw him.
Ryan smirked. "I could say the same."
They ordered food. Talked about work, life, neighbors who made too much noise.
Maya worked in digital marketing. She had big dreams of starting her own agency one day.
Ryan admired ambition.
Zoey used to talk about building her own real estate empire one day.
The thought came uninvited.
He took a sip of water to drown it.
Maya leaned forward. "You're very calm. I like that."
Calm.
That was new.
He used to be fire.
Passionate. Reactive. Emotional.
Zoey used to say he felt everything too loudly.
Maya laughed softly at something he said.
Zoey used to laugh louder.
Stop.
Focus.
Maya was here.
Present.
Real.
"So," she asked gently, "when was your last relationship?"
There it was.
He knew it would come eventually.
"A while ago," he replied carefully.
"How long is a while?"
"Three years."
Her brows lifted slightly. "That's serious territory."
"It was."
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't say her name.
But the silence that followed carried weight.
Maya studied him. "Did it end badly?"
Ryan gave a small, humorless chuckle.
"I messed up."
It was the first time he had admitted that out loud to anyone.
Maya didn't pry further.
"I'm sorry," she said simply.
That softness almost made him uncomfortable.
Zoey wouldn't have said "I'm sorry."
Zoey would've argued. Challenged him. Forced him to confront his emotions head-on.
Maya let things breathe.
It was peaceful.
And yet…
Peace didn't fill the empty spaces the same way chaos once had.
When Maya reached across the table to touch his hand, he stiffened for half a second before relaxing.
Zoey's hands used to fit into his like they belonged there.
Maya's touch was warm.
But unfamiliar.
He hated that his brain was doing this.
Comparing.
Measuring.
Remembering.
"Are you okay?" Maya asked.
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Just tired from work."
Lie.
He wasn't tired.
He was haunted.
After dinner, they walked back toward their apartment building together. The night air was cool. Quiet.
Comfortable silence stretched between them.
"You know," Maya said softly, "I'm glad I asked you to share that table that day."
Ryan smiled faintly. "Me too."
And he meant it.
She was good.
Kind.
Easy.
No emotional storms.
No dramatic history.
Just a girl who happened to live next door.
When they reached their floor, she paused outside her door.
"I had a good time," she said.
"Yeah. Me too."
She hesitated before stepping closer.
Ryan saw it coming.
The kiss.
His heart didn't race.
It didn't panic.
It just… paused.
Zoey used to look at him differently before kissing him — like the world narrowed down to just the two of them.
Maya leaned in gently.
He let her.
It was soft. Brief. Careful.
When she pulled back, she smiled.
"Goodnight, Ryan."
"Goodnight."
He watched her go inside her apartment.
Then he stepped into his own.
The silence hit immediately.
He loosened his collar and leaned against the door.
Why didn't it feel like anything?
Not wrong.
Not right.
Just… neutral.
He walked to his balcony, staring at the city lights.
Three years ago, he had stood in another building, yelling words he couldn't take back.
Three years ago, Zoey had walked away crying.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
Why now?
Why, after all this time, did everything remind him of her?
He pulled out his phone without thinking.
Opened social media.
Scrolled.
There she was again.
A new post.
She looked radiant.
Different.
Stronger.
There was a man in the background of the photo — blurred but noticeable.
Ryan's jaw tightened.
Who was that?
He zoomed in slightly, as if clarity would calm him.
It didn't.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling crept into his chest.
Jealousy.
He had no right.
He knew that.
But knowing didn't stop it.
He locked his phone and exhaled sharply.
He went on a date tonight.
He kissed someone.
He should feel like he's moving on.
Instead, he felt like he was falling behind.
And somewhere across the city, Zoey lay in bed wondering why Daniel's steady warmth couldn't erase a love that had once burned too bright.
Two different apartments.
Two different dates.
Two different people trying to move forward.
But neither of them realizing that even after three years…
Their hearts were still quietly facing each other.
Their hearts ached for each other.