CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning, Lira woke to the smell of coffee.

But this time, Kael was still there.

He stood at the counter, pouring two cups. He wore a different suit. Dark gray. His hair was still damp from the shower.

"You're here," she said.

"It's Saturday."

She blinked. Saturday. She had lost track of days.

"I don't work on Saturdays," he said. "Usually I pretend to. But today I thought I would try something different."

"What?"

He gestured to the counter. Bagels. Cream cheese. Fresh fruit arranged on a plate.

"Breakfast," he said. "Made by me. Well, assembled by me. The bagels are from a shop."

She laughed. A real laugh. He watched her with something soft in his eyes.

They ate together at the counter. He asked about her students. She told him stories. The boy who cried because his goldfish died. The girl who announced she was marrying her best friend when they grew up. The class pet hamster that escaped and was found three days later living in the supply closet.

He listened. He asked questions. He almost smiled multiple times.

"This is nice," she said.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

---

After breakfast, he asked if she wanted to see something.

He took her to a floor of the tower she had never visited. Floor 85. The windows faced east, toward Queens. Toward her old neighborhood.

He led her to a room at the end of the hall. Empty. Sunlight pouring in.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Nothing yet. But I thought..." He paused. Uncomfortable. "You draw buildings. You study architecture. I thought maybe you would want a space. To work. To create. If you want."

She stared at him.

"You're giving me an office?"

"A studio. If you want it. You can design it however you like. Elena will help with whatever you need."

She did not know what to say. No one had ever given her space before. No one had ever given her room to create.

"Why?" she asked.

He looked at her. Direct. Honest.

"Because you stopped drawing," he said. "Because you forgot you were allowed to have things just for you. I want you to remember."

She kissed his cheek. Quick. Impulsive.

He went very still.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded. His jaw was tight. His eyes were bright.

---

That afternoon, she visited her father.

Antonio was walking laps around the hospital corridor. Slow. Steady. Determined.

She told him about the studio. About Kael's gift. About the empty room with sunlight and windows facing Queens.

Her father stopped walking.

"He gave you a studio?"

"Yes."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

Antonio was quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled. A knowing smile.

"That man loves you," he said.

"Papa-"

"He gave you space to create. Space to be yourself. That is love, mija. That is real love."

She did not argue. She could not.

---

That night, she cooked dinner again. Kael came home at 7pm. On purpose. To eat with her.

They sat at the table. Both of them. Like a real couple.

"I spoke to my father today," she said. "He thinks you love me."

Kael's fork paused.

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything. He figured it out himself."

He was quiet for a long moment.

"Your father is a smart man," he said finally.

She looked at him. He looked at her.

Neither looked away.

---

After dinner, they sat on the balcony. First time. City lights below. Stars hidden behind the glow.

"Tell me about your mother leaving," she said. "If you want to."

He was quiet so long she thought he would not answer.

"I was seven," he said. "She packed a suitcase. She kissed my forehead. She said she would come back."

He paused.

"I waited at the window for three hours. She never came back."

Lira's chest ached.

"My father said women leave. That's what they do. He was drunk when he said it. He was always drunk after she left."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"No. She sent letters sometimes. I never opened them. They're in the locked drawer. With the whiskey bottle."

"Why do you keep them?"

He thought about it. Long and hard.

"Because throwing them away feels like admitting she's really gone. Like admitting I really don't matter to her."

Lira reached over. She took his hand.

"You matter," she said.

He looked at their hands. Her small fingers wrapped around his.

"To who?" he asked.

"To me."

---

They sat like that for a long time. Hand in hand. City lights below.

When they finally went inside, he stopped at her door.

"Lira."

She turned.

"Thank you. For today. For everything."

She smiled. "Goodnight, Kael."

"Goodnight."

She went into her room. She did not sleep for a long time.

Neither did he.

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. Taught 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?"

"No one has ever listened to me like that. Paid attention to what I want."

He looked at her. Serious. Direct.

"I pay attention to everything about you," he said.

She crossed the room. She put her arms around him. Hugged him tight.

He went rigid. Then slowly, carefully, he hugged her back.

They stood like that for a long time. In the kitchen. Holding each other.

When she finally pulled back, his eyes were wet.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you," he said. "For seeing me."

---

That night, she could not sleep again.

She went to the kitchen. He was there. In the dark. Waiting.

They sat together. Shoulders touching. Hands close but not quite touching.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone," she said.

He thought about it.

"When my father died," he said, "I felt relief. Not just sadness. Relief. Like I could finally breathe."

He paused.

"I've never said that out loud. It feels terrible to say."

She took his hand.

"It's not terrible," she said. "He hurt you. You're allowed to feel relief."

He looked at their hands. Then at her.

"How do you always know the right thing to say?"

"I don't. I just say what I feel."

"That's why it's right."

They sat in the dark. Holding hands. Not speaking.

When she finally went to bed, she felt something new.

Not just hope. Not just happiness.

Something deeper. Something that scared her.

She was falling in love with him.