CHAPTER 3 — THE SPACE HE REFUSES TO LEAVE
1115 Words
I stood outside my house for a long moment after Ares disappeared down the street. The gate was half-open, my hand still resting on it,ut I couldn’t move. My heartbeat hadn’t figured out how to slow down yet. It kept racing, like it hadn’t caught up with the present and was still back there—back when his fingers were tangled with mine, back when his forehead rested gently against mine.
The night air felt different. Softer, somehow. Too intimate.
I finally forced myself to step inside. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually settled around me like a blanket. But tonight, it felt unfamiliar. Too wide. Too empty. Like something—or someone—should have been here and wasn’t.
I dropped my bag on the floor beside my bed and sat down, palms steadying themselves on the mattress. Only then did I realize there was a slight tremor in my hands.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Something deeper than both—memory resurfacing, warmth returning to places I’d locked away.
I lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about him, but that was impossible. My thoughts kept circling back to the way he looked at me. Like he had already seen every version of me and still chose to stay.
My phone vibrated beside me.
The sight of his name did something to my chest.
Ares: Inside?
I exhaled.
Typed:
Me: Yes.
His reply came almost instantly.
Ares: Good. Sleep.
No flourish. No explanations. Just presence.
And somehow, that one word settled the chaos in my chest.
I slid under the covers and tried to sleep. I expected restlessness, but I didn’t expect the image of him to settle so easily behind my eyes. The slow way he spoke. The way he watched me without demanding anything. The warmth of his voice when he said “Just don’t shut me out.”
I must have fallen asleep thinking his name.
---
Morning came quietly.
Sunlight spilled through my curtains, the soft kind that doesn’t try to wake you—just nudges you gently toward consciousness. My body felt heavy, like I hadn’t truly rested, but my first thought was still him.
As if summoned, my phone lit up.
Ares: Good morning.
My heart stuttered—annoyingly, embarrassingly.
Me: Morning.
A pause.
Ares: Eat breakfast.
I blinked. A laugh nearly escaped.
Me: Ordering me around already?
Another pause. Then:
Ares: Call it concern.
My hand covered my mouth, heat rising uninvited to my cheeks.
Me: I’ll eat.
A few seconds passed.
Ares: Good. I’ll see you later.
My breath caught.
Me: Where?
No answer.
I tried to tell myself not to read into it. Not to let my mind spin. But the quiet he left behind felt intentional—as if he already knew I’d be thinking of him anyway.
---
On campus, the air was different.
Not the weather. Not the noise.
The people.
It didn’t take long to notice the looks. Long glances. Whispers that didn’t bother hiding themselves. Heads turning. Bodies shifting aside as if I had unknowingly walked into the spotlight.
I kept my gaze forward, trying to pretend none of it mattered.
That held up until I reached the library steps.
“Zaira!” Lena practically materialized in front of me, her voice much louder than necessary. She grabbed my wrist, eyes wide. “Who was that yesterday?”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on.” She leaned in dramatically. “Half the campus saw him. Tall. Quiet. Too attractive to be real. Standing at the entrance like he was waiting for someone specific.”
My throat tightened.
Lena watched my face—careful, but excited. “Didn’t say much. Didn’t have to. People were staring.”
I swallowed. “He’s just… someone I used to know.”
Her expression shifted. Curiosity turned into something more serious.
“The Villareal kind of ‘used to know’?”
That name hit different. Heavy. Sharp around the edges. You could feel the weight of their family history in the pause that followed.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t have to.
Lena’s grip on my arm tightened. “Zaira… be careful. People like them—”
A hush fell suddenly across the courtyard.
Every conversation near us dimmed. Footsteps slowed. Eyes shifted toward one direction without anyone needing to say his name.
I didn’t need to look.
I felt him before I saw him.
Ares walked through the corridor like the space already belonged to him. Not loud. Not arrogant. Just unshakably present. The kind of presence you don’t learn—you carry.
Students stepped aside without thinking. A quiet path opened in front of him, like the universe had already agreed to make space where he walked.
His eyes searched—until they found mine.
Something inside me stilled.
He approached us slowly—not rushed, not hesitant. Just sure.
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to.
“Good morning.” His voice was warm—quiet enough for just me.
“Morning,” I managed.
He glanced at Lena. “Friend?”
She nodded too fast. “Yes. Classmate. Study partner sometimes. I—”
He acknowledged her with a single nod. Calm. Respectful.
But it was clear where his focus remained.
Then his attention returned to me.
“I’ll wait for you after class,” he said.
My pulse stumbled.
I opened my mouth—whether to agree, refuse, or run, I wasn’t sure.
He stepped just slightly closer, voice low enough only I could hear.
“You’re free to say no,” he murmured. “But if you want distance, say it while looking at me.”
He knew.
He always knew.
I lifted my eyes.
His were steady. Unmoving. Patient.
And I—
I couldn’t say no.
“…I’ll see you after class,” I whispered.
Something softened in his expression—not victory. Not triumph. Just quiet relief.
He stepped back, hands in his pockets, and walked away. The hallway parted around him again, like gravity rearranged itself to make room.
Lena exhaled only when he was far enough not to hear.
“Zaira, I’m sorry, but there is no universe where that man is just someone you used to know.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
He wasn’t my past.
He was the part of my life I never stopped carrying—no matter how much distance tried to bury it.
And now?
He was back.
And he wasn’t asking for space.
He was taking his place in mine.
Softly.
Steadily.
Unmoving.
As if he had never left.
---
- Writer
