Maya’s POV
By the time Maya got home that Friday night, it was almost 9:30 PM.
She let the door close behind her with a soft click and just stood there for a second — silent, still, and spent. Her bag dropped to the floor. Her shoes came off with a weak kick. And for the first time in days, she let herself exhale.
She was home.
The house was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the fridge and the faint clink of Jamie’s spoon from the kitchen. He looked up from a bowl of instant noodles, eyes sleepy but happy.
“Hey,” he greeted with a tired grin. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” she mumbled, crossing the room to press a kiss to the top of his head. “How was your day?”
“Same as usual,” he replied. “Ms. Janice dropped off lasagna. It’s in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
Her chest warmed a little
