STARTING AGAIN
506 Words
Starting Again
Ava stood in Ethan’s apartment like she was seeing it for the first time.It hadn’t changed much.A few more books,new curtains,same worn sofa.But it smelled like him.Still felt like him.
He set her bag down,gave her space.
She walked around slowly,dragging her fingers across the shelf,the old picture frame that still held their faded photo.
He watched her carefully,like he was afraid to speak first.
“You kept this?”she asked,holding the frame.
“Couldn’t throw it away,”he said.“Didn’t know how.”
She nodded gently,then set it back.
“I’m not here to pick up where we left off,Ethan.That version of us died a long time ago.”
“I know.”
“I’m here to figure out who we are now.Not yesterday.Not five years ago.Now.”
He stepped closer,carefully.
“Then let’s start today.”
She took a deep breath.
“Starting means talking.About everything.”
“I’m ready.”
She sat on the couch.He sat across from her.
No touching.
No kissing.
Just words.
She began.
“I hated you for five years.I told everyone I didn’t care anymore.But the truth?I thought of you every day.Even when I tried not to.Especially when I tried not to.”
He nodded slowly.
“I hated myself.I hated how I hurt you.I hated the silence I forced between us.”
“You had a choice.”
“I made the wrong one.I won’t pretend otherwise.”
“Good.”
Silence stretched between them.
But it wasn’t cold.It was necessary.
Then he spoke.
“When my dad died,I thought I’d feel free.Instead I just felt guilty.I thought maybe if I fixed his mess,I’d earn some redemption.”
“Did you?”
“No.But I stopped running.”
She leaned forward,elbows on knees,hands clasped.
“What now?”
He shrugged.“We try to live.I learn to be honest.You learn to trust me again if you want to.”
She gave a dry smile.“That’ll take time.”
“I’m not in a hurry.I just want to do it right this time.”
The next week was quiet.Peaceful.Ava stayed with him but kept her own rhythm.Worked from cafés,read by the window,got used to the sound of his voice again.They talked every night.Small things.Big things.No lies.
They didn’t sleep together.Not yet.
They rebuilt the friendship first.
He cooked.She teased him for burning pasta.He left her notes on the mirror when she overslept.Small gestures.Bigger impact.
It wasn’t magical.It was real.
One night,she found him asleep on the couch,book on his chest,TV still on.She sat beside him,watching him breathe.
How many nights had she dreamed of this?
She leaned back against the armrest and whispered,“We’re not perfect.”
Eyes still closed,he replied,“Good.Perfect is boring.”
She laughed softly.
He opened his eyes.“You’re staying,aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But you want to.”
She looked at him.
“I want to try.”
“That’s enough.”
And for once,trying felt like more than enough.
- Writer
