Love After Loss

Love After Loss By Kinah Chapter One: 8:07AM The coffee machine died at 7:43AM. I know the exact time because I was staring at it, barefoot in my kitchen, holding the last slice of bread like it was a life jacket. The bread was stale. The coffee machine made a noise like a tired cat, then nothing. “Great,” I muttered. “Great start.” My phone said 7:46. Work started at 8:00. I shoved the bread in my mouth, grabbed my bag, and ran. Dress half-zipped. Hair half-tied. Mascara probably on my cheek. I smelled like panic and last night’s workload. Down the stairs. Keys? In my bag. Car key? In my hand. House key? Not in my hand. I froze with my hand on the car door. I didn’t lock the door. “Ah—no.” I sprinted back up. Two flights. Lungs burning. Locked the door, snatched the house key, and ran again. By the time I hit the car park, I was sweating through my blouse and I’d dropped my earrings somewhere between my kitchen and my car. Traffic was mild. My life wasn’t. 8:12. I slid into the office parking lot, heart pounding, bag half-open. I was sneaking through the glass doors, head down, praying no one saw me. “Late again.” My boss’s voice cut through the lobby like a knife. I stopped. Straightened up. Mr. Addison was standing there, arms folded, already done with me before I said a word. “Resume immediately,” he said. No ‘good morning’. No ‘are you okay?’ Just that. I wanted to say, “Sir, the workload yesterday kept me up till 2AM. That’s why I slept in. That’s why I’m late.” I wanted to say, “I’m tired.” But I didn’t. Because in that office, being tired was never an excuse. It was a weakness. So I nodded. Mumbled “Yes, sir.” And walked to my desk. My coffee was cold. My bread was gone. My house key was digging into my palm. And somewhere between locking my door and getting shouted at, I thought: Everything feels mild today. Too mild. Like the storm is still coming. Chapter Two: Still Waiting I got to my desk at 8:19. There were books everywhere. Piled on the chair, stacked on the side, leaning against my monitor like they’d been waiting for me all night. I’m not sure who left them. Probably Mr. Addison’s way of saying “welcome back to hell.” I was exhausted. My bones felt heavy. I dropped my bag, pulled out the first file, and tried to look like I had it together. But my hand kept going to my phone. Every two minutes. Unlock. Home screen. Lock. Unlock. Home screen. Lock. No message. No call. Four days. I told myself: If he doesn’t call, I don’t call him back. That was the rule. I made it after I got tired of being the only one chasing. So why was my chest still tight? Why did I still miss the sound of his voice? “Still waiting?” I jumped. “Ah! You scared me.” It was my friend. Madison. She knew me too well. “What am I talking about?” she said, sliding into the chair beside me. “You. Still checking your phone for Anthony.” My face got hot. “I’m not—” “Don’t lie,” Madison cut in. “I know you. Four days, Kyra. He hasn’t called. You haven’t called back. But you’re still hoping.” I exhaled hard. “You told me to stay away. So I did. He hasn’t returned the call.” “And?” Madison leaned closer. “I told you this guy does not love you.” “But—” My voice dropped. “He called me ‘my love’ the last time we spoke.” Madison gave me that look. The one that says be serious. “Are you sure this guy loves you, Kyra?” I didn’t answer. Because I wasn’t sure anymore. Before I could, the office went quiet. “Fiona!” Mr. Addison’s voice. Angry. Fiona walked in fast, arms full of files. She dumped them on my desk. Papers slid, one fell to the floor. “Mr. Addison asked me to hand this over to you,” she said, not even looking at me. “You must finish it before the end of today.” Something in me snapped. “For once, Fiona,” I stood up, “can you act like a proper human?” Her head snapped up. “Oh, really?” “I’m tired of the attitude,” I said. “You don’t have to like me, but you don’t have to throw work at me like I’m trash.” Fiona’s mouth opened, closed. Then she picked up her phone. “Fine. I’m going to report you to the boss.” “Don’t worry,” I said, too angry to care. “I don’t do trash.” She stormed out. I sat down hard. My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From being done. My phone buzzed. I grabbed it without looking. “Hello?” “Hi Fiona, this is QuickLoan Company. You’ve been pre-approved for a loan and a free bonus—” I ended the call. “I don’t want a loan!” It rang again. Same number. I answered, furious. “I said I don’t want—” “Hi my love.” My breath caught. “Hi my lovely Kyra. It’s me.” Anthony. I should’ve ended it. I should’ve said “four days late.” But instead I said, “Oh… hi.” “Don’t you want to talk to me?” he said, soft. “You forgot about me?” “No, I didn’t,” I said before I could stop myself. “Then you missed me, right?” “Yes.” “Good,” he said, like he won. “There’s this new store that opened down the street. I need you to get me something from there. You know the place?” “Yes.” “Okay. I’ll send you the list.” Click. He ended the call. And just like that, I was back in the game I said I’d quit. Chapter Three: The List The call ended. I was still holding my phone like it might ring again and explain itself. But it didn’t. Just silence. And a text notification 3 seconds later. Anthony: Store List 1. Black leather gloves. Size M. 2. That cologne from the new place. The one in the blue bottle. 3. Don’t be late. That was it. No “how was your day?” No “sorry for four days.” Just a shopping list. My stomach dropped. “Was that him?” Madison was still in the chair beside me. She’d heard my whole side of the call. I turned my phone to her without a word. She read it. Then she looked at me. Then she read it again, slower. “Kyra,” she said quietly. “He disappeared for four days… and this is what he calls you for?” I didn’t answer. Because my throat was tight. “Four days of nothing,” Madison went on. “And the first thing he says is ‘my love’ followed by ‘go to the store for me.’ That’s not love. That’s errands.” “It’s just—” I started. “It’s just what?” She cut me off, but not mean. Tired. “You told me to stay away. You said you were done being the one who chases. Was that a lie?” I stared at the files on my desk. Mr. Addison’s files. Due today. The ones Fiona threw at me like trash. “I can’t be late on these,” I whispered. “If I leave to run his errand, Mr. Addison will fire me.” “Exactly,” Madison said. “So why are your fingers hovering over ‘reply’?” Because he said my name like he meant it. Because four days of silence made me forget how bad the last time hurt. Because part of me still wanted to prove I was the one he’d pick. My phone buzzed again. Anthony: You got it? I looked up at Madison. She was watching me. Not judging. Just waiting to see who I’d choose. Me. Or him. Fiona walked past my desk then. She didn’t stop. She just smirked at the pile of files and kept walking. Reporting me to Mr. Addison, probably. I had two clocks in my head. One for work. One for Anthony. And I only had time for one. My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I could type: I’m busy. I could type: No. I could type: Why didn’t you call? Instead, I typed: Kyra: Okay. I hit send before I could delete it. Madison closed her eyes like it hurt her to watch. “Kyra…” I picked up my bag. The files could wait 30 minutes, right? I’d come back. I’d work late. I always did. But as I stood up, my phone lit up one more time. Not from Anthony. From Mr. Addison’s office line. Miss Smith. My office. Now. I froze with my bag on my shoulder. Madison looked at me and said the only thing that mattered: “So this is what ‘my love’ looks like now.”