The Night I Lost Everything

Chapter Two

Three months before my mother died, I met Aiden Hayes.

Those were the best moments of my life—Atleast I thought, but nothing about those moments warned me.

No music, no sudden stillness or even a sign that my life was about to split into a before and after. Just coffee, spilled coffee, and a stranger who looked like he had never had to worry about anything a day in his life.

“Hey! Watch it.”

The voice was irritated but low and calm. There was an edge to it that made my stomach drop instantly.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” I froze in place, staring in absolute horror at the dark stain spreading across his white shirt. Not just any shirt—a perfect white shirt. Crisp and clean. The kind that probably cost more than my entire week’s budget.

Great. Just great.

I scrambled for napkins, nearly knocking the cup over again in my panic.

“I didn’t see you—I mean, I did see you but I didn’t think you’d stop there—I mean—” I stopped, cringing at myself because I was rambling badly. Why was I talking so much?

Just apologize and go, Ellie. I thought to myself.

But he was just… staring at me. Not looking at the stain anymore, just me. Not looking angry, not yelling, just watching but carefully like he was trying to figure me out.

“I can replace it,” I rushed out, thrusting the napkins toward him like they could solve anything. “Not the exact same one, obviously—but something close?” He didn’t take them immediately.

Instead, one of his eyebrows lifted slightly, studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“You can?” he asked. His tone wasn’t rude or mocking, but it wasn’t warm either. Just… neutral which somehow made me more nervous.

“I mean—” I let out a nervous breath. “I’ll try?”

A small exhale escaped him, almost like he was holding back a smile. Then he reached out and took the napkins.

“It’s fine,” he said simply. I blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You’re not angry?” “Should I be?” “No,” I said quickly. “Please don’t be.”

That earned me a small smile. And that smile—I wish I could say it didn’t affect me but it did, in a quiet, unexpected way. A lot more than I was comfortable with.

“Relax,” he added, dabbing lightly at his shirt. “It’s just coffee.”

Just coffee. Right.

Easy for him to say. Everything about him looked really simple but screamed expensive. From the watch on his wrist to the way he stood, like he belonged anywhere he stepped into. Meanwhile, I was mentally calculating how many extra shifts or hours I’d need to work if he suddenly changed his mind and decided I owed him.

“I still feel bad,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.” His gaze lingered on me again. That same thoughtful and careful look, like he was seeing more than I was saying. “What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

I hesitated for a second.

Why? I didn’t know.

Maybe because something about him felt… important. Not safe, not dangerous. Just… significant.

“Ellie,” I said finally.

“Aiden.”

The name settled somewhere in my chest before I could stop it.

I ignored it.

“Well…nice to meet you. Sorry again,” I said, stepping back slightly.

“You too,” he replied, like it wasn’t the worst first impression ever.

There was a brief, awkward silence that made me uncomfortable.

I shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “I should go,” I said “I have a class now.”

“Same.”

I blinked. “You’re a student here?”

“You sound surprised.” “I just didn’t expect—” I stopped myself. Didn’t expect someone like you here. Yeah, that would’ve sounded bad.

“Didn’t expect what?” he pressed.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

A small, knowing smile curved his lips.

“Accounting,” I added awkwardly, gesturing vaguely towards the direction of my department.

“Economics.” Of course, that fit him too well.

“See you around, Ellie.”

I nodded, already turning away before I could say anything else embarrassing. “Yeah… see you.”

I should have forgotten him.

It should have been one of those random, slightly embarrassing, awkward encounters with a stranger I would probably never see again, but that didn’t happen. Life doesn't work like that, not when it wants to ruin you properly.

I saw him again the next day. And the day after that.

At first, it felt like a coincidence.

Same café, same time, different tables.

A calm presence that somehow made everything around him feel quieter.

I noticed him immediately. And I hated that I noticed him.

I ordered my drink quickly, pretending not to look in his direction. But I felt it. That subtle awareness.

Like he knew I was there too.

By the third day, it stopped feeling like coincidence, it became something else. Something intentional.

“Are you following me?” I asked one afternoon, dropping my bag onto the seat across from him.

He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Are you hoping I am?”

I scoffed, sliding into the chair anyway.

“Please.” That made him glance up. “And yet you sat down.”

I opened my mouth then closed it. Okay. That was fair.

“I just didn’t want to stand awkwardly somewhere else,” I defended. “Of course.” There was amusement in his voice now, subtle but definitely there. And for some reason… I didn’t hate it.

After that, it became routine. Not planned, not discussed, just… natural.

We started sitting together. Days turned into conversations. Short at first, talking about nothing. Just Classes, professors and the terrible coffee. Then slowly…we started talking about something.

I learned that he didn’t like talking about his family.

That he avoided certain questions with ease.

That he listened more than he spoke, and when he did speak—it mattered.

He learned that I worked part-time and I hated asking for help.

That I always checked my phone between conversations.

“You always look at your phone,” he said one afternoon. I froze. “I don’t.” “You do.”

I frowned slightly. “You’ve been observing me?” “I notice things.” That didn’t help.

“What am I checking for?” he added.

I hesitated, then sighed. “My mom.”

His expression changed. Not dramatically, just softer.

“She’s sick,” I added quietly.

He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush to speak. He just listened.

“Cancer,” I said. The word felt heavier every time I said it. Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time around. It felt… understood.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

And somehow, it didn’t sound like the usual sympathy people gave. It sounded real.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

That was the moment everything changed.

He stopped being just the guy from the café and I stopped being just the girl who spilled coffee on him.

We became… something else- something I didn’t have a name for yet.

Days turned into longer conversations, longer conversations turned into shared walks after class, shared walks turned into quiet moments where neither of us felt the need to talk and that was new for me, because my life was never quiet.

There was always something— bills, hospital visits, fear, but with him, things felt… lighter.

“You don’t talk about your family,” I said one evening as we walked slowly across campus.

He didn’t respond immediately. Then—“There’s not much to say.”

“That’s not true.” “It is.”

I glanced at him.

His jaw was slightly tense now. Conversation closed.

I understood that because I had my own things I didn’t like talking about too. So I let it go.

But something about him didn’t match. The way he dressed, the way he spoke and the way he avoided certain topics. It didn’t add up, and I knew it. I just didn’t push.

Instead, I let myself get used to him-which was a mistake, a big one, because getting used to Aiden Hayes felt like stepping into something you wouldn’t be able to walk away from easily.

One evening, we sat in the café longer than usual, neither of us in a hurry to leave.

“Why Dayton?” I asked suddenly.

He looked up.

“What?” “You don’t feel like someone who just ends up here.”

There was a slight pause, then he leaned back slightly.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be where I was expected to be.”

That answer told me more than anything else he had said. “You’re running from something,” I said quietly. “Or toward something,” he corrected. “Which one is it?”

His eyes met mine.

For a second—just a second—it felt like he might actually answer. Then he looked away.

“Does it matter?”

Maybe not. But it felt like it did. I didn’t realize it then, but that moment—that was the beginning of everything.

Because I thought I met a boy who was running away from his past…

I didn’t know I had just met the man who would become mine and then pretend I never existed.