A Love Meant to Be

Walls Between Us

Rain had poured down like it was sent by fate itself. Marla and Ethan, soaked and shivering, had stood on the quiet London street, eyes locked, breath uneven, and then the kiss happened. A kiss that wasn't polite or expected. It was fire, electricity, and something dangerously addictive.

But now, a new morning has arrived. With it comes the truth that kisses don't erase fear. They only make the walls louder.

Marla woke to the soft patter of rain against her bedroom window. The storm had carried on through the night, the streets still glistening with puddles and half-light. She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers.

The kiss.

She pressed her lips together, almost embarrassed by the way her body still hummed from it. Ethan's mouth had been warm, insistent yet gentle, like he'd been waiting his whole life for that exact moment. And for a few seconds, she had let herself believe in it.

But belief was dangerous.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message. From him.

Morning, troublemaker. Survived the storm?

She smiled despite herself. The man had a way with words. He wasn't just texting, he was nudging at the defences she'd built brick by brick.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she finally replied:

Barely. My shoes didn't make it.

Three dots. Then his answer:

Guess I'll have to replace them. Over coffee? Today?

Marla shut her eyes, exhaling. Coffee. Again. Coffee had started all this, spilt on her blouse, then spilt into her life. A part of her wanted to say yes without hesitation, but another part, the louder, colder part, tightened her chest.

She typed:

We'll see.

And tossed the phone aside like it had personally offended her.

The café was busy when she arrived anyway. Because, of course, she said yes. Eventually. After pacing her living room for thirty minutes and telling herself she wouldn't go.

Ethan was already there, waiting at a corner table by the window. His hair was slightly damp, and his shirt rolled at the sleeves. He looked like the kind of man who made even waiting look cinematic.

"You're late," he teased as she slipped into the seat across from him.

"You're too early," she shot back, pulling her coat tighter.

The banter settled them, but only for a moment. When his eyes met hers, everything slowed again. That kiss was between them, unspoken but undeniable.

"So," Ethan said, leaning forward, "are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" she replied, sipping her latte like it was a shield.

"The part where you kissed me back," he said.

Her cheeks flushed. "That was... situational. Rain. Mood. Temporary insanity."

He laughed, and it annoyed her how much she liked the sound. "Right. Temporary insanity that lasted, what, twenty whole seconds?"

Marla placed her cup down, meeting his gaze with more steel than she felt. "Ethan, let's not make this a thing. It was a moment, and moments don't mean anything."

The smile faded slightly from his lips. "They mean something if you let them."

And there it was, the c***k in her armour. The dangerous part. The part where she wanted to believe him.

She shook her head, trying to steer them away. "You don't even know me."

"Then let me," he said simply. No games. Just sincerity.

The problem was that sincerity scared her more than any lie could.

Over the next week, Ethan tried. And Marla resisted.

He texted. She answered, sometimes.

He called. She let it ring, then called back hours later, pretending to be busy.

He invited her to a film, to dinner, even just a walk. She gave excuses. Always polite, never harsh. But excuses are all the same.

Her walls were firm, but he was patient. He didn't push. He teased, joked, and sent her random memes that made her laugh in spite of herself. Little by little, he slipped through cracks she didn't know were showing.

One evening, she opened her mailbox to find a small envelope. Inside, a handwritten note in Ethan's scrawled handwriting:

Marla, stop running from something you clearly want. Coffee tomorrow. No excuses.

Her stomach twisted. How dare he? And yet... how dare he be right?

The next day, she showed up. Not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't stop herself.

He was waiting, leaning against the lamppost outside the café like some hero from a cheesy romance novel. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

"You're insufferable," she said.

"You're late. Again," he countered.

Inside, they sat. And for once, silence stretched between them. Marla fidgeted, pulling at her sleeve. Ethan just watched her, calm, steady.

Finally, he spoke. "What are you so afraid of?"

The words hit harder than she expected. "I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are. Every time I get close, you pull back. Every time it feels real, you find a wall to hide behind. I'm not asking for everything, Marla. I'm just asking for something."

Her throat tightened. Memories surged, the last relationship that ended in betrayal, the nights she spent convincing herself love wasn't worth the risk. She wanted to tell him all of it, but vulnerability felt like drowning.

So she did what she always did. She joked. "Wow, you really practice these speeches in the mirror, don't you?"

But Ethan didn't laugh. He leaned closer, voice lower. "I'm not joking. And I'm not leaving. So you're going to have to decide, keep pushing me away, or let me in."

Marla's heart raced. Her instinct screamed to run. But something deeper, quieter, whispered: stay.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She kept replaying his words. His eyes. The way he made her laugh without trying. The way that kiss in the rain still burned like it had just happened.

And she hated herself for wanting more.

At 2 a.m., she opened her notes app and typed:

Ethan, you scare me. Not because of who you are, but because of what I feel. I don't want to want you. But I do.

Her thumb hovered over. "Send." Then she deleted it.

Two days later, she saw him again by accident. Or maybe fate again. At the farmer's market, surrounded by chatter and colours and fresh bread smells.

He spotted her first. "Marla!"

She froze, halfway to ducking behind a stall of sunflowers. But it was too late. He was already walking toward her.

"You're avoiding me," he said plainly.

"I'm not."

"You are."

She sighed. "Ethan -"

"No," he cut in, his tone firmer than before. "No more excuses. Tell me what's really going on. Because if this is just a game to you, I'll walk away right now."

The words hit her stomach like a stone. Walk away. The one thing she didn't want him to do, even if she couldn't admit it.

She stared at him, mouth dry, mind racing.

And then,

A voice behind them called his name. A woman's voice.

They both turned.

A tall brunette approached, smiling like she belonged in his world. "Ethan! There you are." She slipped her arm through his without hesitation.

Marla's chest clenched. Who was she?

Ethan looked startled, glancing between them. "Uh-Marla, this is -"

But Marla didn't wait to hear. She walked away, fast, her heart pounding, walls higher than ever.

Back at home, Marla locked the door and leaned against it, breath shaking. Her phone buzzed again, Ethan's name flashing across the screen.

She didn't answer.

Because right now, she wasn't sure if the real danger was falling for him... or finding out she already had.