Chapter 4
1693 Words
That night, I didn’t dream about green coats or cafés. I dreamt of bookshelves, of Ryan laughing, of sunlight falling over half-painted walls. Of home slowly building itself around me.
The next few days passed quietly. I didn’t see the man again.
Merida came over, brought chips and homemade cookies. We watched a bad movie on my floor and gossiped like nothing had changed.
“You seem... lighter,” she said at one point, mouth full of chocolate.
“Lighter?” I raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. “Like your face doesn’t carry the whole world anymore.”
I smiled a little. “Maybe because the whole world finally fits in this place”
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “You deserve that, you know.”
“I don’t know if I believe that yet,” I admitted.
“Well, start practicing.”
We didn’t say anything after that. Just listened to the muffled dialogue on the screen and the soft hum of the city beyond my windows.
A few days later, as I was heading out to buy groceries, I spotted a familiar figure across the street.
Green coat. Same walk. Same posture.
He was standing outside the bookstore two blocks down. Looking through the window. Like he belonged there.
But this time, instead of panic, I just... watched him for a moment.
Then I crossed the street.
He didn’t look up.
I stood beside him, not too close. Still unsure. Still testing my own boundaries.
He finally turned, sensing me.
“I’m sorry,” he said before I could speak.
I blinked. “For... what?”
“For startling you the other day. In the café.”
“You knew I saw you?”
He gave a short nod. “You looked like you might recognize me.”
“Do I?”
He looked down at the ground, then back up.
“I used to know your mother.”
My stomach tightened.
Something shifted. Clicked. But not in a magical, fantasy way. Just in that real-life-oh kind of way.
“I’m—” he hesitated. “My name’s Ellis. I was… close with your mom. Before she met your dad.”
I stared at him, my voice stuck somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
“She never talked about that,” I said softly.
“She wouldn’t,” he replied. “I’m not here to cause problems. I was just… passing through. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Something about the way he said that made me believe him.
“I should go,” he added. “I just wanted to see her daughter once.”
And before I could ask anything else before I could think, he nodded once and walked away, hands in his pockets.
Leaving me standing there, with a grocery list in my hand and more questions than I knew how to carry.
I didn’t go grocery shopping after that.
I walked straight home, not even realizing I’d left my list behind until I saw the empty fridge hours later.
But food wasn’t the priority now.
I sat on my couch, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the quiet shelves and my reflection in the black TV screen.
"I used to know your mother.”
His voice echoed in my head, calm but heavy. Not dramatic. Not invasive. Just... honest.
Who was he? Really? What did “close” mean? A friend? An old flame?
Why didn’t my mom ever mention someone named Ellis?
I picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over her contact for a full minute. Then I locked the screen and put the phone face-down.
Not yet
That evening, Ryan texted.
Ryan [6:17 PM]:
Still alive?
I stared at it for a few seconds. Then typed.
Me [6:18 PM]:
Barely. I forgot to eat. Didn’t buy groceries.
Ryan [6:18 PM]:
Want me to bring food?
I didn’t answer right away.
Then...
Me [6:20 PM]:
You’re going to bring something weird, aren’t you?
Ryan [6:21 PM]:
Yes. I already bought it.
Be there in 15
I smiled despite myself. Then stood up, suddenly hyper-aware of the clutter around me. I straightened pillows, kicked a random sock under the couch, and pulled my hair into a loose ponytail. Why did I care what he saw?
The knock came earlier than expected.
“Open up, it's me,” he called, voice muffled through the door.
I let him in. He held up a paper bag like it contained treasure.
“What is it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Comfort food,” he said, stepping inside.
He pulled out two plastic containers of siomai rice from a takeout stall down the street. I grinned.
“Okay, this I approve.”
We sat on the floor again, side by side, eating from plastic spoons while the fan hummed in the background.
He didn’t ask questions right away. He never rushed.
After a few bites, he nudged me lightly with his elbow.
“Bad day?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He didn’t push.
We ate in silence for a while longer, until I found myself talking.
“I ran into someone earlier,” I said, staring at my rice. “A man named Ellis.”
Ryan glanced at me, waiting.
“He said he used to know my mom. Before she met my dad.”
“Whoa,” he said, softly. “Did she ever talk about him?”
“Never.”
He stayed quiet, giving me space to keep going if I wanted to.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” I admitted. “It’s not like she owes me every detail of her past, but… it felt strange. Like I was missing a chapter I didn’t know existed.”
He set down his food and leaned his arms on his knees.
“Maybe she had a reason not to tell you,” he said. “Or maybe she thought it didn’t matter anymore.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But now it kind of does.”
I pulled my knees up again, pressing my forehead to them.
“I feel like... if I ask her, I’m breaking something.”
Ryan’s voice was low. “Or maybe you’re fixing something.”
I looked up.
“I just think... families are like puzzles. We try so hard to make the picture look complete, even if we’re missing pieces. But sometimes we don’t realize those pieces weren’t lost.... they were just kept.”
That hit harder than I expected.
“Since when did you get all deep?” I asked, my voice cracking a little.
He smiled. “I had to balance out your sarcasm somehow.”
I laughed softly.
Then, after a pause, I said, “Thank you for coming.”
“You always thank me like it’s a big deal,” he said. “You know you can call me anytime, right?”
“Even at 2 AM?”
He looked at me seriously. “Especially at 2 AM.”
I didn’t say anything. Just looked at him.
And this time, he didn’t look away either.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward now—it was warm, filled with things we both understood but hadn’t said.
I leaned my head gently against his shoulder.
He didn’t move, he just sat there with me, steady and real, no pressure, no rush. Just him, just me, just a quiet moment that felt more honest than anything had in a while.
We stayed like that for a while me leaning on his shoulder, both of us not really saying anything.
Just… breathing.
Just letting the quiet settle without needing to fill it.
It felt good. Safe.
I wasn’t used to that kind of silence the kind that didn’t demand answers, just offered space.
Eventually, I pulled back gently, sitting up straight again.
“I should probably clean the mess,” I said, nodding toward the containers.
Ryan didn’t move. “Or you could not. Leave it for future you.”
I gave him a look. “Future me hates present me enough already.”
He chuckled, then slowly stood, gathering the trash. “Okay, compromise. I’ll throw this away if you promise to not overthink tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking for the impossible.”
“I believe in miracles.”
“Now you’re just lying.”
He grinned and walked to the kitchen. I followed a step behind.
As he rinsed his hands at the sink, he glanced at me over his shoulder.
“You gonna talk to her?”
I didn’t answer right away.
“I want to,” I said. “But I don’t know what I’m even asking for. Closure? Clarity? I’m scared it’ll just… mess things up.”
He turned the faucet off and leaned against the counter.
“Maybe it won’t,” he said gently. “Or maybe it will. But either way... not knowing might eat at you more.”
I sighed. “Why do you always sound like you have everything figured out?”
“I don’t,” he said, looking down. “I just... know what it’s like to keep things in too long.”
His voice had shifted again low, honest, tired in a way that didn’t come from lack of sleep.
I looked at him more closely.
“You okay?”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… someday, I’ll tell you stuff too.”
I nodded. “I’ll wait. For that.”
We stood there for another second.
Then he grabbed his hoodie from the back of the chair.
“I should go,” he said. “You need sleep. And maybe tomorrow, courage.”
I walked him to the door.
“Hey,” I said before he left. “Thanks again. For showing up.”
His hand paused on the doorknob.
“Anytime,” he said. “Always.”
And then he was gone.
Leaving me with a quiet apartment, a full heart, and the creeping realization that maybe, just maybe, I was falling for the boy I used to hate.
- Writer
