Until We Meet Again.

Episode 3: The Space Between “Maybe” and “Yes

Episode 3: The Space Between “Maybe” and “Yes”

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Not because I was overthinking.

Okay… maybe a little.

But mostly because I couldn’t stop replaying everything.

The café. The rain. His stupid jokes. The way he said my name like it meant something more than just letters put together. The way I said “maybe” instead of walking away like I usually do.

That one word.

Maybe.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

But it did.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

Because “maybe” is dangerous.

“Maybe” turns into “what if.”

And “what if” turns into expectations.

And expectations… turn into disappointment.

I stared at my ceiling that night, my room dark except for the faint glow of my phone screen. Mara had sent me six messages already.

Mara:

YOU MET A GUY???

Mara:

IN A CAFÉ??? LIKE A MOVIE???

Mara:

LIA ANSWER ME BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE

I sighed.

Of course she would react like this.

I typed slowly.

Lia:

It wasn’t like that.

Almost instantly—

Mara:

That is EXACTLY how it was.

I didn’t reply after that.

Because I didn’t know how to explain something I didn’t even understand myself.

A stranger.

A conversation.

A feeling that didn’t fit anywhere inside my carefully structured life.

I turned my phone face down.

And still… I couldn’t sleep.

The next day felt normal.

Too normal.

Classes. Deadlines. Notes. People rushing past me in hallways like I was just another face they’d forget by tomorrow.

Everything was exactly how I liked it.

Controlled.

Predictable.

Safe.

And yet… I kept waiting.

Waiting for something I didn’t have a name for.

At lunch, I sat alone like always, scrolling through my notes but not really reading them.

That was when I felt it.

A vibration.

My phone.

For a second, my heart did something stupid.

Then I reminded myself.

It’s just Mara.

Or spam.

Or nothing.

But when I checked—

Unknown number.

My fingers paused.

I shouldn’t open it.

I really shouldn’t.

But I did.

Unknown:

If you’re wondering, I didn’t get lost after the café yesterday. Slightly disappointing, I know.

I froze.

And then—

I exhaled a laugh before I could stop myself.

Of course it was him.

Of course.

Aidan.

I stared at the message for a long time.

Too long.

Then I replied.

Lia:

I wasn’t wondering.

Seconds later—

Aidan:

That’s hurtful. I was thinking about you.

My stomach dropped.

Not in a romantic way.

In a confused, what-is-happening-to-my-life kind of way.

I typed again.

Lia:

Why do you have my number?

Aidan:

You left your notebook open yesterday when you packed up. I may or may not have memorized the number on your emergency contact page.

I sat up straighter.

Lia:

That’s creepy.

Aidan:

That’s resourceful.

I should’ve blocked him.

Normal people would’ve blocked him.

But instead—

I kept talking.

And that was my first mistake.

Days passed.

And somehow, Aidan didn’t disappear.

He became… consistent.

Not in a loud way.

Not in an overwhelming way.

Just small things.

Messages in the morning.

Random thoughts during the day.

Stupid jokes when I was stressed.

Aidan:

If productivity was a sport, I’d be disqualified for emotional damage.

Aidan:

Do you think coffee gets tired of people?

Aidan:

Serious question: if I disappear into a library, will I become smarter or just lost?

I didn’t know when it started—

But I started replying faster.

Shorter pauses.

Less resistance.

More honesty.

And I hated myself a little for it.

Because I knew what this was.

This was how it always started.

Slow.

Easy.

Deceptive.

One afternoon, I found myself back at the café.

I told myself it was coincidence.

That I just liked the place.

That I needed coffee.

That I was not here because I kept thinking maybe he would show up again.

I was wrong.

About everything.

Because he was there.

Sitting in the same corner.

Like he had been waiting.

And when he saw me—

he smiled.

Like I was the one he was expecting.

“Lia,” he said.

Just like that.

My name again.

Like it belonged to him too.

I stopped walking.

“Do you stalk people often?” I asked.

He pretended to think.

“Only the ones who leave impressions.”

“That sounds illegal.”

“Only slightly.”

I rolled my eyes but sat across from him anyway.

That should’ve been my second mistake.

“Do you always come here?” he asked.

“No.”

“Liar.”

I looked up at him.

He smiled.

“You have the energy of someone who has a routine and refuses to admit it.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“And you have the energy of someone who talks too much.”

“True,” he said proudly.

We sat in silence for a while after that.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… existing.

Outside, it was raining again.

Of course it was.

Rain seemed to follow him.

Or maybe it followed me.

I wasn’t sure anymore.

“I have a question,” he said suddenly.

I didn’t look up from my drink.

“Dangerous.”

“When was the last time you did something without planning it?”

I paused.

That question hit too close.

Too accurately.

I thought.

A long time.

Maybe never.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

He nodded slowly.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Is this where you tell me to change my life?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

I finally looked at him.

He leaned back in his chair.

“I think some people are just tired of chaos. I get it.”

That surprised me.

“You don’t sound like you get it.”

He smiled faintly.

“You’d be surprised.”

And there it was again.

That thing in his eyes.

That heaviness he hid too well.

I didn’t ask.

And he didn’t explain.

That night, I couldn’t focus.

My thesis sat open on my laptop, untouched.

My mind wasn’t cooperating.

Instead, I kept thinking about him.

About how he looked when he smiled.

About how he looked when he didn’t.

About how someone could feel both light and heavy at the same time.

And then—

my phone rang.

Not a text.

A call.

Aidan.

I hesitated.

Too long.

Then answered.

“…Hello?”

“Hi,” he said.

Just that.

Simple.

Close.

Alive.

I sat up.

“What do you want?”

There was a pause.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

That honesty again.

It always came too easily from him.

“I just didn’t want to be alone right now.”

Something in my chest tightened.

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because I understood that sentence more than I wanted to.

So I did the one thing I didn’t expect from myself.

I stayed on the line.

We didn’t talk about anything important.

Just random things.

Stupid things.

He told me about a dog he saw.

I told him about my professor who hated commas.

He laughed.

I almost forgot how to breathe properly when he did.

And somewhere between midnight and nothingness

I realized something terrifying.

I didn’t want the call to end.

Not yet.

Not soon.

Not at all.

But eventually, it did.

“I should sleep,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied.

A pause.

Then—

“Lia?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For answering.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I just whispered—

“Goodnight, Aidan.”

“Goodnight, Lia.”

And the call ended.

I stared at my phone long after.

Long after everything went silent again.

And I hated how empty it felt.

Because somehow—

without noticing when it happened—

a stranger had started becoming someone I looked forward to.

And that was dangerous.

Because people like Aidan…

don’t stay.

And people like me…

don’t let them in.

But for the first time in a long time—

I wasn’t sure which one I was anymore.

And that scared me the most.