When We Collide

The Art Of Letting Someone In

The next morning began in the quietest way possible. The sun was only beginning to rise, a pale wash of gold stretching lazily across Aiden’s apartment floor. He sat at the edge of his bed tying his shoelaces, aware that he had barely slept. His mind had replayed everything from yesterday with a persistence he could not fight off. Elara’s smile in the garden. Her voice when she told him about her father. The trust she had offered him almost unintentionally.

He could still picture the way she looked at him, soft but tired, like someone who had been holding her breath for too long.

Aiden grabbed his camera bag and stepped outside. The morning air was cool, almost cold, but he preferred it that way. It woke him up. It grounded him. He walked to the studio with an unusual sense of anticipation, something he had not felt in a long time. Not excitement. Not hope. Something quieter, but warm.

When he arrived, the studio door was locked. That surprised him for a moment. Elara was usually early. He checked the time. Maybe she was running late. Maybe she needed a morning to herself. He stood outside for a moment, watching the soft light settle across the building.

Then he heard footsteps.

Elara approached from the sidewalk, holding a paper cup of coffee and trying to zip up her jacket at the same time. Her hair was slightly messy, like she had tied it up quickly. She froze when she saw him waiting there.

“You are early again,” she said, a small breathless laugh escaping her lips.

“So are you,” Aiden replied.

She shook her head. “No, I am actually late today.”

She was smiling, but there was something tired in her eyes. Her smile had effort in it. Aiden noticed. He did not mention it. She unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. The studio still smelled faintly of paint and paper and the cool trace of night air.

Elara set her coffee down and slid onto her stool. Aiden took his usual corner. The morning was quiet. Almost too quiet. She opened her sketchbook but did not draw. She just stared at the page, as if her thoughts were louder than anything she could put down.

“You okay?” Aiden asked gently.

She blinked, as though she had forgotten he was there. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say yes, but she hesitated.

“I had a rough night,” she said finally.

Aiden nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were fidgeting again, tracing along the edge of her sketchbook.

“My dad called,” she whispered.

Aiden waited, letting her take her time.

“He wants me to come home this weekend. He says he wants to fix things.” She took a breath. “But he has said that before. And every time, I go back, and nothing changes. He becomes strict all over again. Angry. Controlling. It always goes back to the same thing.”

Aiden leaned slightly forward. Not enough to crowd her, just enough to let her know he was listening.

“You do not have to go if it hurts you,” he said.

Elara’s eyes softened. She looked like someone who had been trying to convince herself of that but could not.

“I know,” she said. “But it feels wrong to ignore him. He is still my father.”

Aiden understood the conflict. The pull of loyalty, even when it cuts you. The weight of feeling responsible for someone else’s emotions. He had lived parts of that himself. He did not tell her yet. Maybe later. When she was ready to hear that they were more alike than she knew.

“What do you want to do?” Aiden asked quietly.

She looked up at him. Her expression wavered.

“I want to stay away,” she admitted, her voice soft but full of truth. “I want peace. I want space. I want to breathe without feeling like I am doing something wrong.”

Aiden exhaled through his nose. “Then that is what you should choose.”

She studied him then. A long, searching look that made Aiden’s chest feel strangely warm.

“How are you so calm?” she asked softly.

“If I am calm now, it is because I have learned what it feels like to not have peace,” he said. “I would rather not go back to that.”

Her eyes softened at his words. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For saying something honest.”

Aiden looked at her for a moment. She had no idea how rare that felt for him. How rarely he opened up at all. But with her, it felt natural. Almost easy. And that scared him in ways he did not know how to name.

Elara lifted her pencil slowly, then set it back down. She was distracted. Her thoughts were a tangled thread today, and the sketchbook was not loosening the knots.

Aiden stood and walked toward the window where the natural light was strongest. He snapped a quick photo of the morning lighting. A beam of sunlight caught across Elara’s face. She did not notice. She was lost in her thoughts.

He lowered the camera.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

She looked up and nodded.

He walked to her table and handed her the camera. “Look through the gallery.”

She scrolled through the photos. A quiet smile appeared when she came across the one she took yesterday.

“You said it would look nice,” she said.

“And I was right,” Aiden replied.

Elara continued scrolling until she reached the picture of the window he had just taken. Her eyes lingered on it.

“You see things differently,” she said.

“So do you,” he answered.

She shook her head slightly. “I do not think I see the world clearly. Not lately.”

Aiden leaned lightly against the table. “Maybe clarity does not mean seeing everything perfectly. Maybe it means seeing one thing clearly enough to hold on to.”

She looked at him then. Really looked. Her breath caught. There was something shifting between them again, subtle but undeniable.

“I like talking to you,” she said quietly.

“I like talking to you too.”

Elara set the camera down. Her fingers brushed against Aiden’s for a second. She pulled her hand back quickly, but Aiden had felt it. Warm. Brief. Electric in a quiet way.

She stood up and walked toward the back door that led to the garden.

“Come sit outside with me,” she said softly.

Aiden followed her. The garden was still damp with morning dew. The grass sparkled like it had been dusted with tiny diamonds. Elara sat on the low stone wall, hugging her knees lightly.

Aiden sat beside her, leaving a small space between them.

She breathed in the cool air and let her shoulders drop. “I wish my life felt as calm as this,” she murmured.

Aiden turned his head toward her. “Maybe it can.”

She shook her head. “Not with my dad the way he is.”

“Then set boundaries,” Aiden said. “Not because you want to punish him, but because you want to protect yourself.”

Elara picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I do not really know how to protect myself.”

Aiden hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I think you do,” he said. “You left when you needed to. You came here today even though your night was rough. You reached out and talked about something painful. That is strength, Elara. You may not see it, but it is there.”

Her eyes filled with emotion so suddenly that she looked away.

“Do not make me cry,” she whispered.

“I am not trying to.”

She laughed softly through her emotions. “I know.”

Aiden watched her quietly. The way her fingers brushed under her eye. The way she exhaled shakily and then steadied herself. She was beautiful, but not in the loud way people usually meant. She was beautiful in a way that made him want to sit with her in every version of her silence.

After a moment, she said, “You never talk about yourself.”

Aiden kept his eyes on the garden. “There is not much to say.”

“I do not believe that,” she replied gently. “You understand too much to have an empty story.”

Aiden swallowed. He could tell her about his past. The years of pressure. The expectations. The nights he questioned everything. But he was not ready yet.

“Maybe one day,” he said softly.

Her gaze softened. “I will wait.”

There was something about those words that settled in his chest. She was patient with him. She did not push. And he knew she needed patience just as much.

They sat in silence for a moment. Not uncomfortable silence. The kind that builds something invisible between two people.

Elara finally stood up and brushed dust from her jeans. “Come on,” she said. “You have pictures to take, and I need to work.”

Aiden followed her inside. The studio felt warmer now. Softer. Like the morning had cracked something open.

She paused halfway to her table and looked at him.

“Aiden?” she said quietly.

“Hm?”

She held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“I am really glad I met you.”

Aiden felt the words settle deep inside him, warm and real.

“I am glad I met you too,” he replied.

And for the first time in a long time, the day felt like it was beginning with something hopeful.

Something gentle.

Something that could grow.