Irony of Karma

Steps Toward Trust

Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he had been so patient with a woman. Normally, things happened fast: a glance across a bar, a witty line, a drink or two, and then numbers exchanged. Sometimes he didn’t even bother with names. But with Maya, everything was slower. Deliberate. He found himself waiting for her silences, respecting the pauses she left between answers, and strangely, enjoying it.

The next day, he lingered by the porch again. He timed it right so he could catch her on her way home. The first time could have been coincidence. The second time, not so much. By the third, it had become a pattern.

“Heading back already?” he asked casually, falling into step beside her.

She glanced at him with mild suspicion but didn’t push him away. “Shift’s over. That’s all.”

“Then I guess I’m just lucky with timing.” He flashed a grin that usually melted hearts. Maya only rolled her eyes faintly, though her lips curved upward ever so slightly. That hint of amusement was enough to keep him coming back.

These walks became their unspoken routine. He never pressed her with questions about her life, never tried to dominate the conversation. Instead, he spoke lightly about the city from his perspective as a visitor: the markets he’d wandered into, the street musicians he’d stopped to watch, the oddities that amused him. Maya, slowly, began to respond in fragments.

“That market’s been there since I was a child,” she’d mention. Or: “The musicians change, but the old man with the violin is always there.”

Her voice was soft, like she was unused to speaking about herself, but each detail she shared was a treasure. Ethan absorbed them, storing them like rare coins.

By the second week of this routine, they had moved beyond silence. He learned she lived with her younger sister, who was still in school. Her parents were gone—she didn’t elaborate, and Ethan didn’t pry. He learned she liked tea more than coffee, despite working in a coffee shop, and that she read mystery novels during her breaks.

In turn, Ethan offered glimpses of his own life, though filtered. He told her about traveling, about the thrill of trading forex and the freedom it gave him to live anywhere. He didn’t flaunt the wealth, though—he didn’t want her to see him as another arrogant foreigner. With Maya, he wanted to be more than that.

One evening, as they reached her doorstep, she paused. “Why do you keep walking with me?” she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing.

Ethan stopped, too, caught off guard by the directness. For a moment, he thought of giving her the easy answer—the charming deflection. But something in her gaze demanded honesty.

“Because I like being around you,” he admitted. “I can’t explain it better than that. You’re… different from what I’m used to.”

Maya studied him for a long second, as though weighing the truth of his words. Then she nodded, almost imperceptibly, before disappearing inside.

That night, Ethan lay awake replaying her question, her look. For a man who had once lived on shallow thrills, it unsettled him how deeply her small gestures affected him. He didn’t just want to win her over; he wanted her trust.

The chance came sooner than expected. One afternoon, when he stepped into the café, Maya was visibly irritated. He caught sight of her co-worker—the wiry, cotton-haired guy—teasing her about something. She brushed it off, but Ethan noticed the faint tightness in her jaw. When her shift ended earlier than usual, Ethan was waiting outside.

“Rough day?” he asked gently.

She sighed, walking briskly. “It’s nothing. Just work.”

“Sometimes a walk helps,” he said, keeping pace with her. “Or better—sometimes a distraction.”

Her brows arched. “And you’re offering one?”

“Depends. Will you let me?”

To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She slowed her pace, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Where?”

Ethan grinned. “Not far. Just around the square. You’ll be home in ten minutes longer than usual.”

She hesitated, then nodded. That tiny yes felt like victory.

They wandered into a small plaza, where a fountain sparkled under the afternoon sun. A street vendor sold roasted chestnuts nearby, the smell warm and nutty in the air. Ethan bought two packets and handed one to her.

“Do you always do this?” she asked, half amused, half curious.

“What—buy food for beautiful women?” He smirked, then softened his tone. “No. I mean, yes, I’ve gone out with people before. But not like this. Not walking, not chestnuts, not…” He gestured vaguely. “Not simple.”

Maya laughed—a sound so light it caught him off guard. “Simple isn’t bad.”

“No,” Ethan agreed, staring at her more than at the fountain. “It’s the best thing I’ve had in years.”

For the first time, she didn’t look away from his gaze. The moment stretched between them, fragile yet powerful.

Over the following days, their bond deepened. Ethan didn’t push for more, though every instinct told him to. He had women waiting back home, numbers he could dial at a whim, but for once, he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Maya. And so he waited.

It was on the seventh walk home—nearly a month since they first started talking—that he stopped at her door and finally asked.

“Maya,” he said, voice low but steady. “Will you have dinner with me? Not just a walk, not just coffee. A proper dinner. Anywhere you like.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise. For a heartbeat, he thought she’d refuse again. But then her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled faintly. “All right. Dinner.”

Ethan exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night,” she confirmed.

When she disappeared into her building, Ethan stood on the street for a long time, grinning like a fool. For the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking about winning or losing. He was thinking about what it meant to be chosen.