After Us

Seven Years Ago- Tangled Morning

“Mom?” Layla called as she stepped into the apartment; as soon as she spotted an empty teacup and crumbs of bread on the table, she was aware of the answer.

Dropping her bag on the couch, Layla pulled out her phone. The screen lit with a list of notifications blinking back at her: several texts from friends, her taxi receipt from last night, and, of course, six missed calls from her mom.

Seriously? She couldn’t wait to interrogate me in person? Layla shook her head, half-annoyed, half-guilty.

Her thumb hovered over the “Call Back” icon, but before she could press it, her phone buzzed against her palm.

It was an unsaved number, but she knew who it was.

With two seconds of hesitation—and a sharp intake of breath—she swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Her voice was softer than she intended.

“Hey.” His tone carried the relaxed charm she’d come to expect but also a hint of intent. “Did you get home okay?”

“Yeah. Just now, actually,” she replied, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for, uh, you know…everything last night. I probably wasn’t the easiest to deal with.”

“You’re joking, right? You were great.” A low chuckle travelled through the phone. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And, uh…I wasn’t bluffing about that date.”

“Oh God, what the hell does this high class want from me… again?”Layla wondered.

“You know, keeping silent won't save you either,“ he spoke again in a very playful tone. Layla could detect he emailed after saying that.

Then it hit her, clear as day—proof that Evan wasn’t the kind of guy to just let things slide. The confidence in his voice twisted her insides in a way that made her both nervous and strangely flattered.

“Oh,” she said, struggling to sound unfazed. “Right. The dinner?”

“Yeah. Don’t overthink it, Lay. Just one date. Let me show you what I’m all about,” he teased, the humour lightening his words but not softening their intent.

The nickname shouldn’t have made her smile as much as it did, but her lips curled anyway. “You think you’re pretty smooth, don’t you?”

“Not smooth”, he countered. “Just persistent.”

“Nope, nope, I don't think.” He paused. ”I know.”

“You know you are a proud boy, do you?

““Mmmhh, proud, maybe, but I’m also such a sweet boy…a rare one.”

Silence crept into the space between them, alive with everything she didn’t know how to say.

She bit her lip, torn between the giddy thrill pulsing through her veins and the endless lists waiting to clutter her mind—work, school, her crammed, unpredictable life.

“Just one date, Lay…. Wait, you haven't been on an actual date before.

She rolled her eyes. “Stoppp, not that.” She found herself biting her lower lip. “I still haven’t decided yet.”

“That’s fine. Take your time,” Evan said, and for a moment, she thought he might drop it there. But then he added, “How about this—I make it easy for you. I’ll come pick you up after work. What do you think?

Layla blinked in surprise. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“True,” he admitted with a laugh. “But that can be fixed in about two seconds.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but it lacked any real bite.

“Am I? Or am I just determined?” he teased. “Seriously though, Lay. One dinner. That’s all I’m asking. And you don’t even have to say yes until I’m standing outside your workplace. Fair?”

She laughed softly, despite herself. “That sounds completely unfair. You're trying to set me up.”

The word “set ip” in fact caught Evan off guard and made him burst into laughter.

“Okay, then we’ll make a deal,” he offered. “If you don’t want to go when I show up, you don’t even have to come out. No pressure.”

His voice softened slightly, and there was something about the way he said “no pressure” that made her feel, oddly enough, safe.

“You make it sound so easy,” she said, shaking her head, though she wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed or impressed by his persistence.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Evan replied. “You’re overthinking this, Lay. Trust me.”

His words hit somewhere deep, tugging at a part of her she wasn’t ready to name yet. Love? No, not that. Something else, though—something hard to pin down. But whatever it was, she realised she wanted more of it.

“Fine,” she said finally, the word escaping before she could overanalyse it. “But if I’m having second thoughts later, don’t get mad if I bail.”

“Deal,” he said, his satisfaction evident in his voice. “But I bet you won't be. So where am I picking you up?”

She sighed, half exasperated, half amused.

“I’ll share my location.“ This was all she could alter while she dropped details in the message box.

Layla works at a coffee shop all evenings after school, and this date thingy is definitely new to her.

But I mean, she has read many books about leaving comfort zones and all, and here she is trying to experiment with them in reality.

“The Daily Grind. Got it,” he said. “What time?

“Around eight,” she replied, biting back a smile.

“Perfect. See ya .”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, hanging up before he could say anything else.

For a moment, she stared at the phone in her lap. The conversation played on a loop in her mind: his confidence, his charm, the way he managed to make it feel like everything might actually be as simple as he claimed.He was smooth—too smooth.

Standing in the middle of her small apartment, surrounded by silence, Layla realised the call had left something behind—a lingering sense of possibility.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d said her name, like it was something rare, something worth holding onto. Whatever it was she felt for him—unknown, unnamable—it made her want to see this through.

A part of her still doubted her decision, but another part—a quieter, smaller, and undeniably curious part—couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when the clock struck eight.