The Visit
1689 Words
Calvin insisted on going downstairs himself.
“You stay,” he told Maya gently, pressing a hand to her shoulder. “I’ll get her.”
Maya was sitting on the edge of the couch, wrapped in a light blanket even though it wasn’t cold. Her body temperature had been unpredictable lately—either shivering or flushed without warning. She nodded, too tired to argue.
Through the window, New York City moved as it always did—indifferent, relentless. Car horns. Distant sirens. Footsteps echoing along the pavement. The world didn’t slow because her heart sometimes did.
Calvin straightened his shirt before leaving. She noticed that. The quick glance at his reflection in the darkened microwave door. The smoothing of his hair.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
But it did.
Minutes later, she heard laughter from the hallway outside the apartment door. Bright. Familiar. London warmth wrapped in a sound she hadn’t realized she missed this much.
Then the door opened.
And there she was.
Adela.
Same wide smile. Same composed posture. Same eyes that always seemed to look straight through pretense.
“Maya.”
That was all it took.
Maya stood too quickly and immediately felt the room tilt. Calvin caught her elbow before she could sway too far.
“Careful,” he murmured.
But Adela was already crossing the room.
They collided in a hug that was less graceful than it used to be. Maya’s arms were thinner. Weaker. But she held on tightly.
“You look…” Adela began, then stopped.
“Alive?” Maya offered softly.
Adela pulled back just enough to study her face. “Beautiful. Tired. But beautiful.”
Maya laughed, the sound fragile but real.
Calvin stood a step back, hands politely in his pockets. “Welcome to New York,” he said smoothly. “It’s really good to finally see you again.”
Adela smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for meeting me downstairs. That was kind.”
“Of course,” he replied easily. “Wouldn’t let you drag your suitcase up alone.”
He took the suitcase from her and carried it into the hallway toward the guest room.
Maya watched him.
He was different.
Attentive. Courteous. Gentle in his tone.
When he returned, he leaned slightly toward Maya. “Do you need water?”
She blinked. “I’m okay.”
“Sit down,” he insisted softly, guiding her back to the couch.
Adela noticed.
Her eyes flicked between them but she said nothing.
They helped her settle in. The guest room had been cleaned thoroughly that morning—Calvin had vacuumed twice and wiped down every surface. He had even bought fresh flowers.
“Wow,” Adela said lightly, glancing around. “You two have been busy.”
Calvin chuckled. “We try.”
Maya smiled faintly.
After Adela unpacked and freshened up, they gathered in the living room. Calvin insisted on making tea. He moved around the kitchen with exaggerated care, as though performing hospitality rather than simply offering it.
“Chamomile?” he asked.
“Perfect,” Adela replied.
Maya leaned back against the cushions, exhaustion and happiness tangling together inside her.
She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been.
When Calvin handed them their cups, he lingered for a moment. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he said. “But call me if you need anything.”
Anything.
Maya almost laughed at the word.
When he disappeared into the bedroom, the air shifted.
Adela set her tea down carefully and looked at her properly now.
“Maya.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation.
“I know,” Maya whispered.
“You’re thinner.”
“I know.”
“And your eyes…” Adela reached out, brushing her thumb gently beneath one of them. “You’ve been carrying too much.”
Maya’s throat tightened again. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then, unexpectedly, Maya smiled. “Do you remember The Losers?”
Adela laughed immediately. “Oh God.”
The sound filled the room like sunlight.
“The illusionist,” Adela continued. “That was you.”
Maya tilted her head. “It was not.”
“It absolutely was. You convinced half the school that Mr. Hargrove was secretly in a rock band.”
“He did wear leather jackets,” Maya protested weakly.
“And you made up that entire backstory about his ‘wild youth’ in Manchester.”
“It was believable.”
Adela shook her head, smiling fondly. “You were fearless.”
The word landed heavily.
Fearless.
Back then, Maya had walked through hallways with dramatic flair. She had invented stories on the spot. She had turned boredom into spectacle. She had made The Losers—an affectionate name for their small, eccentric friend group—feel like the center of the universe.
She had been light.
“I miss her,” Maya admitted quietly.
Adela didn’t respond immediately.
“She’s still there,” she said finally. “She’s just… tired.”
Maya looked down at her hands. They trembled slightly even at rest.
“Tell me about you,” she said, shifting the focus. “University. Liam.”
Adela leaned back into the couch, crossing her legs. “University is intense. Everyone’s competing for everything. But I like it. It feels purposeful.”
“And Liam?”
A softer expression crossed her face. “He’s in California.”
“California?”
“Exchange program. UCLA. One year.”
Maya’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s far.”
“It is.”
“How are you managing?”
Adela shrugged gently. “Video calls. Time zones. Occasional existential dread.”
Maya smiled faintly. “Do you miss him?”
“Of course I do.”
“And?”
“And nothing. We’re solid.”
The certainty in her voice was calm. Not defensive. Not strained.
Solid.
Maya felt something twist faintly in her chest, unrelated to her heart condition.
Calvin reappeared then, as if on cue.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Yes,” Adela replied warmly. “We’re just gossiping about our scandalous teenage years.”
Calvin grinned. “Should I be concerned?”
“Very,” Maya teased softly.
He walked over and kissed her temple.
It was gentle. Deliberate.
Adela watched without obvious reaction, but Maya felt it—an invisible assessment unfolding behind her friend’s steady gaze.
For the rest of the evening, Calvin hovered attentively. He refilled tea without being asked. Adjusted Maya’s blanket. Asked twice if she had taken her medication.
He even offered to cook dinner and insisted Maya stay seated.
“You’re the guest of honor,” he told her lightly.
Guest.
In her own home.
Still, she let herself be cared for.
They ate together at the small dining table. Conversation flowed more easily than it had in months. Adela asked Calvin about his job search, about New York, about his friends.
He answered smoothly. Politely. Thoughtfully.
Ryan in Seattle. Jason still in school.
“We’re all figuring it out,” he said with a self-aware laugh.
Later that night, when the city had quieted slightly and dishes were washed, Maya and Adela retreated to the living room again.
Calvin lingered nearby, working on his laptop but glancing up often.
“You don’t have to keep checking,” Maya told him gently.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am.”
He studied her for a second longer, then nodded.
When he finally went to bed, the apartment felt softer.
Adela leaned closer. “He’s very attentive.”
Maya hesitated.
“He’s trying,” she said.
“That’s good.”
“Yes.”
They fell into a quieter rhythm then, voices lowering as the night deepened.
Adela spoke about lectures and deadlines. About navigating adulthood without losing yourself. About missing home sometimes even when you’ve chosen to leave it.
Maya listened, absorbing the steadiness in her friend’s tone.
“I’ll be here for at least two weeks,” Adela said suddenly.
Maya blinked. “Two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to stay that long.”
“I want to.”
There it was again.
Choice.
“Also,” Adela added carefully, “my mum had… instructions.”
Maya stiffened slightly. “Instructions?”
“Nothing dramatic,” Adela reassured. “Medication schedules. Doctor follow-ups. Financial planning. She wants to review everything while I’m here.”
Maya exhaled slowly.
Tatiana.
Even from London, she was protecting her.
“She didn’t sound angry?” Maya asked quietly.
“No.”
“Disappointed?”
Adela’s gaze softened. “Concerned. That’s all.”
Maya looked away.
“I hate that I needed help again.”
Adela reached for her hand. “You needed care. That’s different.”
Maya’s eyes filled, but she blinked the tears back.
In the bedroom, Calvin shifted. The floorboards creaked as he moved.
“You’re not alone,” Adela continued softly. “Even when you try to be.”
The words settled gently into the cracks inside her.
For the first time in months, Maya felt something close to safety.
Not because money had arrived.
Not because rent was covered.
But because someone who knew her before everything—before illness, before sacrifice, before love became complicated—was sitting beside her.
“You were unstoppable once,” Adela said lightly. “The illusionist of The Losers.”
Maya smiled faintly. “Maybe I just got tired of performing.”
“Maybe,” Adela agreed. “Or maybe you started believing the illusion yourself.”
The room fell quiet.
Maya leaned her head against Adela’s shoulder.
Her heart beat unevenly.
But it beat.
And for now, that was enough.
Down the hallway, Calvin’s shadow moved beneath the bedroom door.
In the living room, two girls who had once ruled high school corridors with inside jokes and reckless imagination sat side by side again.
One rebuilding.
One steady.
And somewhere between them, the past and present held a fragile truce.
- Writer
