Chapter Two: The Number He Left Behind
591 Words
Ariella stared at her phone for a full minute after she got home.
The screen was dark.
Silent.
Yet somehow, it felt louder than everything else in the room.
She dropped her bag on the chair and let herself sink onto the bed, exhaling slowly. It was ridiculous. She barely knew Ethan. One brief collision. A few exchanged words. Coffee—sometime.
So why did his name feel heavier than it should?
She unlocked her phone and opened her contacts.
Ethan.
No last name. Just that.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Don’t overthink it, she told herself.
It’s just coffee.
But she’d said that before. And last time, it had cost her more than she was ready to remember.
Ariella placed the phone face down and stood up, heading to the bathroom. Cold water against her face helped ground her. She stared at her reflection—brown eyes guarded, lips pressed into a careful line.
“You’re fine,” she whispered.
She had survived worse than a simple invitation.
Across the city, Ethan leaned against his kitchen counter, phone in hand, staring at the same contact.
Ariella.
He hadn’t expected her to say yes.
He especially hadn’t expected the way her smile lingered in his mind, soft and uncertain, like she wasn’t used to choosing herself. There had been hesitation in her eyes. A story there.
He knew that look well.
Ethan closed his eyes briefly, memories pressing at the edges of his thoughts. He pushed them away. The past had no place here.
Not now.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Ariella: Hi… this is Ariella.
His chest tightened before he could stop it.
Ethan: Hey. I was hoping you’d text.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Ariella: About that coffee… when were you thinking?
He smiled.
The café was small and warm, tucked between two busy streets. Ariella arrived ten minutes early, nerves humming beneath her calm expression. She chose a table near the window and wrapped her hands around her cup, pretending she wasn’t watching the door.
When Ethan walked in, she noticed immediately.
He wore a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he’d rushed. His eyes found hers, and something softened in his expression.
“Hey,” he said as he reached her table.
“Hi.”
They smiled. Again, that charged silence.
Coffee arrived. Conversation followed—easy at first. Work. The city. Small, safe topics. Ethan had a quiet humor that caught her off guard, and Ariella found herself laughing more than she expected.
But then—
“Can I ask you something?” Ethan said.
She tensed slightly. “Okay.”
“You seem like someone who’s been hurt.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
“That obvious?”
He shrugged gently. “Only to people who recognize it.”
The honesty in his voice made her look up. Really look at him.
“And you?” she asked. “What do you recognize?”
His gaze dropped to the table.
“Loss,” he said quietly.
The word settled between them.
Something fragile formed in that moment. Unspoken. Unnamed.
Dangerous.
Ariella knew she should pull back. Should laugh it off. Should change the subject.
Instead, she said, “Maybe we both need coffee more than we thought.”
He smiled—but there was something deeper in his eyes now.
Something unresolved.
Something that told her this wasn’t just a beginning.
It was a risk.
And Ariella wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to walk into it.
- Writer
