Rebuilding What We Left Behind

Nova’s POV The last thing I expected was to see him here, in the middle of the party, hand in hand with my best friend. My stomach twisted- not with jealousy, not exactly, but with a strange, painful tug I hadn’t felt in years. I wanted to look away, to disappear, but something kept me rooted, watching, my heart drumming as if it remembered what I had once thrown away. As if sensing my presence, Leigh’s eyes snap up and meet mine. A graceful smile spreads across her face and her eyes light up as she starts rushing towards me “Nova finally!” she exclaimed, hugging me tightly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you.” She pulled back just enough to study my face, smiling like she always did. For a second I almost forgot about Malakai- the one standing nearby, the one I once loved, the one who had moved on with Leigh And then our eyes met. His, across the room. That half smile I had spent months trying forget. That pull I had buried deep in the back of my chest. For a heartbeat, the laughter, the music, the conversations- all of it faded. I tried to look away but it felt like there was an invisible string pulling my eyes towards his. Leigh grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the snack table, chattering about her trip to LA: delayed flights, big deals closed, moments she wished I’d been there. I nodded, laughed at the right times, but my mind kept drifting back to Malakai. I tried to push it down. He was with Leigh now. He had moved on. That should have been enough. But a single look had already undone me. “You have to try this” Leigh insisted as she tugged me towards the dessert table. For a moment, the warmth of our friendship almost made me believe I could forget him entirely. Almost. But when I turned to grab a plate, he was there again, standing closer now, casually sipping a drink, pretending not to notice me. I knew better. He all always noticed. I needed air. The chatter, the music, the laughter—it was all closing in, suffocating me. I slipped away from the crowd, weaving past groups of people, past clusters of glasses clinking and conversations that didn’t matter. The balcony door was a blessing; the cool night air hit me like a shock, sharp and bracing. I closed my eyes, letting it settle my racing heart, trying to convince myself I could handle seeing Malakai tonight. “Deep breaths, Nova. You’ve got this,” I muttered under my breath, more to calm myself than anything else. I rested my hands on the railing, staring at the city lights below, wishing for a universe where this night didn’t feel like emotional landmines waiting to explode. The balcony door slides shut behind me and the music from inside dulls into a distant pulse. The night air hits my skin, cool and sharp, and I inhale like I’ve been underwater for too long. The city stretches below in gold and shadow. For a second, I let myself believe I’m alone. I’m not. “I was wondering how long you’d last in there.” His voice doesn’t startle me. That’s the worst part. Malakai leans against the railing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He looks the same. Taller somehow. Sharper around the edges. The soft boy who once stood in the rain telling me he wanted me has been refined into something steadier. Harder. “Needed air,” I say. He nods once. “You always do.” There’s something in the way he says it. Not mocking. Not warm either. Just factual. Like he’s catalogued my habits and filed them away under things I don’t reach for anymore. I step closer to the railing, leaving careful space between us. “You seemed comfortable in there.” “I’ve learned to be.” The answer lands heavier than it should. We stand in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel easy. Now it feels measured. Like we’re both calculating how much of ourselves to reveal. “You’ve been busy,” he says after a while. “So have you.” Another nod. Another pause. I glance at him. He’s looking out at the city, jaw set slightly tighter than necessary. “You ever regret it?” he asks suddenly. My heart stumbles. “Regret what?” He turns to look at me fully now. His expression is calm. Too calm. “Two years ago.” There it is. The night air feels thinner. “I made the choice I thought was right,” I say carefully. “For who?” The question isn’t sharp. It’s quiet. And that makes it worse. “For us,” I answer. A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s generous.” The resentment is subtle, but it’s there. In the way he doesn’t look away first. In the way his shoulders stay squared like he’s bracing for something. “I didn’t want to lose you,” I say. “And did you?” The question sits between us. Because we both know the answer isn’t simple. “We’re still here,” I say softly. “Yeah.” He exhales slowly. “We are.” But it doesn’t sound like victory. He pushes off the railing then, stepping just slightly closer. Not invading. Not retreating. Just enough that I can feel the heat of him through the cool air. “You know what the hardest part was?” he says. I shake my head. “Realizing you didn’t trust me to stay.” The words land like a quiet confession wrapped in accusation. “I trusted you,” I insist. He studies my face, searching. “You trusted your fear more.” That one hits. I open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out. Because maybe he’s not entirely wrong. He softens then, just a fraction. The resentment doesn’t disappear. It settles. Controlled. Contained. “I’m not angry,” he says, almost to himself. “I just… don’t know how to stand in front of you like that again.” Like what? Like a man who offered everything. The music inside swells as someone opens the balcony door briefly, then shuts it again. The world continues. Oblivious. “Malakai,” I whisper. He looks at me in a way that feels dangerously close to how he used to. “Timing,” he says quietly. “That’s what you called it, right?” I nod. He gives a small, almost tired smile. “I just hope it’s kinder this time.” And for the first time tonight, I realize something terrifying. He might not wait forever.