Maya woke up to the smell of coffee and the soft hum of the city below. She stretched, her body still sore from the emotional weight of the past week, but the softness of Kian's hand resting on her side brought her some comfort. It was an odd sort of peace, fragile but real. The storm inside her had calmed, but she knew it wasn't over. Not yet.
Kian was already up, a steaming mug in his hands as he stared out the window. He had always been someone who lived between moments—present, but somehow distant. Maya didn't know if that was just him or if it was a part of the life he kept hidden.
"Good morning," she said quietly, brushing the sleep from her eyes.
He turned, offering her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Morning, love. You sleep okay?"
She nodded, slipping out of bed and walking toward him. The space between them felt wider now, but also more manageable. They weren't perfect, but they were trying.
"I was thinking about therapy," Kian said, his voice hesitant. "It's not just about me, Maya. It's about us. If we want this to work, we have to understand ourselves first."
Maya paused, her hand hovering over the coffee mug in front of her. "I agree," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to feel like I'm walking through life in a fog anymore. I want clarity. For both of us."
Kian's gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw the man she fell in love with, the one who hadn't yet been consumed by his past. He reached for her, pulling her into a brief hug, a gesture that spoke more than words could. The hug lingered for a second too long, like they both needed it, needed to know they were still tethered to each other despite the weight of all the things unsaid.
They both knew it wasn't going to be easy. Healing wasn't something you could do overnight, especially when you were piecing together a relationship that had been fractured by truths that should have been spoken sooner.
Later that day, Maya met Zara for lunch at their favorite sushi place. The air was thick with tension, the weight of everything still hanging between her and Kian, but the familiarity of Zara's presence brought some relief.
"You look better," Zara said, eyeing Maya with a critical look. "You've got that I'm gonna figure it out glow again. What's going on?"
Maya smiled weakly. "I don't know if I've figured it out, but... we're trying. Kian and I. He's agreed to therapy. He's finally ready to face some of the things that we've both been avoiding."
Zara nodded, her expression serious. "You're not trying to save him, are you?"
Maya stopped, the chopsticks frozen in mid-air. "What do you mean?"
"You know," Zara continued, her voice low. "Kian has a lot of baggage. And he's asking you to help him carry it. You can't bear that weight forever, Maya. You need to decide where your own line is. No one can ask you to heal them."
Maya thought about that, her stomach twisting. "I don't think I'm trying to save him," she replied slowly. "I just... I want us to be okay. Together. But I guess I didn't realize how much of myself I've been putting on hold, too."
Zara leaned back, eyes sharp. "You're not his therapist, Maya. You're his partner. And there's a difference. You need to be careful not to lose yourself in the process."
Maya's heart skipped. She knew Zara was right. But the thing was, she didn't know how to draw the line. She loved Kian, loved him more than she could express, but she couldn't ignore the growing unease. Was she holding on to a dream? Was she sacrificing pieces of herself for a love that wasn't yet healed?
"I don't know if I can do it," Maya admitted, the weight of her vulnerability hanging heavy in her words. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to carry all this. I've been trying so hard, but it feels like... like I'm drowning."
Zara reached across the table, her hand finding Maya's in a firm grip. "You don't have to do it alone," she said quietly. "You've got me. And you've got you. Don't forget that."
Maya squeezed Zara's hand, grateful for the clarity that her friend always brought, even in moments of doubt.
When Maya returned home, Kian was sitting on the couch, a notebook in his lap. The soft light of late afternoon spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the floor.
"Hey," she said, crossing the room toward him. She paused for a moment, noticing the way his eyes seemed tired, like the weight of everything was pressing down on him too.
"Hey," he replied softly, looking up at her. There was an unreadable expression on his face, a mix of guilt and determination. "I was thinking. About Ivan. About everything."
Maya nodded, sitting down next to him. "What about?"
"I don't want you to feel like you have to compete with him," Kian said quietly, staring at the floor. "I know I've made you feel that way. But the truth is, it's not you I'm afraid of. It's the parts of me I'm still running from. Parts that I never wanted you to see."
Maya's heart tightened. "Kian... you don't have to carry that alone."
He shook his head, his fingers tightening around the notebook in his hands. "I do. I need to face all of it. But I can't do it if I keep hiding from the truth. I keep pushing you away, and I don't know how to stop."
She placed her hand on his, feeling the tremble in his fingers. "We can do it together," she said, her voice steady despite the doubt swirling in her chest. "But you have to let me in, Kian. I can't keep standing on the outside, wondering what part of you I'm missing."
He nodded, his eyes dark with guilt. "I'll try. I will. But I need you to promise me something, too."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"That you won't lose yourself in this. You're not my savior, Maya. You're my equal. Promise me you'll take care of yourself, too."
The words hit her hard. It was what Zara had said earlier. But hearing it from Kian felt different—like a reminder that she was still allowed to live her own life, even as she fought to save their relationship.
"I promise," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, kissing her forehead gently, and for a moment, Maya allowed herself to believe that things might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, the love they had was strong enough to withstand the storm.