The weekend didn't arrive with excitement.
It arrived quietly.
Aria noticed it Friday evening, standing by her window as the campus slowly emptied out. Bags rolled across sidewalks. Laughter drifted from open doors. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere, doing something, meeting someone.
She stayed in.
Not because she had nowhere to go but because she didn't feel like forcing herself into motion. The week had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit. Emotions, conversations, silences she kept replaying in her head.
Her phone lay beside her on the bed.
Face down.
She didn't expect anything.
So when it buzzed, the sound startled her.
Liam:
Are you busy tomorrow evening?
She stared at the message longer than necessary.
Not because she didn't want to reply but because she wanted to reply carefully.
Aria:
Not really. Why?
There was a pause.
Then
Liam:
I was thinking we could go out. Nothing big. Just… time.
She exhaled slowly.
Time.
Not dinner.
Not a date.
Not plans layered with expectation.
Just time.
Aria:
Okay.
The reply came almost instantly.
Liam:
Good. I'll pick you up around seven?
She smiled before she could stop herself.
Saturday arrived softer than she expected.
She spent most of the day doing ordinary things laundry, cleaning her space, cooking something simple. She moved slowly, deliberately, like she was trying not to rush herself into feeling too much.
By evening, she stood in front of her mirror, unsure of what she was dressing for.
Not to impress.
Not to perform.
Just to feel like herself.
She chose a simple black dress nothing tight, nothing loud. It fell just above her knees, easy, comfortable. She wore flat sandals and minimal makeup, letting her skin breathe.
When she looked at her reflection, she didn't try to smile.
She just nodded.
At exactly seven, there was a knock.
She opened the door.
Liam stood there, hands in his pockets, dressed casually dark jeans, a plain shirt, clean sneakers. No forced charm. No rehearsed confidence.
"You look good," he said simply.
"Thanks," she replied. "You too."
He hesitated. "Ready?"
She grabbed her bag and stepped outside.
The drive was quiet but not awkward.
The city hummed around them. Windows down slightly. Music low. Liam didn't rush to fill the silence, and Aria didn't feel pressured to speak.
That alone meant something.
"Where are we going?" she asked eventually.
"Somewhere calm," he said. "I figured we both needed that."
She glanced at him. "You figured right."
They ended up at a small, understated restaurant tucked away from the busy streets. Nothing fancy. Nothing obvious. The kind of place you'd miss if you weren't looking.
Inside, warm lighting wrapped around them.
They sat across from each other.
For a moment, Aria felt it that familiar instinct to brace herself, to expect things to move too fast or too slow or not at all.
But Liam didn't lean forward. Didn't reach across the table. Didn't make promises.
He just asked, "How's your week been… really?"
She blinked.
"Really?"
He nodded. "Not the surface answer."
So she told him.
About exhaustion.
About pressure.
About feeling pulled in different emotional directions without wanting to hurt anyone including herself.
Liam listened.
Not with interruptions.
Not with advice.
Just listening.
"I get that," he said when she finished. "More than you think."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly an open book."
He smiled faintly. "I'm trying to stop being closed."
The food arrived. They ate slowly, trading stories not dramatic ones, just fragments of their lives. Childhood memories. Things that shaped them. Things they didn't talk about often.
At one point, Aria caught him watching her.
Not intensely.
Not possessively.
Like he was memorizing her presence.
"What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just… I like when you're comfortable."
Her chest tightened.
After dinner, he didn't suggest anything big.
"Do you want to walk?" he asked. "There's a park nearby."
She nodded.
The night air was cool. Streetlights cast long shadows. Their footsteps matched without effort.
They walked side by side not touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth.
"I don't want to rush you," Liam said suddenly.
She slowed. "Rush me into what?"
"Anything," he said honestly. "Feelings. Decisions. Definitions."
She stopped walking.
He stopped too.
"I know you've been through things," he continued. "And I don't want to be another voice pulling you somewhere you're not ready to go."
Her throat tightened.
"That matters," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Good. Because I mean it."
They sat on a bench beneath a tree. No dramatic city view. Just stillness.
Liam leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I've realized something about myself," he said. "I hide when I care."
She looked at him.
"I joke. I act casual. I keep things light. But when something actually starts to matter…" He exhaled. "I get scared."
She didn't judge him for it.
She understood it.
"I'm trying to be braver," he added. "Not louder. Just… braver."
She studied his face in the dim light.
"Being here tonight," she said, "that's brave."
He smiled small, genuine.
They sat there until the night deepened, talking about nothing and everything. No grand confessions. No dramatic turning point.
Just presence.
When it was time to go, Liam drove her home.
Outside her place, he turned to her.
"I had a good time," he said. "No pressure. I just wanted you to know."
"I did too," she replied.
He hesitated, then leaned in not for a kiss, but for her forehead.
A soft, careful gesture.
"Goodnight, Aria."
"Goodnight, Liam."
She watched him leave, feeling something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Not certainty.
But peace.
Inside her room, she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
The night replayed in fragments not perfect, not dramatic.
But real.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she had to choose anything yet.
She could just be.