By the time they returned to Rege's bedroom, the house had grown even quieter.
Maya showered first, taking her time beneath the warm water before changing into one of Rege's oversized dark blue sweatshirts. The fabric fell loosely around her thighs, the sleeves extending well beyond her wrists.
She emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and found Rege waiting for her.
He disappeared inside once she was ready, leaving her to settle against the pillows while she reached for her phone.
A little later, he returned in dark blue shorts and a matching T-shirt that fitted closely across his shoulders and chest.
Maya looked up.
Then she looked again.
Rege noticed.
Of course he did.
He stopped beside the bed, one eyebrow lifting as she continued to stare.
"What?"
Maya slowly lowered her phone.
"Nothing."
He regarded her with familiar suspicion.
She sat up straighter, trying to arrange her expression into something respectable.
It didn't work.
"You look handsome for just bed," she announced.
Rege stared at her.
Then he shook his head with a quiet chuckle.
"Just bed?"
"Yes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you look like that when you're going to sleep."
He glanced down at himself before looking back at her.
"And?"
"And it's deeply unfair."
A genuine smile tugged at his mouth.
Maya sighed dramatically and patted the space beside her.
"Come here. Before I start complaining."
He sat beside her, and she immediately shifted closer until their shoulders touched.
The bed dipped slightly beneath his weight.
Maya tucked her legs beneath herself, her oversized sleeves gathering around her hands as she turned toward him.
"Right," she announced. "We need an activity."
Rege looked at her.
"Something entertaining."
"What do you suggest?"
Maya considered this with great seriousness.
"We could watch a movie, listen to music, or read."
"Anything you want."
The answer came easily, without hesitation.
Maya practically beamed.
She loved that about him. He didn't need to take charge of every decision, and he never made her feel foolish for being excited about something as simple as spending time together.
"Great!" She clasped her hands together. "Then I suggest we read and chat."
Rege nodded.
Maya's eyes brightened.
"Recommend a book."
"Your book."
She blinked.
For a moment, she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.
"My book?"
Her mouth fell open slightly.
"You want us to read Resurgence?"
"Yes."
She studied his face, searching for any sign that he was teasing her.
There was none.
"You're serious?"
"You haven't sent it to me yet."
Maya stared at him for another second.
Then something warm and almost overwhelming unfurled inside her chest.
She had written Resurgence long before this moment, building its characters and their pain from imagination, patience, and countless hours of work. It was a story she had chosen to share with the world, but sharing it with Rege felt different.
He wasn't simply another reader.
He was the man beside whom she had begun to feel safe enough to let herself be seen.
And he wanted to read something she had created.
Not because she had asked him to.
Because he wanted to.
Maya's smile softened.
"Fine, if you say so."
She reached for her phone on the bedside table, unlocked it, and opened her document. Then she settled closer to Rege, angling the screen so they could both see it comfortably.
He adjusted the pillows behind them and rested an arm along the headboard.
Maya glanced at the opening page.
For the first time that evening, she felt a little shy.
It was ridiculous. She had published her writing for strangers to read, yet the thought of Rege reading her words while sitting right beside her made her suddenly conscious of every sentence.
He noticed her hesitation.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Krasota."
She turned toward him.
His expression was patient, his eyes resting on her face.
She let out a small laugh.
"I'm just thinking about how strange this feels."
"Why?"
"Because you're actually going to read it."
"I did say I wanted to."
"I know."
She looked down at her phone again, smiling.
"Okay. Here goes."
Before scrolling to the beginning, she decided to tell him what the story was about.
"My book is called Resurgence," she began. "It's about a woman who comes to New York to chase her dream of independence and falls in love. But what begins as a beautiful relationship quickly becomes painful and traumatic, and she loses herself and gets her heart broken."
Her voice grew quieter as she continued.
"She survives, though. And the real story begins when she falls in love again."
She paused, her thumb resting against the edge of the phone.
"Hopefully, this time it turns out well."
Rege had been watching her throughout the explanation.
Now his gaze shifted briefly to the screen.
Then back to her.
"Hopefully?"
Maya laughed softly.
"Well, I can't tell you everything before we read it, can I?"
"I suppose not."
She nudged his side with her elbow.
"Besides, you'll have to keep reading to find out."
Rege's mouth curved.
"We should begin."
Maya turned her attention to the document.
And together, they began to read.
Time passed quietly.
The bedroom was illuminated by the bedside lamp and the pale glow of Maya's phone. Beyond the curtains, the grounds of the Hastings estate lay beneath the darkness, the occasional rustle of leaves barely audible through the closed windows.
Maya read portions aloud, sometimes stopping to explain a detail or answer one of Rege's questions. He listened with an attentiveness that made her increasingly aware of how seriously he was taking her work.
He didn't simply skim the words.
He followed them.
When something interested him, he asked about it. When she explained a character's decision, he listened without interrupting. Occasionally, he offered a brief observation that made her pause and consider something she hadn't thought about before.
Maya found herself enjoying the experience more than she had anticipated.
She had expected him to be polite.
She hadn't expected him to be so engaged.
At some point, she leaned against his shoulder while they read, her damp hair brushing his arm. Rege shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, his hand settling over hers where it rested on the blanket.
Neither of them acknowledged the gesture.
They didn't need to.
For a while, the world outside their room ceased to matter.
There were only the words on the screen, their occasional conversation, and the quiet comfort of being together.
Then Maya's phone vibrated.
A notification appeared at the top of the screen.
Calvin: Are you asleep?
Maya's eyes narrowed.
She glanced at the time.
3:00 a.m.
Her thumb hovered above the notification.
Calvin?
She hadn't expected to hear from him, particularly not at this hour. Since everything had happened, their communication had been limited or not at all, and she had assumed he understood the distance that now existed between them.
She read the message again.
Something about it unsettled her.
Not because he had contacted her, exactly, but because he had done so in the middle of the night without explaining why.
Maya frowned.
Rege glanced at the screen, then returned his attention to the page.
She hesitated before shifting slightly.
"Excuse me. Let me reply to this. It's quite unusual."
Rege nodded.
Maya brought the phone closer and typed.
Maya: I am awake. What's wrong? Are you okay?
The response arrived almost immediately.
Calvin: Nothing, I'm okay.
Maya exhaled softly.
At least he was all right.
She had no desire to return to the complications of their past, but that didn't mean she wanted anything bad to happen to him. Whatever had happened between them, she had never wished him harm.
Still, she stared at the message.
If nothing was wrong, why was he texting her at three in the morning?
She typed again.
Maya: Are you certain you're okay? It's late.
Calvin: I'm very sure. I'm okay.
Maya's forehead creased.
She looked at the screen for another moment before responding.
Maya: Then why are you texting me this late?
His answer came quickly.
Calvin: How are you doing now? How is your health?
Maya's expression softened a little.
It was a reasonable question, and she was glad that her health had improved enough for her to enjoy the evening without worrying about every small discomfort.
But it still didn't answer what she wanted to know.
Maya: I'm fine, and my health is better. You haven't answered my question.
A pause followed.
Then another message appeared.
Calvin: Why are you being so formal with me?
Maya stared at the screen.
Formal?
She leaned back against the pillows, her lips parting in disbelief.
Maya: I'm not. Besides, you're the one texting me at this ungodly hour when nothing is wrong with you, and you refuse to tell me why.
She glanced at Rege.
He was sitting beside her, his eyes directed toward the phone rather than the document they had been reading. He hadn't asked who was messaging her or attempted to interrupt. He simply waited, giving her room to handle the conversation herself.
Maya appreciated that.
She returned to the screen.
Another message had arrived.
Calvin: You said we're not enemies.
Maya's shoulders lowered slightly.
She remembered saying that. She had meant it when she said it, and she still meant it now.
Not being enemies, however, did not mean returning to the relationship they had once shared. It did not erase what had happened, nor did it mean they could simply resume speaking as though nothing had changed.
She typed her response.
Maya: And I meant it, but not at this hour.
She set the phone against her thigh, expecting him to understand the point.
Instead, another notification appeared.
Calvin: I've been thinking about you a lot lately.
Maya closed her eyes briefly.
Then she sighed and shook her head.
Oh, Calvin.
She had no idea what he expected her to say to that.
Her thumb moved across the screen.
Maya: Okay please.
The reply came almost instantly.
Calvin: Just okay?
Maya looked at the message, genuinely at a loss.
What else was she supposed to say?
That she had been thinking about him too? That the past still mattered? That she was willing to revisit a chapter of her life she had already worked so hard to move beyond?
None of those things was true.
She typed.
Maya: What am I supposed to say?
For the first time since the conversation began, Calvin took a little longer to respond.
Maya lowered the phone slightly and turned toward Rege.
He met her gaze.
She gave him an apologetic smile.
"I'm so sorry about this. It's my ex. It seems he's going through a phase. I'll be done soon."
Rege studied her face for a moment.
Then he lifted his hand and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Maya leaned into his palm before she even realised she was doing it, her eyes closing briefly at the familiar tenderness of his touch.
The gesture was so natural that she didn't think about it.
She simply rested against his hand.
"It's fine," he whispered. "Take your time, Krasota."
Maya opened her eyes.
For a moment, she forgot about the phone.
She looked at him, at the quiet affection in his expression, and felt her heart settle into the warmth of being understood without having to explain herself.
Then her phone vibrated again.
Maya rolled her eyes.
Rege's hand fell gently to his lap.
She turned back to the screen.
Calvin: I want us to meet on a date or something so we can talk.
Maya's eyebrows drew together.
A date?
She read the message twice, hoping she had misunderstood him.
She hadn't.
Her response was immediate.
Maya: I won't go on a date with you.
Calvin: Okay, not a date. But I want to take you somewhere expensive so we can talk there.
Maya let out a small, incredulous breath.
Somewhere expensive?
As though the location would make the conversation more appealing.
She shook her head.
Maya: I'm not interested. Besides, there's nothing for us to talk about.
She expected that to settle the matter.
Instead, Calvin tried again.
Calvin: Okay, we can meet somewhere else for a short meeting. I want to tell you certain things in person.
Maya's mouth tightened.
What could he possibly need to tell her that couldn't be said in a message?
And why did he seem so determined to meet when she had already made it clear she wasn't interested?
She typed the words again.
Maya: I'm still not interested.
She watched the screen, waiting.
A moment later, another message arrived.
Calvin: Just think about it. It doesn't have to be soon. Just think about it. I want us to meet. I want to talk to you in person.
Maya stared at the message for several seconds.
She didn't like the persistence.
Not because she was afraid of speaking to Calvin, but because she had already answered him more than once. She didn't want to spend the rest of the night explaining a boundary she had made perfectly clear.
She was tired.
She wanted to return to her book, to the man beside her, and to the peaceful evening that had been theirs before the conversation began.
So she decided to end it.
Maya: Okay, fine. I need to sleep, so bye.
Calvin replied almost immediately.
Calvin: Okay, I also need to go to work in the morning, so we'll talk later.
Maya gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head.
Of course.
Maya: Okay.
She placed the phone face down on the bedside table.
For a moment, she simply looked at it.
Then she drew a quiet breath and turned back toward Rege.
"I'm sorry about that once again," Maya said, offering him a sheepish smile. "He just seems to be going through a phase."
Rege nodded.
His expression hadn't changed much, but Maya knew him well enough to notice the quiet thoughtfulness in his eyes.
He hadn't interrupted her conversation. He hadn't demanded an explanation or made her feel that she needed to defend herself for answering Calvin's messages.
That mattered to her.
She shifted closer, resting her hand against his arm.
"Thank you for being patient with me."
Rege turned his head toward her.
"You never have to apologise for anything, Krasota."
"I know, but we were doing something together, and then I spent all that time texting him."
"It's fine Krasota."
Maya studied him.
There was no irritation in his voice, no accusation hidden beneath his words. He seemed entirely willing to let the matter rest.
She smiled softly.
"You're wonderful, you know that?"
Rege's expression remained composed, though a faint warmth touched his eyes.
Maya laughed under her breath.
Then she settled against him again, her fingers tracing a small, absentminded pattern along his arm.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The bedside lamp cast a warm circle of light over the bed, leaving the corners of the room in shadow. Her phone remained face down on the table, and the document they had been reading was still open on the screen.
Maya glanced toward it.
She had been so excited to share her story with him.
Now she wondered whether he still wanted to continue.
Before she could ask, Rege spoke.
"Tell me about your breakup."
Maya went still.
The words were simple, spoken without accusation or unnecessary emphasis.
His tone was gentle, almost casual, but she knew what he was asking.
Yet they seemed to settle differently in the quiet room.
Maya lowered her eyes to their joined hands.
She had known, eventually, that she would have to tell him. A relationship did not disappear simply because it had ended, and she didn't want the things she had experienced before Rege to quietly shape the things they were building together.
She slowly lifted her head from his shoulder.
Rege was looking directly at her.
His aquamarine eyes held hers steadily, and there was nothing casual about the question. He wasn't asking out of idle curiosity. He wanted to understand something that had happened to her, something that had left its mark long before he entered her life.
Maya's fingers stopped moving against his arm.
For a moment, she couldn't find an answer.
She didn't want to carry old hurt into something new.
But knowing she wanted to tell him and knowing how to begin were two entirely different things.
It meant returning to a period of her life she would rather leave behind.
It meant putting words to things she had spent a long time trying to make sense of.
And it meant allowing someone she loved to see the parts of her that had not always been strong, the moments when she had been confused, frightened, or too hurt to understand what was happening to her.
She looked away.
The soft light from the bedside lamp fell across the blanket, catching on the folds of the dark blue sweatshirt she wore. She rubbed her thumb against the cuff of its sleeve, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.
Rege didn't rush her.
He didn't repeat the question or reach for an answer she wasn't ready to give.
He simply waited.
Maya swallowed.
A faint breath escaped her as she tried to gather her thoughts, but the words remained tangled somewhere behind her ribs.
She had wanted this evening to be simple.
A meal with Rege. A little laughter. Reading her story together while the rest of the world slept.
She hadn't expected to find herself standing at the edge of a memory she had worked so hard to leave behind.
Slowly, she turned back toward him.
Rege's expression had softened.
He reached for her hand, his fingers closing gently around hers.
"You can take your time, Krasota," he said quietly.
Maya looked down at their joined hands.
His thumb moved once across her knuckles.
Something tightened in her throat.
She had never wanted her past to become the centre of the life she was building with him. She didn't want old pain to dictate the shape of something new, or the mistakes of someone else to become the measure of what she could expect from love.
But Rege wasn't asking her to remain silent.
He was offering to listen.
And somehow, that made the truth both easier and harder to tell.
Maya drew a slow breath.
Then another.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before.
"It wasn't always bad."
Rege remained still, his hand holding hers.
Maya stared at their fingers for another moment, searching for a place to begin.
Because the hardest part was never explaining how something ended.
It was explaining how something that had once made you happy had gradually become something you needed to survive.
And Maya wasn't yet sure how to tell him that story.
But she would try.
For Rege, she would try.