John Derossett
Maya sat by the window, staring out at the rain tapping rhythmically against the glass. Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Lucas. It had been six months since they’d last spoken, but she could still feel his presence everywhere. It was as if he had woven himself into the fabric of her life, even though he was no longer a part of it.
They had met one summer, a time when the world seemed alive with possibility. She had been working at a small café near the harbor, spending her days serving iced coffees to tourists and locals alike. One afternoon, Lucas had walked in, drenched from an unexpected downpour. His hair was tousled, water dripping from the tips, and his blue eyes sparkled as he laughed at his own soggy appearance.
“Can I get a towel?” he had asked, smiling at Maya. “Or a boat? Whichever you have on hand.”
She had laughed, handing him a napkin as a makeshift solution. “You can have this, but I don’t think it’ll do much good.”
From that small exchange, their connection blossomed. He became a regular at the café, always sitting at the same table by the window, ordering the same black coffee. Over time, they talked more, their conversations growing deeper and more personal. Lucas was a writer, he said, and the café had become his sanctuary, a place where he could work in peace. Maya admired his passion, the way he spoke about his stories as though they were real people living inside his mind, waiting to be set free.
They started seeing each other outside of the café—long walks along the harbor, quiet evenings spent watching the sun set over the water. It wasn’t long before they became inseparable. Maya had never experienced anything like it before, this deep, undeniable connection. Lucas made her feel alive in a way no one else ever had. He saw her, truly saw her, in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Their first kiss happened on a warm summer night. They had been lying on the beach, staring up at the stars. The air was thick with the scent of salt and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Without a word, Lucas had turned to her, his eyes full of something she couldn’t quite name. And then he kissed her—softly, gently, as though he was afraid she might disappear.
In that moment, the world had shifted. Nothing else mattered. Not the café, not the tourists, not the endless responsibilities that had once weighed her down. There was only Lucas and the warmth of his lips on hers, the feeling that they were the only two people left in the world.
As summer turned to autumn, their relationship deepened. They spent lazy afternoons wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing. Lucas shared stories of his childhood, of the places he had traveled, and of the dreams he had for the future. Maya found herself opening up to him in ways she never had with anyone else. She told him about her fears, her insecurities, the dreams she had kept hidden for so long.
But as the leaves began to change color and the air grew colder, Maya sensed a shift. Lucas became more distant, more withdrawn. He would spend hours staring at his laptop, barely speaking, his mind clearly elsewhere. When she asked him what was wrong, he would brush her off, telling her that he was just working through a difficult part of his latest story. But Maya knew it was more than that.
One evening, as they sat in the café where they had first met, Lucas finally spoke the words she had been dreading.
“I’m leaving,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve been offered a fellowship in Paris. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I… I have to take it.”
Maya felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under her. Paris? It was a dream come true for Lucas, she knew that, but the thought of him being so far away, of their relationship ending, was too much to bear.
“What about us?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas looked at her then, his blue eyes full of sadness. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I can’t pass this up, Maya. You understand that, don’t you?”
She did. Of course she did. She had always known that Lucas was meant for bigger things, that he wasn’t the type of person who could be tied down to one place. But that didn’t make it any easier.
In the end, Lucas left. Maya stood on the platform of the train station, watching as he boarded the train that would take him to the airport. He had kissed her one last time, whispering that he loved her, that he would come back for her. But even then, Maya knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
Winter was the hardest. The café felt emptier without Lucas there, and the cold, gray days seemed to stretch on endlessly. Maya tried to throw herself into her work, to distract herself from the ache in her chest, but nothing seemed to help. She received letters from Lucas every now and then, full of stories about his time in Paris, the people he was meeting, the inspiration he was finding in the city’s narrow streets and bustling cafés. But as the weeks turned into months, the letters became less frequent, the words more distant.
Maya knew that she had to let go, that clinging to the hope of Lucas’s return would only prolong the pain. But it was easier said than done. Every time the door to the café opened, she found herself looking up, half expecting to see him standing there, his hair tousled from the wind, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. But he never came.
Spring arrived, and with it came a sense of renewal. The flowers began to bloom, the air grew warmer, and Maya slowly started to feel like herself again. She had thrown herself into new hobbies, meeting new people, rediscovering the parts of herself that had been lost in the wake of Lucas’s departure. She still thought of him, of course, but the pain had dulled to a distant ache, something she could live with.
One afternoon, as she was walking through the park, Maya spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench beneath a cherry blossom tree. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. But as she got closer, she realized it was him—Lucas.
He looked different. His hair was longer, and there was a new sense of weariness in his eyes. But when he looked up and saw her, that familiar smile spread across his face.
“Maya,” he said softly, standing up to greet her.
She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say. A thousand emotions surged through her—happiness, anger, relief, confusion. But all she could manage was a quiet, “Hi.”
They sat down together on the bench, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Lucas broke the silence.
“I came back,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t stay away any longer. Paris was amazing, but it wasn’t home. You… you’re my home, Maya.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. “You left,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You left, and I had to figure out how to live without you.”
“I know,” Lucas said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I thought I needed to leave to find myself, to figure out who I was as a writer, as a person. But what I didn’t realize was that I was running away from the one thing that mattered most. You.”
Maya looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all she saw was the man she had fallen in love with—the man who had made her feel alive in a way no one else ever had.
“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can trust you not to leave.”
Lucas reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I won’t leave this time,” he promised. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I want to be with you, Maya. If you’ll have me.”
Maya stared at their intertwined hands, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent so long imagining this moment, wondering what she would say if Lucas ever came back. But now that he was here, all the hurt and anger she had held onto seemed to melt away.
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Okay.”
Lucas pulled her into his arms, holding her close as the cherry blossoms fell around them like soft, pink snowflakes. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Maya felt at peace. She didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together, and for now, that was enough.
The End
