It happened on a Sunday.
The kind of day when the air was still and warm, heavy with the quiet hush of the city winding down. Lina had stopped by a neighborhood café for a coffee, her sketchpad tucked under one arm, a false sense of calm clinging to her like a scarf in spring.
When she stepped inside, she noticed her immediately.
Mira.
Sitting alone at a window seat, stirring her tea with slow precision. She looked up—and their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, Lina froze. She hadn’t seen Mira up close in months. Usually, it was at parties or passing glances across a room. But never like this. Never face-to-face, stripped of noise and crowds.
Mira offered a soft smile. “Lina, right?”
Lina nodded. “Hi.”
“Coffee?” Mira gestured to the seat across from her. “Join me?”
Lina hesitated for just a second too long. But then she walked over, sliding into the seat, hands clasped tightly around her sketchpad.
They sat in silence as Mira took another sip of her tea. Her calm was disarming—composed, like someone who had thought this through.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Mira said, voice gentle.
Lina’s throat tightened. “About what?”
Mira looked at her for a moment before answering. “About Ethan.”
The name felt like a pin dropping in a quiet room.
“I know there’s something between you two,” Mira said, folding her hands on the table. “Or—maybe not something… but there was. A pull. A history.”
Lina blinked, caught off guard by the sheer lack of malice in her tone. There was no sarcasm, no venom. Only quiet knowing.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to be messy,” Lina whispered.
“I know,” Mira replied. “You’re not the villain here, Lina. Neither am I. And honestly… neither is Ethan. He just doesn’t know how to choose without hurting someone.”
Lina looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. Guilt pooled in her stomach like spilled ink.
“I saw the way he looked for you after you disappeared,” Mira continued. “He kept checking his phone. He barely touched his food. And when I asked if he was okay… he lied. Poorly.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” Lina said quietly. “I never wanted to be in between.”
Mira smiled, but it was the kind that came after you’ve cried in the dark. “I believe you. But you’re there anyway.”
The words hung between them, heavy and real.
Lina’s voice cracked slightly. “He made me feel like I mattered.”
“Because you do,” Mira said, without missing a beat. “To him. That’s the hardest part.”
Lina blinked, startled. “You’re not angry?”
Mira’s gaze softened. “I was. But then I realized… this isn’t about choosing between two girls. It’s about Ethan figuring out who he is. And he’s still learning.”
Lina let out a shaky breath. “It hurts. Feeling so close to something real and knowing it’ll never be yours.”
“I know,” Mira said. “That ache? I’ve felt it too. In the quiet moments when he seems far away even when he’s right beside me.”
They sat in silence again. Not cold, not hostile. Just two women sitting on either side of the same fracture.
Finally, Mira spoke again, voice like the first breeze after rain.
“You matter to him, Lina. I know that. But please… don’t wait for someone who’s already chosen.”
Lina bit her lip, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Mira stood, pulling her coat over her shoulders. She looked back at Lina, something like gratitude in her expression.
“I hope we both find something certain one day.”
And then she was gone.
Lina sat there for a long time after. Her coffee had gone cold, her sketchpad untouched. But her heart—her heart was finally beginning to understand.
It wasn’t bitterness she felt. It wasn’t even heartbreak anymore.
It was release.
