Jordan

As the last guests trickle out of the house, laughter and whispers fading into the night, I turn to Emily. My smile feels tight, fake, like a mask I’m too exhausted to wear. She doesn’t question my excuse about work, just nods, her gaze sleepy and indifferent. A weight crushes my chest, an ache deep and biting. I promised Mya I'd never hurt her, and I broke that promise tonight.

In my room, I change quickly into black track suit pants, a black Nike hoodie, and matching sneakers. Each movement feels mechanical, my thoughts tangled and heavy. Emily is already asleep, curled under the covers like a figure in a painting I can’t connect with. The only sound in the house is the soft hum of night, which only makes my heartbeat louder.

I grab my keys, my fingers curling around them like a lifeline, and head to the car. The drive is silent, the city lights blurring past me in a kaleidoscope of guilt and regret. My mind replays Mya’s tear-stained face over and over, a relentless loop I can't escape.

When I arrive, I take a breath before unlocking her door. The tension in my shoulders spreads to my spine as I step inside, the quiet air of her apartment almost suffocating. My eyes scan the living room empty. I move towards the bedroom, every step a reluctant confession of the pain I've caused.

She’s sitting on the bed, wearing a white gown that looks too big for her, like armor failing to protect. Her hair is tousled, her eyes puffy and rimmed with red, and she’s cradling a tub of ice cream. For a moment, she looks like a child lost in a storm, so vulnerable it cuts me deeper than I expected.

I knock softly against the doorframe. “Mya…”

She looks up, her expression a mixture of hurt and defiance. "What are you doing here, Jordan?"

Her voice is low, edged with exhaustion. I swallow, my throat dry. "Mya, I need to explain. Please, just give me a chance."

"A chance for what?" she snaps. "To tell me more lies? Please, just leave me alone."

The pain in her voice twists my insides. I step closer, but she recoils. “I know what I did was horrible, Mya. I have no excuse for it, but please listen. I was... jealous. When I saw those photos and videos of you and Luca how you matched outfits, how he looked at you, how he made you laugh it tore me apart. I can’t stand that I can’t be seen with you in public like that. I didn’t mean to avoid you, I just ”

“Really, Jordan?” she interrupts, ice cracking in her tone. “I told you no one would replace you. But now I see you don't trust me. Fine. It’s okay. Just... leave.”

Her words are a dagger, each one lodging itself in my chest. I drop my gaze to the floor. “Mya, please. Forgive me. I’m willing to show you how sorry I am.”

“How, Jordan?” she asks, her voice shaking. “Look, I think it’s best if you just focus on Emily and your child.”

“Really, Mya? Just like that?” My voice comes out raw, my desperation slipping through the cracks.

“Yes, Jordan. Just like that.” She brushes at the tears on her cheeks with an angry swipe. “Now, please leave.”

“Mya,” I say, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “Emily and I are trying to rebuild a friendship for the baby’s sake, not because she makes me happy. No one makes me feel the way you do. You’re the one, Mya. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything...anything to earn your trust back.”

She looks down at her ice cream, her hands trembling, and for a moment, I see the crack in her armor. Tears stream down her cheeks, and she can’t meet my eyes. I take a step forward, and she doesn’t stop me. Gently, I sit beside her on the bed.

Slowly, she leans into me, her body shaking with silent sobs. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the weight of her heartbreak pressed against me. “I’m sorry, okay? Please, don’t cry.”

Minutes pass, each one filled with the rhythm of her breathing and my whispered apologies. Then, her phone rings, piercing the fragile calm. I glance at the screen Luca’s name flashing bright like a cruel reminder.

She answers, her voice shaky but composed. “Hey, Luca. What’s up?”

I hold my breath as she listens, glancing at me, then looking away. “No, I’m fine. Just... watching a sad movie.” She pauses. “Thanks for checking up on me. I appreciate it.” She hangs up and stares at the phone as if it might explode.

“So... are we okay?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t know, Jordan.” Her voice is a whisper, as fragile as porcelain. She looks up at me, a hint of something maybe hope glimmering in her eyes. “Want some ice cream?”

Relief washes over me like a flood. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. “Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’d love some.”

As she hands me the spoon, I silently promise to never let this happen again.

As the night deepened, we sat side by side, finishing the tub of ice cream. Mya's laughter at one of my poorly delivered jokes filled the room, and for a moment, it was as though the weight of our earlier argument had lifted. She told me about her plans to spend the day with Kate’s children tomorrow. The way her face lit up as she spoke eyes sparkling, lips curving into a soft smile made my heart ache with longing. She couldn’t wait to see them, and I couldn’t wait to see her happy.

After some time, we pulled out her phone to take selfies and videos. The sound of her giggles as I made ridiculous faces filled the air, and I knew I’d do anything to hear that sound forever.

When the laughter finally subsided, I excused myself to change. From the small stash of clothes I had at her apartment a silent testament to the nights we’d stolen together I picked out a pair of gray cotton pajama pants that hung loosely around my hips and a white tank top that clung to my frame. Simple, but comfortable.

Sliding into bed beside her, I let out a sigh of contentment as Mya rested her head on my chest, her arm draped lazily across my torso. I wrapped an arm around her, savoring the warmth of her body against mine, the rhythmic sound of her breathing. My fingers gently traced patterns along her back, soothing her until her breathing slowed, and her eyes fluttered closed. Watching her sleep felt like witnessing something sacred a moment so fragile I didn’t dare move.

At 5 a.m., the faint light of dawn crept through the curtains, waking me. Careful not to disturb Mya, I slipped out of bed and pulled on the clothes I had worn yesterday. Before leaving, I grabbed a pen and paper from the desk and wrote her a note:

Good morning, beautiful. I hope you have a wonderful day with the kids. Breakfast and flowers are on their way I wanted to start your day with a smile. I’ll see you later. Always yours, Jordan.

I left it on the bedside table, then sat beside her for a moment, just watching her sleep. Her hair was a soft halo around her head, her face peaceful. God, she looked beautiful, even in sleep. Leaning down, I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before slipping out the door.

On my way to my apartment, I pulled out my phone to order breakfast a romantic gesture to make up for all the ways I had failed her. The menu was indulgent buttery croissants, fluffy scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, a side of fresh fruit, and a bottle of chilled orange juice. I added an extravagant bouquet of red roses for good measure.

As I drove back, my phone buzzed. Seeing James’ name flash on the screen, I answered.

“Hey, man,” I greeted, trying to keep my voice light.

“Jordan,” James began, his tone more serious. “Did you apologize to her? I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t forgive you.”

“I did,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “She... sort of forgave me. We talked, ate ice cream together. It felt good to have her in my arms again.”

James chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Listen, she’ll be spending time with my kids today while I take my wife out for dinner.”

“James, wouldn’t it mess up her plans if I joined them?”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” he replied. “But don’t push it. She deserves a good day.”

“Thanks, man. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Will do. Take care, Jordan.”

By the time I reached my apartment, Emily was still asleep. I took a quick shower and changed into black slim-fit jeans, a crisp white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. My black boots completed the look a balance of casual and polished. Sophia was already cleaning when I left, nodding a polite good morning.

At my restaurant, everything was running smoothly. Watching my employees work with precision and pride filled me with a sense of accomplishment. But even amidst the bustle of the kitchen and the aroma of freshly baked bread, my thoughts were with Mya.

When I arrived at her apartment later, Mya was radiant in a pale yellow sundress that flowed around her like sunlight. Her curls framed her face perfectly, and her skin glowed. She was with Kate’s children, and seeing her laugh with them made my chest tighten. She looked beautiful too beautiful to only be admired in secret.

She smiled softly as she opened the door. “Thank you for the flowers and breakfast,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with hesitation. “Come on in.”

Inside, we baked a cake together for Johnson. The kids insisted on cupcakes too, so we rolled up our sleeves and got to work. The kitchen buzzed with laughter and flour-dusted hands. Later, we cooked a hearty meal together something Mya orchestrated with ease.

When it was time to eat, we sat around the table, sharing stories, eating cake, and singing songs. For a moment, it felt like a glimpse into the future a life where Mya and I weren’t just playing pretend.

At the mall later, Mya indulged the kids, helping them pick out toys and clothes. Watching her laugh as she helped them try on shoes made me imagine her doing the same with our children someday. Afterward, she treated herself to a manicure, her attention to detail captivating. She looked up at me with a playful smile. “What do you think?”

“You always know how to look after yourself,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended.

Back at her apartment, the kids played with their new toys while Mya told me about her latest projects at work. Her passion for what she does always leaves me in awe. I could listen to her talk forever.

Then, Johnson broke the moment with a question that hit me like a freight train. “Uncle Jordan, why don’t you make Aunt Mya your wife? She’s beautiful, she loves us, and you’re perfect for each other.”

I froze, glancing at Mya, whose cheeks flushed. Clearing my throat, I forced a laugh. “Oh, Johnson, Aunt Mya will find a man one day. Don’t you worry.”

But as the words left my mouth, I realized I didn’t believe them. Mya wasn’t just any woman. She was the woman. My woman.

Sorry for the short chapter.Thank you for reading l.

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