Matéo's POV

She fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking slightly as she struggled to unlocked the door. It was subtle, but I noticed. I couldn't tell if it was from the cold rain or fear— maybe a bit of both. Her wet hair clung to the sides of her face, dark and tangled, dripping onto her shoulders. There was something captivating about her— it was the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you, quiet and understated, the kind that only grows the more you look.

I could feel her unease radiating off her like heat, and I couldn't blame her. I wasn't exactly in the best state to inspire trust, especially after 6 years inside.

She finally managed to push the door open, and the soft creak of the hinges filled the silence. She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter first. I could feel her eyes on me when I stepped inside, the sense of familiarity that once greeted me now gone.

I wiped the water off my face with the sleeve of my jacket, but the discomfort lingered. The place looked the same on the outside— same creaky door, same small windows. But it didn't feel like home anymore. The familiar scent of my mother's cooking, which used to welcome me after a long day at college or work, was replaced by the clean scent of fresh flowers, or maybe some air freshener. I tried to breathe it in, but it felt foreign, distant, like it didn't belong here. Just like I didn't belong here anymore.

The old, cozy warmth that used to fill the room— family photos, memories— was gone. The walls were now adorned with vibrant abstract paintings and sharp colors. It was beautiful, in a modern, impersonal way, but nothing about it felt like the place I grew up in.

"Uhm, you can take a shower if you want. I'll- uh, I'll grab you some clean clothes." Her voice was barely aboce a whisper, softly breaking through my thoughts.

I turned to her, noticing how her arms were wrapped around her body, her slender frame almost disappearing into the oversized sweater she was wearing. The sweater hung off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her neck, and I had to look away, feeling a strange pull towards her that I didn't want to acknowledge. She still hadn't made eye contact, her gaze darting anywhere but at me, and I could see a flush of color warming her cheeks despite the cold rain outside. It was hard to look away, but I wasn't supposed to notice these things. Not now. Not like this.

"That would be great... thanks." I replied, my voice lower than I intended. She nodded quickly, retreating down the hallway towards my mom's old bedroom.

I wandered towards the bathroom, the sound of drawers opening and closing echoing in the background. A wave of familiarity hit me, not much had changed here, except for the shower curtain. I turned on the shower, letting the hot water run as I peeled off my clothes. The warmth of the water was a strange kind of comfort— something I hadn't felt in years. In prison, everything was cold, rushed, clinical. There was no room for comfort, no room for anything soft. I closed my eyes, letting the water wash away the negative memories that were creeping in my thoughts.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, I could hear faint noises in the kitchen, the scent of food filled the air. The girl— whose name I still didn't know— had left grey sweatpants and a black shirt neatly folded on the dresser by bathroom door, which I gratefully took. I paused for a moment, wondering briefly who they belonged to. Her boyfriend, maybe? The thought of wearing some guy's clothes felt odd, but I didn't exactly have a choice. The pants fit surprisingly well, though the shirt cling onto my chest a little tighter than I was used to.

As I walked into the kitchen, I spotted her standing by the stove, her back to me as she stirred something in the pot. I quietly took a seat at the table by the window, but my eyes kept drifting back to her, unable to help myself. There was something undeniably captivating about the way she moved— graceful, yet tense, as if she was holding something back. I tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing myself to focus on the table where two plates were already set.

"Thank you for letting me stay," I said, my voice breaking the silence that had settled between us. "Really, I appreciate it."

She looked at me, her eyes softening as she looked at me for the first time since we'd come inside. "It's fine. I uhm... assumed you wouldn't have anywhere else to go, so..." She trailed off, clearing her throat. "And I owe it to Silvia. She helped me out at some point too." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm Maylin by the way." She added as she sat down across from me, signaling me to take some of the food on the table.

"Maylin," I repeated, her name felt soft, sweet on my tongue. I gave her a smile, trying to ease some of the tension between us.

"I'll figure something out soon," I continued, trying to sound reassuring. "I don't want to be a burden to you."

She glanced up at me briefly, then back down at her plate, chewing slowly. The conversation wasn't going anywhere, but I couldn't blame her. She didn't know me, I didn't know her, and this wasn't exactly an ideal situation to get to know a stranger.

"I can sleep on the couch," I offered, hoping to make her feel more comfortable. I could see the nervous energy still simmering under her calm exterior, her foot tapping lightly against the floor beneath the table. I wanted to put her at ease, but I didn't know how.

"Oh, uhm.. you don't have to. I set up one of the spare bedrooms as a guest bedroom, so... you can just sleep there if you'd like," Her shoulders relaxed a little.

The meal passed in silence after that, an uncomfortable one. When we finished eating, Maylin began gathering the plates, moving quickly as if she couldn't stand still for long. I stood to help, but she waved me off.

"I've got it. You should rest or... something." Her voice was strained, her hands trembling again just enough for me to notice.

I retreated to the couch, sensing that she needed space. My thoughts wandered to what I needed to do next. I had to get back on my feet— find a job, something stable— before I could even think about finding my mother. I couldn't rely on Maylin's kindness forever. And I certainly didn't want to cause her any more trouble.

It wasn't going to be easy— no one exactly lines up to hire an ex-con, but I had to try. I had already lost so much, and I wasn't going to let myself lose more.

Maylin hesitated by the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I made the bed ready for you in the guest room if you want to rest. Uhm... I'm going to bed now." Her eyes darted everywhere but at me, avoiding contact again.

"Alright. Thank you... goodnight, Maylin."

She muttered a quick "goodnight" before disappearing into her bedroom. Then I heard a soft click of her door locking and for a second, that felt like a slap in the face. But I understood. She didn't know me, yet she had every reason to be cautious with the things she did know.

Still, it stung.

I wandered into the spare bedroom— which coincidentally used to be mine. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, listening to the rain. It was comforting in a way, the steady rhythm lulling me into a sense of calm I hadn't felt in years. Eventually, I let sleep take over.

**********

I woke up to the sound of something clattering loudly in the kitchen. My eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment, panic gripped my chest. But then I remembered where I was— Maylin's apartment, not a cell. My body relaxed as I listened to her moving around, muttering under her breath.

I got up and padded towards the kitchen, finding her by the counter, her hands shaking as she scrambled to pick up a pan she'd dropped.

"Morning." I called out, my voice hoarse from sleep as I rubbed my eye. She jumped, turning to face me with wide eyes.

"Oh! I didn't mean to wake you... I-I'm so sorry." She stammered, her face pale. She looked to the ground, like she was waiting for something... a reaction maybe? My chest tightened. Did she expect me to lash out on her?

"You didn't," I said gently, stepping closer. She looked so fragile, standing there like that. "It's fine, really. I usually wake up early anyway."

Her gaze flickered to mine for a brief second, and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the morning light. There was something about her— an undeniable pull that made it hard to tear my eyes away.

"Are you okay?" I asked when she didn't reply, watching her fidget nervously.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she nodded quickly, as she moved around the kitchen with quick, jerky motions. "I'm just— uhm, getting ready for work. Sorry if I'm a little all over the place." She glanced at the clock, her expression tight.

She barely looked at me as she walked out of the kitchen, grabbed a bag and started putting on her shoes in silence. Before she could rush out the door, I stepped up and caught her attention. "Listen, I was thinking... I'm going to look for a job today. I need to start getting my life back in order."

Maylin paused, her gaze softening. "That's... okay. You can use my laptop if you need it. It's on the coffee table in the living room."

"Thanks," I said, relieved that she trusted me enough to offer that.

She gave me a quick nod before disappearing out the door, the apartment suddenly quiet again.

I spend the next hour browsing job listings, scrolling through endless pages of places, and I tried my best to stay optimistic, but most places weren't exactly keen on hiring someone with my history. Then, as I scrolled further, something caught my eye— a job listing for a restaurant. I almost scrolled past it, but something stopped me. It was the same restaurant my mom used to work at.

I stared at the screen for a moment, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time in a while. Why hadn't I thought of checking there first? I know I said I wanted to get back on my feet before looking for my mom, but I couldn't just ignore this lead. Maybe they'd know where she was. Maybe this was my chance to find her.

Without thinking twice, I shut the laptop, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door, determined to find out.

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