Morning After, Mouth Still Open

Maya woke before the sun.

She wasn’t used to that anymore. Most mornings dragged her awake like a punishment, but today her eyes fluttered open without struggle. The light was soft and gray, filtering through the thin curtains like it was being gentle on purpose.

Her body ached in the best way. Between her legs, in the curve of her hips, down her thighs. But nothing hurt the way it used to. Not with shame. Not with regret. Just the tender reminder of what had happened. Of what she let happen.

She turned her head.

Elias lay on his back beside her, one arm thrown over his face, the other resting palm-up on the mattress like he was waiting for something.

She studied him in the silence. There was something vulnerable in the way he slept. The tension that usually lived in his jaw had disappeared, and without it, he looked younger. Not harmless. Never that. But less sharp.

Her gaze fell to his chest. The rise and fall. The little scar under his ribs. She traced it once, lightly, with her fingertip.

He stirred but didn’t wake.

And that made her smile.

She slipped out of bed quietly, pulling his shirt over her head as she padded to the bathroom.

Her reflection startled her.

Messy hair, flushed cheeks, bite marks at the base of her neck. She looked like someone who’d been ruined. But in the kind of way you want to be.

She touched her lips. They still tingled.

For a moment, standing there, she wanted to cry.

Not from sadness.

From relief.

This time had been different. Entirely. She had led. She had taken. She had wanted. And he had listened.

No flinching. No fear.

She could still hear herself. That soft command in her own voice.

"I want it harder."

It hadn’t been about pain. It had been about power. Reclaiming it.

And for once, her body didn’t feel like a battlefield.

When she stepped back into the bedroom, Elias was awake.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, shirtless, elbows on his knees.

He turned when he heard her.

Maya paused in the doorway, unsure of what to say.

“Hey,” he said, voice still low and rough from sleep.

She nodded. “Hey.”

He stood slowly, like he didn’t want to rush whatever this was.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

He walked toward her. Stopped just close enough to touch but didn’t.

“I meant what I said last night,” he said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

She reached up, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his chest.

He froze for a second.

Then relaxed.

“I don’t know what this is,” she whispered.

“Me either.”

“But I think I want to find out.”

His hand moved to the back of her head. “Then we will.”

They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in quiet.

It was Maya who pulled back first.

She stepped away and gestured toward the kitchen. “If you want coffee, you’re making it.”

Elias smirked. “So I’m just your house boy now?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled and followed her.

The apartment smelled like toast and burnt eggs.

Maya leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee, while Elias stood at the stove, looking mildly offended by the pan.

“Who doesn’t own butter?” he muttered.

“I do. It’s just expired.”

“Of course it is.”

She grinned and shook her head.

It felt almost normal.

Like they were just two people trying to make breakfast on a Sunday morning.

Except she wasn’t used to normal. And when it came, it always made her feel like something terrible was waiting just around the corner.

As if reading her thoughts, Elias turned to her, spatula in hand.

“You’re overthinking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one where your mouth is still open but your heart’s already hiding.”

She blinked.

“You don’t have to wait for me to mess up,” he said. “I will. But not today.”

She stared into her coffee.

“Maybe I don’t trust good mornings,” she admitted.

“I get that.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Good mornings used to mean something bad was on the way. When I was a kid, if my old man woke up in a good mood, it was usually because he was drunk already.”

Maya looked at him.

He shrugged. “Happiness felt like a setup.”

“That’s exactly it.”

Elias scraped the eggs onto a plate and handed it to her.

“Let’s eat the setup anyway,” he said. “Let it surprise us.”

They ate on the couch, legs tangled, the plate balanced between them.

There was no music. No background noise. Just the sound of forks on ceramic and the occasional soft breath between bites.

Maya watched him when he wasn’t looking.

The way he chewed. The way his brow furrowed slightly when something tasted too salty.

There was a gentleness under all that violence. Something careful.

She liked that he didn’t try to talk too much.

He let the silence be full.

When the plate was empty, he leaned back and looked at her.

“You keep looking at me like I might disappear.”

“You might.”

“I won’t.”

“You said that to her too, didn’t you?”

Elias didn’t answer at first.

Then: “Yes. But I meant it more this time.”

Maya nodded.

She didn’t need a promise.

She just needed him to keep showing up.

Later that afternoon, he helped her with the leaking pipe under the kitchen sink.

Neither of them had any real tools. Elias used a spoon and some string.

It didn’t work.

But the effort made her laugh so hard she nearly choked.

He looked at her like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

When he left that evening, he didn’t try to kiss her.

Just pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Thank you.”

She closed the door behind him.

But she didn’t lock it.

Not this time either.

Not yet.