Chapter 7: Space

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Maya lasted two days.

Two days of leaving the door locked. Two days of ignoring the way her chest tightened every time she heard movement on the neighboring balcony. Two days of sleeping badly and working worse.

On the third night she unlocked it again without letting herself think too hard about why.

She told herself it didn’t mean she was taking it back. It just meant she was done pretending the quiet didn’t feel worse.

Noah didn’t show up that night.

Or the next.

By the fifth day the silence had started to feel like punishment. Maya caught herself standing at the sliding door more than once, staring at his empty balcony like an idiot. She hated it. She hated how much she noticed his absence.

On the sixth night, just after eleven, the door opened.

Noah stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him. He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at her—really looked—like he was checking for damage.

Maya stood in the middle of the living room in an old T-shirt and underwear, arms crossed, pulse already climbing.

“You said you needed space,” he said.

“I did.”

“And now the door’s unlocked again.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Maybe I changed my mind about the space.”

Noah’s jaw flexed. He walked toward her slowly, stopping close enough that she had to tip her head back. He didn’t touch her yet.

“I’m not doing the back-and-forth, Maya. If you want me here, you say it. If you want me gone, you keep the door locked and I’ll stay gone. But I won’t keep guessing.”

The honesty in his voice cut clean through every defense she had left.

Maya swallowed. “I want you here.”

Something in Noah’s expression eased, but the intensity didn’t. He reached up and cupped the side of her neck, thumb stroking just under her jaw.

“Then stop running every time it starts to feel like more than sex.”

She could have argued. Instead she surged up and kissed him.

Noah made a low sound and kissed her back harder, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip and pulling her flush against him. There was nothing careful about it this time. The days of distance had scraped something raw in both of them.

They didn’t make it to the mattress right away.

Noah backed her into the wall beside the kitchen, shoved her T-shirt up, and got his mouth on her breast while his hand shoved her underwear aside. Two fingers slid into her without warning. Maya gasped and clenched around them. He worked her fast and filthy, thumb circling her clit, until her knees threatened to give out.

“Missed this,” he muttered against her skin. “Missed the way you get so wet for me.”

Maya’s head dropped back against the wall. “Noah—”

“I know.” He pulled his fingers free, spun her around, and pressed her chest to the wall. She heard the tear of a condom packet, the rustle of his clothes. Then the thick head of his cock was pushing into her from behind in one deep thrust.

The stretch punched a moan out of her.

Noah didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her hard and steady, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. The wet sound of it filled the quiet apartment. Maya pushed back to meet every thrust, already chasing the edge.

“You locked me out,” he gritted against her ear. “For six days. Don’t do that again.”

She came with a broken cry, pulsing hard around him. Noah followed almost immediately, burying himself deep and groaning into the side of her neck like it had been punched out of him.

They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, his chest pressed to her back.

Eventually Noah pulled out carefully. Maya turned and leaned against the wall, legs unsteady. He dealt with the condom, then came back and rested his forehead against hers.

“Stay,” she said quietly, before she could stop herself.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded once.

He didn’t make her say it twice.

They ended up on the mattress. Noah stripped the rest of the way and pulled her against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maya let him. She told herself it was just for tonight. Just because the sex had been intense. Just because the silence had been worse.

Noah’s fingers traced slow patterns along her spine.

“I hated the quiet,” he said after a while, voice low against her hair. “Kept checking the balcony like an idiot.”

Maya’s throat tightened. She didn’t answer. She just pressed closer and closed her eyes.

She woke up sometime before dawn tangled with him—one of his legs thrown over hers, his arm heavy across her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck. For a few seconds she didn’t move. She just lay there and let herself feel how good it was.

Then the panic started to creep in again, soft and familiar.

Maya carefully slid out from under his arm. Noah stirred but didn’t wake. She pulled on her T-shirt and stood at the sliding door, staring out at the dark strip of grass between their buildings.

Behind her, the mattress shifted.

“You’re overthinking again,” Noah said, voice rough with sleep.

She didn’t turn around. “Go back to sleep.”

He got up anyway. She heard him pull on his boxers, then felt him come up behind her. His arms slid around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I’m still here,” he said quietly. “Even when you try to push me out. You get that, right?”

Maya stared at their faint reflections in the glass. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Then we figure it out.” His arms tightened. “But I’m not going anywhere, Maya. Not unless you lock that door and mean it.”

She didn’t lock it.

She turned in his arms instead and let him walk her back to the mattress. They didn’t have sex again. Noah just pulled her against him, tucked the sheet around both of them, and held her until her body finally relaxed.

Maya fell asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat under her ear and the terrifying realization that the space she’d asked for had only made one thing clearer.

She didn’t actually want it.

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