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Chapter 5 - Coffee, Confessions, and No Sleep.
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2025-09-27 13:45:33Sunday evening, Priya and I let ourselves into the apartment like thieves returning stolen time. We’d ran into each other at the coffee shop close to our apartment.
The apartment smelled like our lives. Vanilla candle, takeout ghosts and feminine perfume. She kicked the door shut with a hip and set the two cups on the counter. “So,” she said, drawing out the vowel until it wrapped around my throat. “Confession time. Handsome vintage ex-boyfriend. I want every crumb.” I dropped my keys in the bowl and propped myself against the counter as if it could hold me up. “He said he came back for me, in a nutshell.” Priya’s face did a gymnastic routine,with eyes wide open. “I knew it.’’ I felt the swoon through our chat, even though I wasn’t in it.” “Dont be so dramatic, it’s not a swoon.” I smiled, as i stared at the floor. “It’s… history sneaking through a side door.” She slid the cup into my hands. “And how does history taste tonight? Warm? Too hot? Perfect with a scoop of denial?” “Like soup and panic.” I answered Priya clinked her cup against mine. “Classic pairing . Listen, I dont think Ethan is bad. But nostalgia has a filter thicker than influencer’s foundation. Make sure you’re seeing him, not the curated throwback.” “I know...i know…” I took a sip, the heat blooming like courage I didn’t entirely own. “I told him nothing. I just stood there vibrating like a broken streetlamp.” “That’s okay.” Priya nudged my shoulder. “You owe him clarity, not speed. And you owe yourself sleep.Promise me, no big decisions. You can text the ex politely, tell him you’re processing. ” Sleep arrived late and left early. I lay in the dark listening to the city breathe and replayed that porch scene until the dialogue sounded like a rehearsal. I came back for you. The sentence pinged around my skull, lighting up rooms I’d vehemently shut. By 7:00 am i heard the soft vibration of my phone on the nightstand. I groped for it, bleary. “Hello?” “Mija!” Mom’s voice was bright enough to open curtains. “Did I wake you?” “No,” I lied, sitting up. “I was meditating on the meaning of toast.” She tsked. “Sarcasm so early, that's a good sign. Your father slept so soundly yesternight, and he’s back to complaining about my toast this morning,"This is how we know he lives.” I smiled into the dark. “I’ll come by after work.” “Oh no, you don't have to today, take time today to rest. And… about last night.” Her tone slid into that slippery, hopeful register. “Ethan is a gentleman. He carried plates. He asked about your job. He made your father laugh.” “He’s always been good with them.” I picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “And with me i guess.” Mom pounced on the opening like a cat on a string. “ And you heard him say he wasnt dating anybody Mija.” “Mum, we tried before and it didn't work out. He is just taking a temporal break. Can we stay off the wedding plans before he even thinks about proposing?” I muttered, thinking of miles and time zones, and the promises we’d tried to stretch over both in the past. She pretended not to hear. “You know I don’t push. I’m only… suggesting” Mothers have many definitions of push. “A second chance is not a crime.” “I know.” I pressed my thumb to the bridge of my nose. “I’m not saying yes. I’m not saying no. I’m saying… let me breathe, let’s see how it plays out.” “Breathe, sí.” Her voice softened. “And remember, whomever you choose, you must also choose yourself. Always yourself first. Your father says Hello.” Some parts of me melted. “I love you, Mum.” “I love you. Text whenever you're coming tomorrow and have a good day at work.” She hung up in a flurry of pots and purpose. The room went quiet again, except for my pulse doing cardio. I flopped back and stared at the ceiling.They were uninspiring and reminded me to call my Boss and show up at work immediately or risk lateness. By seven-fifteen, the apartment smelled like coffee and ambition. Priya was already awake, at the counter in a blouse that meant business, and earrings that meant war. “I’m out” I scream at her while rushing out.“Go,” Priya responded, “I’ll text you lunch options you’ll ignore.” My phone chimed with a calendar alert:The Vald Strategy-11:00 a.m. Another chime, Neha-“Reminder: Cross moved the timeline for implementation. Bring receipts.” I swallowed. Another from Admin, Rockstones and bridge are on their way for consultation. Focus I told myself as I slump in my car ready to tackle the rest of my day. My phone buzzed again in my hand. Unknown number. No preview. I frowned and thumbed it open. For a heartbeat I thought it might be Ethan, a follow-up to last night. But the number was unfamiliar, no name, no photo, just raw digits. Like the one I had ignored from last week. I quickly sat up as I tapped the notification open and almost dropped my phone. It read again, “Stay away from Cross Development or your family's name would be dragged in the mud.” The words were plain, but they detonated like fireworks in a library. My pulse thrashed in my ears. Stay away? My Family’s name? The hospital smell was still in my hair, my father’s dire health condition still hanged like a dark cloud over my head and now this? I clutched the phone like evidence. For half a second, I considered showing my boss the screen,when i got to work, but instinct slammed the brakes. If I said it aloud, it would be real. I shoved the phone into my blazer pocket at work and pretended my hands weren’t shaking. The morning suddenly felt sharper, as my thoughts raced faster. Who would threaten me? Did Cross see me in the alley? Was the envelope about Vald? About me? Was he shady or innocent in all these? I began to wonder about the Vald publicityproblem. Was he truly gentrifying the community without consent and bribing the city officials to build Vald, a luxury estate? After all, I just witnessed him giving someone an envelope. It didn't exactly inspire a vote of confidence in him or make me feel any better that I was on the verge of stooping low to ask for his help. After consultations at work I decided to pay him a casual visit. He was the only one I could trust, to discuss the content from the unknown number. But first i had to branch the pharmacy at the hospital to get a prescription refill for my Dad. As I crossed the lobby, I spotted Dr. Lucas Morgan at the far end, crouched to tie the shoelace of a tiny elderly patient who giggled like a schoolgirl. He handed her a tissue and said something that made her laugh louder. He was breathtaking even in fluorescent light. Calm, kind, the kind of man who remembered birthdays without Facebook reminders. He didn’t see me, and I didn't linger, but the image stuck like a warm fingerprint. By the time I reached the street outside Cross Development, it was getting dark, but i knew he was still at the office as he had not objected when i told him i was coming over. The warning text throbbed at the back of my mind. My career and wellbeing now depended on facing Zane Cross. My family’s reputation was suddenly a weapon in someone else’s hand. And Ethan’s confession still burned under my skin like an ember refusing to die. I pulled my phone from my pocket for one last look before heading in. The message was still there, stark against the screen, daring me to make my move and i did.
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