The Taste of Moving On

Chapter Five

Maya’s POV

“Stop telling me to move on, Clara! You think it’s that easy? You think I can just erase him like he never touched me, like he never ruined me?”

The words came out sharp and raw, louder than I meant. My cousin’s eyes widened, and for a second the kitchen went quiet except for the hum of the fridge. Clara had been leaning against the counter with her coffee, but now she set the mug down slowly, like she was afraid to set me off even more.

“I didn’t say it was easy,” she said carefully. “I said you deserve better. And he’s not coming back, Maya.”

The ache in my chest twisted, and I pressed my hands against the countertop just to keep myself steady. I hated it when she said that. Not because it wasn’t true, but because part of me wanted it not to be.

Clara moved closer, her voice softer now. “He hurt you. We all saw it. And if you keep holding onto him, you’re just going to bleed longer.”

I blinked hard and grabbed my bag from the chair. “I have work. I don’t have time for this.”

She sighed but didn’t push further. Clara always meant well, but she didn’t understand. Nobody did. They hadn’t felt the way Alvarez could look at me one moment like I was the only girl in the world, and then rip me apart the next. They hadn’t felt the way my heart broke when I finally realised he wasn’t going to change.

I walked fast to the café, needing the distraction of routine. The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside, and the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon wrapped around me. This place was my safe ground. My escape.

“Morning, Maya,” called Becca, my friend and coworker, already tying her apron behind the counter.

“Morning,” I managed with a small smile.

We started the morning rush, and for a while I lost myself in it — the sound of the espresso machine hissing, the clatter of cups, the steady stream of customers ordering their usuals. It was busy, but in a way that kept my mind from spinning.

Then Ethan walked in.

Tall, clean cut, dressed in a simple shirt that somehow fit him too well. He had that easy kind of charm, the type that didn’t feel like he was trying too hard. The first time he’d come in, I’d thought nothing of it. Just another face. But lately, I caught myself noticing him.

“Hey, Maya,” he said with a smile that reached his eyes. “The usual.”

I nodded, trying not to let my cheeks warm. “Coming right up.”

As I moved behind the counter, I felt Becca nudge me lightly with her elbow. “He likes you,” she whispered, grinning.

“Stop,” I muttered, focusing on the machine.

“I’m serious. He looks at you like you hung the moon. You should let him take you out.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that.”

“Not yet,” she teased.

When I handed Ethan his coffee, his fingers brushed mine for a second longer than they needed to. My chest tightened, but not in the same way it used to with Alvarez. It was lighter, safer, but also unfamiliar.

“Thanks,” he said, his smile soft. “You look… brighter today.”

The words caught me off guard. For a heartbeat, I almost believed him.

After he left, Clara walked in to meet me for lunch. She spotted the empty cup Ethan had left on the table and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s him,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just coffee.”

“Maya, please. I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you tried not to look back.”

I picked at my sandwich, not meeting her gaze. “Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t matter. I’m not ready.”

Clara reached across the table, her hand warm on mine. “No one’s telling you to marry the guy. Just… let yourself feel something that doesn’t hurt.”

Her words settled in me like a stone in water, sinking slowly. Maybe she was right. Maybe Ethan wasn’t a fix, but a reminder that I could still smile, that I could still be seen.

But later that night, when I was alone in my room, the weight of Alvarez returned. His shadow stretched long, even with Ethan’s smile still fresh in my mind.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing in. I thought about the way Alvarez used to whisper my name when no one else was around. The way his hand fit against mine even when everything else felt wrong.

And I hated him for it. Hated that even now, even after everything, part of me still wanted him to come back.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, but when I picked it up, it was just Clara sending me a funny video. I laughed, but it faded quickly.

Because the truth was, no matter how much I tried, no matter how much Ethan made me smile, Alvarez’s ghost was still in the room with me.

And I didn’t know how to let him go.