The hum of the engine filled the space between them, low and steady, like a heartbeat in the dark. Keira sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, even though JC was doing the driving. Neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered by, casting glints on the windshield, then disappearing like ghosts in the rearview mirror.
It had been months. And yet, here they were—together again. Not because of fate or forgiveness, but because of Carl. Because JC still had the instinct to protect her… even after everything.
When the car rolled into the familiar driveway, Keira's breath caught.
This house.
Their house.
She didn’t move. Her hand hovered over the door handle, frozen. The silence returned, louder this time—echoing in her chest, rattling in her ribs. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if she should even go in. But before she could make a decision, JC broke the stillness.
“I thought you two were over,” he said, voice low and sharp. “And that you made it clear to him. Or were you just giving him false hope?”
The words stung more than she expected. After months of nothing—no calls, no texts, not even a whisper—that was what he wanted to ask her?
“I did,” Keira replied, her tone clipped, controlled. “He just keeps coming back to the hospital. I never asked for this.”
“Hm. K.” His response was short. Almost dismissive.
She stared out the window for a second longer before finally turning to him. “Ahhm… would you like some midnight coffee?”
JC simply nodded.
That was all it took. Keira stepped out of the car, walked up to the front door like it wasn’t a monument of memories and regrets, and unlocked it. She held the door open for him without looking back, feeling his presence close behind.
In the kitchen, nothing much had changed. The espresso machine JC had bought still sat in the corner, stainless and untouched. She busied herself with the task—grinding beans, pressing buttons, filling the silence with the comforting clatter of routine.
“When did you come back?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the machine.
“Two weeks ago.”
Her hands stilled for a beat. Two weeks. He had been back for two whole weeks and said nothing. No messages. No visits. He really hadn’t changed.
“I see,” she said quietly, resuming her work.
Once the coffee was done, she poured it into two mismatched mugs—one with a chip on the rim, the other bearing a faded slogan from one of their old beach trips. She placed them on the table and sat down across from him.
No words. Just silence.
The kitchen was quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The bitterness of the coffee clung to her tongue, grounding her.
They sat like that for a few minutes, letting the silence stretch and settle between them like a third person in the room.
When she finally stood to clean up, JC didn’t move. Keira walked to the sink and began rinsing the mugs, water rushing over ceramic like a quiet stream. Her thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of the sudden shift, trying to remind herself that this didn’t mean anything—that JC being here tonight didn’t rewrite the past.
But then, out of nowhere, she felt him.
His arms wrapped around her from behind—slowly, gently—but firm enough to steal her breath. His chin rested near her shoulder, his warmth instantly surrounding her. Keira froze. The mug slipped slightly in her grip, clinking against the sink.
Her heartbeat surged. And with it, the memories.
The one night and kisses they shared before he left the house and didn't come back
The last kiss they shared before he left again the moment they met. 
And the heartbreak.
Keira closed her eyes, trying to keep her balance—not just physically, but emotionally. It had been so long since she felt him this close. Too long. Her body remembered the feel of him, the comfort, the safety. But her heart… her heart remembered the ache.
Still, she didn’t pull away.
She just stood there, letting herself feel it.
Just for a moment.
“JC…” she whispered, not sure what she was going to say next or what she will do.
But he didn’t speak. He only held her tighter.
And in that fragile moment—between the weight of what they were and the silence of what they’d become—Keira allowed herself to feel again.
Even if it was just for tonight.