The clinking sound of ceramic against the kitchen sink was the only noise filling the quiet space between them. Keira stood with her back to him, her silhouette bathed in the warm kitchen light. Her shoulders looked lighter than before, but the weight in her eyes hadn't left completely—not yet.
JC watched her for a moment, coffee cooling untouched in his mug. His hands twitched slightly on the table, restless. The silence stretched between them like a bridge half-built, daring someone to take the first step.
He stood.
Quietly, slowly, he walked toward her. One step. Then another. Until he stood right behind her.
His hands found her waist.
Without a word, he slid his arms around her, palms pressing flat against her stomach, holding her gently but firmly. Her body tensed—just a flicker—but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, frozen in place, like she was afraid that moving would make the moment shatter.
Her breath caught. One of the mugs nearly slipped from her hand. JC felt her heartbeat quicken beneath his touch.
That was all the permission he needed.
He leaned in, lips brushing the curve of her neck. He kissed her there—soft, slow, like a prayer. Her scent, familiar and comforting, filled his lungs. Vanilla and lavender. And something else that was just... her.
A soft sound escaped her lips. A quiet moan.
He pressed another kiss against her skin, then another, trailing up the side of her neck. His hands didn’t move. They stayed at her waist, holding her like she was something precious he didn’t know how to let go of.
He turned her gently.
She looked at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Vulnerable. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t say a word. Their eyes locked.
And then their lips met.
The kiss was everything and nothing they remembered. It was soft but urgent, tender but aching. Their mouths moved in perfect sync, like muscle memory taking over, fueled by months of silence and longing.
He deepened the kiss slowly, giving her time to stop him, to say no. But she didn’t. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips moved against his with equal hunger.
“I missed you,” JC murmured between kisses. “I missed this.”
He kissed her again. “I missed us.”
Every time they parted, he whispered those words like a lifeline. Keira didn’t respond with words, but her kisses grew more desperate, more sure. It was in the way her fingers gripped his shirt, in the way her body melted into his. She didn’t have to say it.
He knew.
Before he could stop himself, he scooped her into his arms. Her soft gasp warmed his ear as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands clutching his shoulders.
He carried her upstairs, each step familiar. The house was dim and quiet, save for the echo of their hurried breaths. He paused at her bedroom door, fumbling for her keys. She chuckled, breathless.
“Still a thief,” she whispered.
JC smirked. “Only for the things that matter.”
He found the key tucked in the pocket of her uniform pants and managed to unlock the door without breaking their kiss.
Inside, everything smelled like her. The curtains fluttered gently with the breeze, the bed perfectly made—until he laid her down on it.
They undressed each other slowly. Buttons, zippers, soft fabrics—all fell away until there was nothing left between them. Nothing to shield them from each other, or from the feelings they both buried too long.
His lips trailed from her collarbone to her shoulder, then down to her chest. Her fingers tangled in his hair as her breath hitched, her body arching into him. Every sound she made was music to him, every sigh and whisper a reminder of what they once had—and what they might still have.
He kissed down her belly, each inch of skin a familiar path. Her hands trembled on his back, nails grazing lightly.
When he returned to her lips, she pulled him in without hesitation.
They made love slowly, like they had all the time in the world. It wasn’t just passion—it was something more. A connection rekindled. An understanding shared in silence.
Their bodies moved in sync, guided by memory, by emotion, by something deeper than either of them could name.
Keira's voice, soft and breathless, called his name in the dark.
And when they finally reached that peak together—hearts racing, breaths tangled—it felt like coming home.
After, they lay tangled in the sheets. The room was silent again, but it felt different now. Not hollow. Not tense. Just quiet.
JC held her close, his hand resting on her waist, her head on his chest. Her hair tickled his chin. His heart was still beating fast, but not from exertion.
From hope.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
She was here.
He was here.
Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t as broken as they thought.