Mira couldn't sleep.
The word almost haunted her—taunting her with what could've been. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the ghost of Noah's breath against her lips. The sound of her name, shouted just seconds too soon, echoed like a cruel punchline.
She kept her distance the next day. Her responses were short, her steps hurried. She buried herself in house chores, in grocery lists, in anything that didn't wear blue eyes and a crooked grin.
Noah noticed.
At lunch, he tried to catch her gaze, but she refused to meet it. Her mother, ever the keen observer, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
By evening, Mira escaped to the balcony, pretending to fold dry laundry just so she could be alone.
Except she wasn't alone for long.
"Are we pretending yesterday didn't happen?" Noah's voice broke the silence.
She didn't turn to him. "Nothing happened."
"That's not true."
Mira exhaled sharply. "You don't get to barge into my life, ruin my career, kiss me almost—and act like it's all part of some grand plan."
"I didn't mean to ruin anything," he said gently. "And I didn't plan on falling—" He stopped himself.
She turned then, arms folded tightly over her chest. "Say it. You didn't plan on what?"
He hesitated, eyes flickering with hesitation and something deeper. "On falling for you."
Her breath hitched.
"Noah…"
"I know it's messy. I know we started off with everything wrong. But Mira, something changed. You changed me."
The words landed heavy, anchoring themselves in the hollow space inside her chest.
She wanted to let go.
But her walls weren't built overnight. And they wouldn't crumble for a single confession.
"I can't do this," she said, voice shaking. "Not when I'm still piecing myself together."
"I'm not asking you to be perfect," he said. "I'm asking you to stop running."
She turned her back to him, tears burning behind her eyes. "Maybe you should go, Noah."
Silence.
Then his footsteps—slow, reluctant—retreated into the house.
And when Mira finally let the tears fall, the night swallowed the sound. Because sometimes, breaking distance hurt more than falling apart.
But the space between them wasn't empty.
It was charged.
And far from over.