The summer heat was lazy, sticking to Talia's skin like a second layer. Campus had thinned out—students had either gone home, fled to internships, or collapsed into post-exam recovery mode.
But Talia stayed. Ezra stayed.
And in the stillness, something between them had settled.
Not the burning chaos they began with, not the aching uncertainty of what they were or weren't. This was steadier, like the way the sun rose without question.
They had become part of each other's routines—coffee in the morning, shared Spotify playlists during late-night study sessions, random forehead kisses, and matching toothbrushes in Ezra's bathroom drawer.
Love wasn't loud anymore.
It was a rhythm. A constant.
Until the knock on the door that wasn't supposed to come.
—
Talia opened the door barefoot, hair tied in a messy knot, Ezra's oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.
At first, she didn't recognize the girl standing there.
Long black braid. A tank top that didn't try too hard. Sneakers scuffed at the toes.
Then came the voice.
"Hey… is Ezra here?"
And Talia's heart sank.
Maya.
The ex. The one Ezra rarely mentioned. The one who ghosted him.
She remembered now. Maya had been a ghost in their relationship—never spoken of in full, just fragments: a classmate-turned-something, a breakup Ezra once described as "quiet and messy, like a wound you don't realize is bleeding."
Talia crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how bare her legs were. "He's not here right now."
Maya looked surprised. "Oh. I… I thought he might be. We used to live near here. I forgot he moved."
Talia stepped into the threshold. "What do you want?"
Maya blinked. "I'm not here to cause drama, if that's what you're thinking. I just… I heard about his dad. I wanted to say I'm sorry."
Something in Talia's jaw tensed. "You could've sent a message."
"I tried," Maya said. "He didn't respond."
"Then maybe take the hint."
Maya's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you always this charming?"
Talia didn't flinch. "Only when ghosts show up uninvited."
There was a long silence.
Then Maya said, "He told me once that you were the kind of person who doesn't care what anyone thinks. I guess he wasn't lying."
"Not about that," Talia said. "Or about how done he is with the past."
Maya's face softened—just a flicker. "Tell him I came by. Or don't. I just needed to see he was okay."
And with that, she walked off.
Talia stood there for a long time before shutting the door.
Her heart was thudding, not from jealousy—but from something older. Something deeper.
Fear.
—
Later that evening, Ezra returned with two bags of Thai takeout and a tired grin.
"Hey," he said, dropping the bags. "You're not gonna believe the traffic—"
"She came by," Talia cut in.
Ezra froze mid-step. "Who?"
"Maya."
His lips parted. Then closed.
Talia crossed her arms again. "She said she heard about your dad. Wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I didn't ask her to."
"I know."
He took a careful step forward. "What did she say?"
"That she tried to message you."
"I left her on read."
"And why didn't you tell me she might show up?"
"I didn't know she would."
Talia swallowed. Her voice dropped. "But would you have wanted her to?"
Ezra looked stunned. "Talia, no. I—God, no. She's my past. You're not a replacement. You're home."
"Then why does it still feel like she's a crack in the wall?"
He crossed the room and gently touched her arm. "Because you're scared I'll leave. Just like I'm scared you'll realize I'm not enough for you."
"You're enough," she whispered. "You've always been enough."
Ezra's shoulders dropped with relief. "Then believe me when I say this: she came back, but I never left. Not from us."
Talia closed her eyes and nodded. The storm inside her slowed.
"I believe you," she said.
Ezra pulled her in then, held her like she was made of lightning and soft skies.
—
The next day, Talia did something she rarely did: she showed up to therapy.
She'd been skipping sessions again. Telling herself she didn't need it. But the truth was, even love couldn't fix all the cracks. And not every ghost was someone else's.
"I saw his ex," she told the therapist. "And it scared me."
"Because she was there?"
"Because she was there. And I've been her. I've been the girl who walked away from something good. Who didn't know how to stay."
Her therapist leaned in gently. "And now?"
Talia smiled faintly. "Now I know that staying is a choice. And I'm making it every day."
—
Later that week, Ezra surprised her again.
He took her to a bookstore downtown. Nothing fancy. Secondhand, full of strange titles and cozy corners.
In the middle of the poetry section, he handed her a small blue notebook.
"What's this?"
He smiled. "Something I've been writing in. Notes. Thoughts. Letters to you. You don't have to read them now. Or ever. Just… I want you to have them."
Talia held the book close. "You're so damn sentimental."
Ezra laughed. "It's how I survive you."
She leaned in. "You're my person, Ezra. Even when it's messy. Especially then."
And as they stood among the books, the quiet stories, the forgotten authors—Talia realized something.
The past would always knock.
But it didn't have to live in the present.
She had love.
She had choice.
And most of all—she had a future that finally looked like hers.