If I Stayed | Christian Yu

CHAPTER FIVE

Why does he still get to me like this?

She hated that she noticed the little things. How quiet he'd gone. How he couldn't look at her when Fabian mentioned the song.
How he left for tour without saying goodbye.
How she didn't ask him to stay.

Her chest tightened.

She closed her eyes.

"You're fine," she whispered to herself. "You're fine. He's just a friend. You're engaged."

But even she didn't believe herself.

She finally reached for the wine, hands colder than before, eyes fixed on the label like it might give her clarity she couldn't find in her own thoughts.

And that's when she heard it.

Soft footsteps.

Her body went still.

She didn't turn around. She didn't need to.

She already knew who it was.

Her heart was beating too loud.

~

[Christian.]

He didn't plan to follow her.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

But the second Aaliyah stood from the table and headed toward the kitchen, something in his body moved before his mind could catch up. He waited a few seconds, just enough not to look obvious, then pushed back his chair and slipped out of the room.

He stepped into the kitchen quietly.

She was already there, back turned, one hand resting on the counter.

She didn't say anything.

Didn't move.

But her shoulders were tense, like she could feel the shift in the air. Like she knew it was him.

He stood still for a second, not sure what he was expecting. Maybe she'd turn around. Maybe she'd smile.

She didn't.

The light above the sink gave off a low hum. The kitchen smelled like rosemary and something warm and sweet. It was quiet. Too quiet. Almost sacred.

"You okay?" he asked, softer than he meant to.

Her answer didn't come right away. Just a slow exhale, like the weight on her chest had followed her into the room.

"Yeah. Just... needed a second."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see it.

"Same."

He took a few careful steps closer. Not too close. Just enough to feel her presence more fully. Enough for the memory of them to settle between the cabinets and countertops.

"Didn't know your mom still had that towel," he said after a beat, glancing toward the faded navy one hanging off the drawer. "Figured it would've been gone by now."

There was a pause.

Then finally, she turned to face him.

And when their eyes met, something in his chest dropped.

"My mom tried to throw it out once," she said.

He looked at her, curious.

"I told her no."

"Why?"

Her gaze lowered for a second before lifting again.

"Didn't want to get rid of everything that reminded me of you."

The words hit harder than anything else she could've said. And maybe she hadn't meant to say them out loud, because her voice cracked just a little at the end. Barely. But he heard it.

Christian swallowed.

"Aaliyah..."

"Don't," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. "Please. Not yet."

His throat felt tight.

"You think I can actually write that song?"

She looked at him again. And this time her eyes were clear. Heavy. Honest.

"You shouldn't have to."

There was pain in her voice. Like she already knew he would do it. Like that was the problem.

"But I will," he said. "If that's what you want."

Another pause. This one longer.

Then, she moved past him. Quiet. Careful.

Her shoulder brushed his, just enough to set off sparks under his skin.

She opened the cabinet, pulled out two wine glasses, and didn't look back when she spoke.

"Let's go back before anyone notices we're gone."

And then she was gone.

Leaving him in the middle of the kitchen with a heartbeat too loud and a hundred things he couldn't say...

Phew, if you were Christian, would you write her the song? 👀