Ali woke to the smell of coffee.
For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. But when she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she found Ray standing at her doorway, holding two steaming mugs in his hands. His hair was still a mess, his shirt rumpled, and his smile was sleepy but real.
“Morning,” he said softly.
She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “You made coffee?”
“I figured it was my turn,” Ray said, stepping into the room and setting one mug on her bedside table. “Don’t worry, I didn’t burn it.”
Ali laughed quietly, picking up the cup. The warmth seeped into her hands, grounding her. She took a sip and sighed. “Okay, not bad. You’re learning.”
Ray sat on the edge of her bed, his knee brushing against her leg. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
She blinked at him, still half-drowsy. “You really expect me to have a plan? I don’t even know what day it is.”
“Third day,” he said without hesitation. His gaze lingered on her, unreadable. “Feels like I’ve been here longer, though.”
Ali’s heart stuttered at the weight of his words. She forced a small smile. “In a good way, I hope.”
Ray’s lips curved. “Yeah. In the best way.”
After breakfast, Ali took him to the weekend market downtown. The streets were alive with chatter, the smell of grilled food and roasted coffee beans wafting through the air. Bright stalls sold everything from handmade crafts to fresh fruit.
Ray walked beside her, taking everything in with wide-eyed curiosity. He pointed out trinkets, teased her into trying free samples, and even bargained with one of the vendors for a bracelet he claimed matched her perfectly.
When he tied it around her wrist, his fingers lingered against her skin longer than necessary. Ali’s breath caught, her pulse hammering under his touch.
“There,” Ray said, his voice softer now. “Looks better on you than on the table.”
Ali looked down at the simple braided bracelet, then back up at him. Her chest tightened with something she didn’t dare name. “Thanks,” she whispered.
They wandered the market until the sun grew hotter, eventually stopping at a small café tucked in the corner of a quiet street. Sitting across from each other, they talked about everything and nothing—movies they wanted to watch, songs that reminded them of late-night calls, stupid inside jokes that had carried them through years of distance.
But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent—an awareness that every smile, every glance lasted a second too long.
Back at the house, the heat of the day made everything feel slower. Ali collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, fanning herself with a magazine. Ray sprawled beside her, one arm draped casually along the backrest, dangerously close to her shoulders.
“You’re melting,” he teased, nudging her with his knee.
“So are you,” she shot back, refusing to move away.
They ended up watching TV again, though neither paid much attention. At some point, Ali shifted and found herself leaning into him, her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. Ray didn’t move away. If anything, he adjusted so she fit against him more comfortably.
The quiet stretched on, heavy but not suffocating. Ali closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, but every nerve in her body was acutely aware of him—his warmth, his scent, the rise and fall of his chest.
“Ali,” Ray said suddenly, his voice low.
Her eyes snapped open. “Yeah?”
He hesitated, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for hers. “Do you ever think about what happens after this?”
She froze. The question lodged in her chest like a stone.
“After… what?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“After I go home,” he said. His gaze was fixed on the muted TV, but his jaw was tense. “After this week ends. What happens to us then?”
Ali’s throat tightened. She had thought about it—too many times. The looming end of his visit was a shadow that followed her every moment, threatening to steal the joy out of their time together. But she didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to put into words the fear of losing him after finally having him here.
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Ray finally looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “Maybe we should.”
Her pulse quickened. There was something in his expression—something raw, unguarded—that made it impossible to look away. She swallowed hard. “Ray…”
He leaned in slightly, close enough that she could feel his breath. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She couldn’t find the words—couldn’t say yes, couldn’t say no. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Ray’s gaze flicked down to her mouth, then back up. His hand lifted, hesitating before brushing lightly against her cheek. Ali’s breath hitched, her body going rigid.
But before anything more could happen, the shrill buzz of her phone shattered the moment.
Ali jerked back, scrambling to grab it off the coffee table. “H-hello?”
Ray dropped his hand, leaning back with a strained smile as she answered. The call was short—her cousin asking about plans for the weekend—but by the time she hung up, the fragile moment had slipped away, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before.
Dinner that night was quiet. Ray seemed lost in thought, his usual teasing absent. Ali tried to act normal, cracking a few jokes, but her laughter felt forced.
When they retreated to her room later, the air was thick with everything unsaid. They each climbed into their separate beds, the distance between them suddenly unbearable.
Ali lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Ray shifting restlessly across the room. She wanted to say something—to bridge the gap before it grew wider—but fear kept her still.
Finally, she heard him whisper.
“Ali?”
Her breath caught. “Yeah?”
There was a pause, then: “Goodnight.”
Ali closed her eyes, her chest aching. “Goodnight,” she whispered back.
