For a few fleeting days,  

Evan lived as if the world had paused just for him.  

Work was still work—  

the endless meetings, the deadlines, the calls—  

but when the day ended, he had somewhere to go.  

Sienna’s apartment had stopped being a quiet, polished space.  

It had become *home*.  

They didn’t do anything grand.  

Most evenings passed in small, simple ways:  

Takeout meals spread across the coffee table.  

Sometimes he cooked—  

simple dishes, clumsy but warm.  

They watched movies,  

sometimes in silence,  

sometimes trading quiet remarks that faded into laughter.  

It was ordinary.  

And yet, to Evan, it felt extraordinary.  

There were small touches, too.  

Her head resting lightly on his shoulder.  

A hand brushing his arm.  

An unplanned kiss that lingered a second too long.  

But nothing more than that.  

There was desire, yes—  

but he never asked for more.  

Just being beside her felt enough,  

a kind of peace he hadn’t known before.  

At night, he wrote again in his little notebook—  

the “restaurant plan.”  

But this time, the words weren’t just about him.  

They were about *her*.  

He imagined her sitting by the window of that future place,  

eating quietly, laughing—  

no makeup, no masks,  

just sunlight and the smell of warm food.  

Every time he wrote,  

his heart felt strangely full.  

But time doesn’t pause,  

no matter how much he wanted it to.  

A few days later,  

the bruises had faded.  

Sienna stood before the mirror,  

perfect makeup, sleek heels,  

that same polished calm returning to her face.  

“It’s time to go back to work,” she said softly.  

Evan stood by the door,  

his chest tightening.  

Those quiet evenings had blurred his sense of reality.  

Now she was stepping back into a world of noise and neon,  

and he could feel her slipping away again.  

But he didn’t protest.  

Didn’t plead.  

He simply stepped forward  

and held her close.  

“Take care of yourself,” he murmured.  

It was simple.  

But it carried everything he wanted to say.  

Sienna didn’t reply—  

just nodded once.  

The door opened.  

A draft of cold air swept in.  

Her heels clicked down the hall,  

each sound fainter than the last.  

Evan stayed where he was,  

watching the empty doorway,  

his chest full of warmth and ache  

in equal measure.