Chapter 37

It wasn't easy at first, finding the balance between closeness and space. There were days when the adjustment felt awkward—when I found myself craving his company but also resenting how much we'd grown to rely on each other. Xander, too, had his moments. There were times when he would go silent, eyes distant as if he were thinking about something he couldn't quite place, and I'd feel the space between us stretch wider.

But little by little, we found our rhythm again. We'd take separate mornings—he'd go for a run while I stayed behind, journaling or reading, giving ourselves a bit of time apart to breathe before we reunited. Evenings were still ours, though. We'd cook together, laugh at stupid things, and occasionally bicker over the smallest details—who gets to pick the movie, whether to order takeout or actually cook dinner, what we were going to do on the weekend. Those small, mundane moments still felt like the most important parts of my day.

But, as with everything, there were moments when too much of each other still crept back in.

It was a Friday night, and we'd had a particularly exhausting week—meetings, deadlines, personal commitments, the whole package. Xander had been working late every night on a new design project for a client, and I'd been stuck in the office most of the day, trying to finalize a presentation. By the time we both got home, the apartment felt suffocating. We were tired, grumpy, and strangely too close in the worst way possible.

"I'm just saying," Xander said from the kitchen, his voice a little too sharp for my liking, "if you'd put the dishes away last night, we wouldn't be dealing with this now."

I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to calm myself down after an aggravating phone call with a client, but the tension in the air made it worse. "Well, maybe I was too tired to deal with them last night! Ever think of that?"

He snapped the cupboard door closed a little harder than necessary, and I felt a flash of irritation. This isn't the time for this, I thought. Just take a step back.

"Fine," he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping in frustration. "I'm not going to argue about dishes. I'm too tired for this."

I pushed my chair back, standing up and turning toward him. "Then let's not argue," I said quietly. "Maybe we need some space from each other tonight. Just… go to your side of the couch, and I'll stay on mine."

There was a long pause as he looked at me, something flickering in his eyes—hurt, confusion, maybe a little embarrassment. But it passed quickly, and he simply nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, his voice a little softer now. "We've been on top of each other all week. I think we both need to cool off."

I gave him a small smile, though it felt a little strained. "I think I'd rather cool off on my own tonight."

With a heavy sigh, Xander grabbed his laptop from the counter, and I retreated to the bedroom with my book. It wasn't a huge deal, but it felt like one of those moments when we realized how too much of each other could start to strain things. But it wasn't a bad thing—it was just a reminder that we were two individuals, and we didn't need to share every single moment.

The night passed quietly. We both retreated into our respective worlds, the quiet hum of the apartment now a little more comfortable. I could hear the soft click of his keyboard in the living room, and I felt the gentle flicker of the reading light beside my bed.

By the time the silence had settled around us, I realized how much better it felt not to be constantly in each other's space. We didn't need to fill every silence with chatter, and we didn't need to share every moment to make it count.

The next morning, we met in the kitchen—still a little tired but a little lighter, too.

"I think we needed that," Xander said, his voice warm but low, as if testing the waters.

"Yeah," I said, grabbing the coffee pot and filling our mugs. "A little time apart. It's… it's a good thing."

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips. "I agree. It's funny—when we started living together, I thought we'd need more of each other to make it work. But turns out… it's about finding the right balance."

"Exactly," I replied, leaning against the counter. "We need to give each other space to grow, even when we're in the same place."

Xander took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Right. It's not about being perfect, Maya. It's about understanding that we're two people. We don't always need to do everything together to make it work."

I smiled, a real, relaxed smile. "I'm glad you get it."

He reached across the counter and gave my hand a quick squeeze. "I think I'm starting to figure it out."

We shared a quiet moment, each of us savoring the stillness of the morning. Maybe the space we'd created between us wasn't something we needed to fill. Maybe it was something we both needed to keep.

And, for the first time in a long time, I felt like we'd finally figured it out. Together, yet apart. Just enough to make it work.