Penelope

I stared out the window, my gaze distant as I watched the bustling streets below. The city was alive with movement, but I felt frozen, stuck in a moment that had passed long ago. My hand still tingled from his touch, the warmth of his skin lingering like a ghost. It had been so long since I'd felt that kind of affection, and I couldn't help but bring my hand to my chest, my heart racing. Those blue eyes of his—so kind, so full of love—had shaken my resolve. Would my late lover want me to be happy? Could I even allow myself to be?

My gaze drifted to the photo on my side table, the one of him and me. His sun-kissed skin seemed to glow even in the dim light, and his soft eyes, like pools of black, always made me feel safe. He was so much larger than me, his presence strong and steady, and I'd always felt like nothing could hurt me when I was with him. I picked up the photo, my fingers trembling, and realized too late that my tears were falling onto the glass. I gripped it tighter, as if I could somehow bring him back, before setting it down again.

He used to tease me about how I ugly cried, but now I felt like I was truly living up to that. How could I laugh, smile, or even breathe without him? Who would hug me when I was sad, rub my back in soothing circles, or wipe my tears when I cried? He was gone, and here I was, letting someone else into my life. The guilt was unbearable. I curled up on the bed, pulling the warm blanket around me, but no amount of warmth could chase away the cold emptiness inside me. The pillow still smelled faintly of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint scent of rain, and it only made the ache in my chest sharper.

I buried my face in the pillow, my body shaking with sobs. The room was dark, the silence suffocating, and I felt so alone. 'I need you,' I whispered, my voice breaking. 'I can't do this without you.' But there was no answer, no comforting embrace, no soothing words. Just the empty space beside me, a reminder of what I'd lost.

I was trying to move on, but it was so hard when I saw him in everything—in the way the sunlight caught the edge of a glass, in the sound of laughter echoing down the street, in the quiet moments when I least expected it. I didn't know how to let go, how to live without him. And yet, I didn't know how to stay trapped in this grief forever.

The next day was far from easy. For one, my eyes were puffy from all the crying, and no amount of makeup was going to fix that completely. I was slow to get out of bed, dragging myself to the bathroom to make myself somewhat presentable. After a few touches, I looked decent enough. My long hair, which reached past my butt, was brushed and smooth, and my skin had a soft glow from the shower. The scent of honey and vanilla lingered on my skin, a comforting reminder of the small rituals that kept me grounded. Even with my nose and cheeks still slightly red from crying, I couldn't deny that I felt a little pretty today. A bit of blush and mascara went a long way.

My outfit was the perfect mix of elegant and comfy—a long maxi skirt and a snug long-sleeved shirt. I grabbed my bag and headed out, determined to face the day. After hours of work at the office, I finally stopped by the café on my way home, the thought of a warm drink and a sweet treat pulling me in.

The café was a haven, its rich aroma of coffee and baked goods immediately lifting the stress from my shoulders. The interior was cozy, with warm browns and neutral tones that gave it a teddy bear-like feel. I ordered a small cup of hot cocoa and a slice of vanilla cake, then found a seat by the window. The warmth of the cocoa seeped through the cup, soothing my fingers, and the first sip was pure comfort—rich, velvety, and perfect. The cake was soft and sweet, a delightful contrast to the deep chocolate flavor of the drink.

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the simple pleasure of it all. The café was alive with soft chatter, the clinking of cups, and the hum of the espresso machine. It was a small escape, a reminder that life could still have moments of sweetness, even when everything felt heavy. But as I sat there, watching people pass by outside, I couldn't help but wonder if he would've liked this place. Would he have ordered the same thing, or would he have teased me for my sweet tooth? The thought brought a bittersweet smile to my face, and I took another sip of cocoa, letting its warmth chase away the chill that lingered in my chest. 

I looked up to see him standing in line—Luke, the man with the tall, broad-shouldered figure, his blue eyes that seemed to see everything, and that porcelain skin that made him look like he was always cold. The man who had held my hand the other day, who had comforted me without asking for anything in return. When he saw me, he smiled, and for a moment, I could almost see my lover in him. I smiled back, guilt twisting in my chest.

The warm cocoa in my hands suddenly felt too hot, the sweetness of the cake cloying on my tongue. I set the cup down, my fingers trembling slightly, and tried to steady my breathing. Luke was so different from him—his blue eyes instead of dark, his porcelain skin instead of sun-kissed. But there was a kindness in his gaze that reminded me of the way my lover used to look at me, and it made my heart ache.

As he approached, I felt a strange mix of emotions—guilt, longing, and something else I couldn't quite name. He slid into the seat across from me, his smile warm and genuine. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The café suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, and I couldn't tell if it was because of his presence or the weight of my own emotions. I wanted to tell him to leave, to let me grieve in peace, but at the same time, I didn't want to be alone. The contradiction tore at me, and I looked down at my hand unsure of what to say.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

"I've been… well," I replied, knowing he'd notice my slightly red and puffy eyes. But he didn't comment, and I was grateful for that.

His gaze shifted to the cup in my hands. "Hot cocoa and cake? No coffee?"

"I don't like coffee all that much," I said, a little defensively. "And it's not like drinking hot cocoa is childish."

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "If you say so."

I'd never been embarrassed about liking hot cocoa before, but now, sitting across from him, I suddenly felt like a child. My cheeks warmed, and I quickly set the cup down, my hands slipping under the table to fidget with the hem of my skirt. I hated how easily he could fluster me, but at the same time, it was… nice. It made me feel alive in a way I hadn't in a long time.

"I didn't say it was childish," he added, his tone teasing but kind. "I just think it's cute."

His words made my face heat up even more, and I looked down at my lap, unsure of how to respond. Part of me wanted to laugh, to play along with his teasing, but another part of me felt a pang of guilt. Was I betraying my late lover by enjoying this moment? By letting someone else make me smile?

"So… what do you do?" I asked, trying to fill the silence.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Do for work? For fun? You need to be more clear."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the small smile that escaped. "I mean in general, of course."

"Just a business owner," he said with a shrug, taking a sip of his coffee. "Nothing crazy."

"Oh, that's nice," I replied, nodding. "I work at an office… it's a bit boring." I tried to keep the conversation going, desperate to avoid the awkward silence that threatened to settle between us. My gaze flickered to his features, and I felt my heart flutter. He looked amazing—his strong, tall build, his blue eyes that seemed to shimmer in the light, and his jet-black hair that caught the sunlight like a raven's wing. He could've been a model.

I quickly looked down at my hands, my cheeks warming at the thought. Was I really getting a crush? It had been so long since I'd felt this way, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. The thought of falling in love again sent a shiver through me. Did I even want to? Should I? My late lover had been my everything, and the idea of replacing him felt like a betrayal. But at the same time, I couldn't deny the way my heart raced when Luke smiled at me

"Just a business owner, huh? That's modest," I said, trying to keep the conversation light. He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What can I say? I like to keep things simple," he replied, his tone easy and relaxed. It was hard not to be drawn to his calm demeanor, but it only made my internal conflict worse. How could I let myself feel this way when my heart still ached for someone else?

"Do you work out?" I blurted out, then immediately wanted to disappear. What kind of question was that? I was digging my own grave with embarrassment. I just couldn't help but notice his muscular build, but that didn't mean I had to say it out loud!

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "...Pardon?"

My face burned, and I quickly looked down at my hands, wishing I could melt into the floor. Why had I asked that? Of all the things to say, why did it have to be that? "Umm… well… never mind," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. I was a blushing mess, and I couldn't believe I'd just asked someone I'd recently met such a personal question. Penelope, you've really done it now!

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. Then, to my horror, he started to laugh—a warm, genuine laugh that made my face heat up even more. "I mean, yeah, I do," he said, still chuckling. "But I wasn't expecting that question."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that."

He leaned back in his chair, his smile softening. "Don't be. It's refreshing to meet someone who's… direct."

I peeked at him through my fingers, unsure if he was teasing me or being serious. Either way, I couldn't deny the way my heart raced when he smiled at me. But at the same time, I felt a pang of guilt. Was I betraying my late lover by feeling this way? By letting someone else make me laugh? For a couple moments I let myself be happy, it's fine, it's not like I'm falling in love so it should be okay, right?