Could this be the beginning?

Nicole had spent the entire weekend avoiding Andrew.

It wasn't easy, but she found ways. Ignoring his texts, pretending not to hear him when he called her name and keeping herself busy with schoolwork that she wasn't even reading properly. The kiss had unsettled her in ways she couldn't explain.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

But it did.

And now, she had no idea how to face him.

Andrew, on the other hand, had been watching, waiting and frustrated.

She wasn't just avoiding him- she was running.

And it drove him crazy.

On Sunday afternoon, Andrew decided to visit his mother and he sat on his motorcycle in front of his house staring at nothing in particular. The street was quiet, the sky a dull shade of gray. He exhaled sharply, gripping the handles tighter as flashbacks of the kiss stayed rent free in his mind.

That was when he saw him.

A man walking down the street in his direction, dressed in a dark coat, hands tucked in his pockets. He had the same sharp features as Andrew, only older, worn out by time.

Andrew's chest tightened. He clenched his jaw. He hadn't seen the man in years, and yet, here he was- walking towards him.

His father.

There was something hesitant in the way he looked at Andrew, something almost like regret.

For a split second, Andrew felt like a kid again, sitting on the front steps of their old apartment, waiting. Waiting for a father who never showed up.

Flashbacks hit him like a storm.

A five-year-old Andrew, clutching his mother's hand, staring at the closed door. "Daddy's just busy, sweetheart," she said forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

A seven-year-old Andrew, sitting by the window for hours watching every car that passed by, hoping one would stop.

An eleven-year-old Andrew, finally realizing the truth- that the man he called "Dad" had left and wasn't coming back.

Andrew's grip on the handles of the motorcycle tightened.

"Andrew," his father finally said, voice lower than he remembered.

Andrew didn't respond.

His father exhaled, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "I know I messed up, son."

Silence.

Andrew's heartbeat was steady and cold. He wasn't a kid anymore, desperate for apologies that meant nothing.

His father shifted uncomfortably." I just… I thought maybe…."

Andrew cut him off with a sharp glare. Then, without a word, he stood up, turned his back, and walked towards the house.

Behind him, his father sighed, lingering for a moment before walking away.

From the corner of his eye, he caught his mother standing by the window. Her expression was unreadable, but the moment their eyes met, she moved.

His mother stepped outside.

She and Andrew's father shared a long stare- silence, tense. It was brief, but Andrew saw it. The slight widening of her eyes, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Andrew's stomach twisted.

"You knew," he muttered.

His mother turned to him. "What?"

"You knew he was coming, didn't you?" his voice was sharp, accusing.

Her expression softened, but she didn't deny it.

"Andrew…"

"Did you call him? After everything, after all these years, did you seriously call him here?" His voice rose, frustration bubbling in his chest.

"I didn't call him," she said quietly. "But I knew he wanted to see you."

Andrew let out a bitter laugh. "Right. And you thought I'd just sit down and have a heart-to-heart conversation with him?"

His mother didn't argue. Instead, she stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Andrew…. You don't have to forgive him, but don't let him control your emotions forever."

Andrew scoffed, shaking his head. "That's the thing, mom. He doesn't."

She simply squeezed his shoulder, as if she knew there was nothing more she could say.

Andrew didn't say another word as he stepped inside, but the tension in his chest refused to leave.

Meanwhile, Nicole sat in her room, phone in hand, staring at the unread messages from Andrew.

She sighed, pressing her fingertips against her forehead. Her mind was restless, full of things she didn't want to think about. The kiss. Her grandmother. Andrew.

Desperate for distraction, she texted her best friend, Violet.

Minutes later, she was sitting in Violet's bedroom, a cup of tea in her hands. Across from her, on Violet's bed was Peter.

"So… you and Andrew?" Violet raised an eyebrow. "What's going on there?"

Nicole groaned. "Nothing."

Violet shot her look.

Nicole sighed. "Okay, something happened but…"

"You kissed."

Nicole choked on her tea. "How did you…."

"Please." Violet smirked. "I know you. And I saw the way you've been acting. Avoiding him like a plague? You only do that when you feel something."

Peter, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. "And what do you feel?"

Nicole hesitated. What did she feel?

Confusion? Nerves? Or something else?

"I don't know." She admitted. "Andrew's not… he's not the type to be in a relationship. And I don't think I can handle that."

Violet sighed. "Maybe you're overthinking. Maybe he's different with you."

Peter leaned back. "Or maybe… he's scared."

Nicole glanced at him. "Scared?"

Peter nodded." Some people struggle with emotions. With connection. Maybe he's one of them."

Nicole fell silent.

Maybe she was just setting herself up for a heartbreak.

Sunday night, Nicole's phone buzzed. It was her mother.

"Come to the hospital. It's important."

She felt the air leave her lungs.

Her father drove in silence. His hands gripping the wheel tightly. Her sister sat in the back with her arms folded. No one spoke.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic. Nicole's heart pounded as they reached the hallway where her grandmother's room was.

The doctor was waiting. So was the rest of the family.

Nicole's mother took her hand, squeezing it gently.

The doctor sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Her condition has worsened significantly."

Nicole felt her throat tighten.

"There's not much we can do," the doctor continued. "We suggest you start preparing."

Her mother inhaled sharply, covering her mouth. Her father stood still; shoulders stiff.

Nicole… just froze while her sister wrapped her arms on her.

She had known this day would come. But knowing and feeling were two completely different things.

Her grandmother had always been a fighter. The strongest woman she knew. But now, she looked so… small. Fragile. Like she was already slipping away.

Nicole reached for her hand, fingers trembling. "Grandma…"

Her grandmother's eyes fluttered open. She smiled weakly. "My sweet girl."

Nicole bit her lip, holding back the tears.

"Don't be sad, my love," her grandmother whispered. "You have so much life ahead of you. So much love to give."

Nicole pressed her forehead against grandmother's hand, letting a single tear slip on her cheek.

She wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Monday.

Andrew was done.

Nicole had ignored him all weekend. At first, he had given her space, but now, it was just pissing him off.

So, when he finally caught her alone after school, he didn't waste time.

"You've been ignoring me."

Nicole stiffened. "I've been busy."

Andrew narrowed his eyes.

She inhaled sharply. "Andrew, I just… I have a lot going on."

"I get that, but why are you avoiding me?"

She swallowed. Because I don't know what to do with you.

Andrew exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not good at this, alright? But I'm not gonna stand here and pretend that nothing happened. Because it did. And it meant something."

Nicole's heart pounded.

Andrew took a step closer, his voice lower. "I don't want to play games. I don't want to pretend. So, I'll ask just this once."

He met her gaze, eyes burning with something unreadable.

"Be mine, Nicole."

Nicole's breath caught in her throat.

She opened her mouth.

And nothing came out.