Crossing Paths

"I'm sorry," Richard said, his voice laced with regret.

Jane studied his face, searching for sincerity, but she already knew the truth—she could see it in his eyes. The weight of unspoken words, the ache of something lost before it even had a chance to begin. It clung to him, settling between them like a quiet storm.

She nodded. She should've felt relieved, but instead, something sharp curled inside her—not quite fire, but a slow-burning sting, leaving behind an ache she couldn't quite name.

"I don't understand why God played such a game in my life," he murmured, his brow furrowing. His hands clenched at his sides. "If I had met you sooner, I would have done anything to make you mine," he murmured, his voice laced with longing and quiet desperation. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

A gentle smile played on Jane's lips, a blend of warmth and sadness. "We were not meant to be," she replied softly. Richard's eyes darkened. "I don't deserve you." He said looking at her. 

Jane shook her head. "You deserve your wife. A gentle smile played on her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Richard's gaze dropped to the floor, as if her words were sinking deep into him, each one stirring something inside he hadn't fully understood before. He clenched his jaw, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill over.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted, his voice low, tinged with frustration. "I want to be there for her, I want to support her, but it feels like we're drifting apart, and I don't know how to fix it." His eyes glistened, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

She stepped closer to him, her heart aching for him, but she kept her voice steady. "You don't have to fix everything at once, Richard. Sometimes, just being open with her, sharing what you're feeling, can change everything." She forced a weak smile. 

Richard looked up at her with confusion. "But what if she doesn't want to listen?"

Jane placed a hand on his arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. "She'll see. She might be focused on her career right now, but if you show her that you're there for her and love her she'll understand. Don't just assume what she will think. People just… they don't always know how to open up, even when they need help."

Richard looked at her, his bright red eyes filled with hesitation.

"Call her," she urged, her voice gentle but firm.

His throat tightened. He swallowed hard. Now? he asked, his voice quieter than before. Jane studied him, seeing the conflict in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

Yes, she replied.

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders stiff. His hand hovered over his phone. His heart pounded as he dialed her number. The ringing seemed to drag on forever.

"Hi."

His wife's voice was cautious, hesitant, and it made something twist deep inside his chest.

His throat went dry. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Jane watched him, seeing the hesitation written all over his face—the way his fingers trembled slightly, the way his jaw tightened as if trapping the words inside.

Without a second thought, Jane reached forward and gently took the phone from his hand.

Jane hit the button, starting the video call. A few seconds passed before Richard's wife appeared on screen.

His wife's face was a mixture of surprise and confusion, her eyes wide when she saw Jane.

"Hi! I'm Jane," she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm a friend."

She waved cheerfully, her expression open and light, but Richard could feel the tension in the air. His gaze flickered between the two women, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

His wife didn't respond. She just stared, her lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to piece together what was happening.

Jane didn't hesitate. She could sense the weight of misunderstanding creeping in, so she spoke before it could settle.

"Richard has been talking about how much he misses you," she said softly, her voice steady. "But he's too scared to say it himself. He just wants you to know that he loves you, and he's so proud of everything you're doing."

The words hung in the air.

His wife's expression shifted. The hard edges in her gaze softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words. Then, finally, she took a shaky breath, her voice cracking with emotion.

Jane caught the moment. With a soft smile, she turned to Richard, handing him the phone.

"You two carry on," she said quietly, her voice gentle, understanding. She took a step toward the door, her movements light, careful. "I'll give you some privacy."

And with that, she slipped out, leaving them to find their way back to each other. Michelle met Jane at the door as if she was waiting for her to come out even though the door was open.

She looked at Jane with a raised brow. "Didn't you have a thing for Richard?" she asked, her voice light and teasing, though there was a thread of concern laced beneath the words. "Why are you trying to fix things between him and his wife?"

Jane exhaled slowly. "Because it's the right thing to do, and I don't have feelings for Richard anymore," she said firmly. "He deserves to be happy."

Michelle studied her, her gaze searching, trying to understand. "I'm proud of you, Jane. You're being so mature about this."

She gave a small nod with a smile. 

Later, as she drove back home something shifted within her. Maybe, in helping him find his love, she could start to find hers too. Her heart felt lighter, the knots in her chest loosening, and for the first time in a while, she felt at peace. A small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips as she let go of everything weighing on her heart.

When she reached home, she went straight for a quick shower, the hot water washing away the lingering tension. Changing into her shorts and tank top, she felt more like herself than she had in ages. Just as she was about to relax, the doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected.

She froze for a moment as she wasn't expecting anyone. Quickly adjusting her dress, she made her way to the door. Her heart skipped a beat, uncertainty rising in her chest, as she opened it.

When Jane opened the door, her face broke into a slow grin, a warmth spreading through her chest. There, standing in front of her, was Nick. He slumped slightly forward against the doorframe, his chest just inches from hers. She had to take a small step back to look up at his face.

"Hey," he said, his voice light, carrying a smile she had never seen on Nick before. The smile was softer, almost playful, and it made him look like a completely different person.

As Jane inspected his face more closely, something about him seemed off. His pupils were unusually large, and the tension that usually marred his jaw had completely disappeared. He seemed more relaxed, and cute. 

"Nick... are you drunk?" she asked hesitantly, the words leaving her lips before she could stop herself.

Nick gave a little laugh, his expression shifting into something that felt almost too carefree. "What? Me? No way," he replied with a grin, the kind of grin that reminded Jane of the mischievous smiles her sister used to give her when she was hiding something—something she wasn't ready to share.

"Mhm. Sure. So, what are you doing here?" Jane asked, her brow furrowing slightly, her curiosity growing stronger.

Nick leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

For a moment, Jane just stared at him, her mind racing with questions. Why was he here? Why was he drunk? This wasn't the Nick she knew—this version of him seemed almost... carefree, like he'd left all his usual tension behind.

She searched his eyes for answers, but they were unreadable, waiting for her to let him in.

After a few heartbeats, she finally sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Come in," she said softly, unable to resist his cuteness. She was happy that he was here.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Nick slowly stuck out his lower lip into a pout, and Jane's laughter bubbled up, escaping before she could stop it. Nick's playful expression melted into one of mock hurt, and she laughed even harder.

She chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled the door open wider for him to enter. He strode past her, swaying with a smile, and went straight to her bedroom with her trailing behind. He flopped onto her bed, trying to get comfortable against the headboard.

"You have a nice bed," he remarked, adjusting himself. She rolled her eyes from her spot at the door.

His eyes darkened as he gazed at her, taking in her small shorts and tank top. His look made her self-conscious. He tapped the side of the bed, gesturing for her to sit down. She sighed and obliged.

"Why are you so drunk?" she asked. He giggled and pulled himself to a sitting position, moving closer to her. He placed his palms on either side of her face and looked at her intently. Her gaze locked on his sharp jawline, making her gulp. Nerves prickled her skin as she tried to pull away from him. Having Nick in her bed, so close, was intoxicating.

"Nick," she asked softly, trying to hold onto her composure. 

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked, joining his hands with hers and fiddling with her fingers.

"No," she replied in a half-breath. He lifted his eyes and looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his gaze.

"I missed you," Nick muttered, his words ending in a groan as he dropped his forehead on Jane's shoulder. For a moment, she froze, unsure of what to do. He pushed his face further into her collarbone and pulled her closer. Her heart skipped a beat, the sudden intimacy catching her off guard.

"Nick," she whispered, her hand lightly patting his back as she gently tried to lift him up.

He groaned again, flopping onto the bed and shoving his face into her pillow. He grumbled, burying himself deeper, before turning his face toward her, his eyes clouded with emotion.

"I'm screwed."

"What?" Jane asked, moving closer, her concern growing.

Nick, still with a playful, drunken gleam in his eyes, pulled her over his body. Jane tumbled onto his chest, her breath catching as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, closing his eyes in happiness. She couldn't help but smile. Up close, he looked very cute—like a puppy that had curled up for warmth.

As she stared at him, lost in the moment, she didn't realize when he opened his eyes and started gazing at her intently. She quickly cleared her throat, attempting to pull away, but before she could, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back into him. With a soft laugh, she found herself falling onto the pillow beside him.

"Why are you running away?" he asked, his face softening into that puppy-like expression again, his voice thick with emotion.

"Nick, you're drunk." Jane protested.

"I drank only a little. I needed courage," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying so hard, but I can't."

"Why do you need courage? Did something happen?" Her brow furrowed, the concern in her voice rising as she moved even closer to him.

Nick didn't answer right away. Instead, he hugged her tighter, pulling her closer to his chest as he nuzzled her. "Do you know how nice you are to hug?" His voice was soft, and vulnurable. As he adjusted his body, he made Jane's face bury into his chest, his legs wrapping around hers.

"Nick," she breathed, her voice wavered with the closeness.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead which made her heart beat faster, and just like that, his breathing slowed as he fell asleep. Jane stayed there for a while and let him sleep. She thought to talk to him the next day as she felt something was bothering him and he seemed bothered by it. If not, he would never have acted this way. But as much as she was concerned, she couldn't pull away from him just yet.

The soft rhythm of his breath lulled her, and after a while, she slowly freed herself from his embrace. She looked down at him, a blush on his cheek, the sight making her heart ache with affection. Gently, she pulled the blanket over his chest, making sure he was comfortable before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

With a quiet sigh, she tiptoed to the door, locking it behind her.

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, pulling Nick from his sleep. He groaned, clutching his throbbing head, the dull ache fogging his senses. As his eyes adjusted, he blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't his room.

Confusion set in as he sat up, taking in the neatly arranged desk, soft-colored walls, and a small bedside lamp. Then, fragments of last night flickered back—the doorstep, Jane's concerned face. This was Jane's room.

"What did I do?" he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Why am I here? I don't remember... anything."

Embarrassment flooded him. He collapsed back onto the bed, hands covering his face. "Ahh. This is so bad," he groaned, his voice muffled by his palms.

Sitting up again, his eyes caught a small note on the bedside table, folded neatly in Jane's handwriting. With hesitation, he picked it up and read:

Nick,

I have an early meeting and had to leave. Breakfast is on the table. 

He reread the note, a small smile tugging at his lips. She wasn't upset, and nothing had gone wrong.

Feeling slightly more at ease, Nick glanced around the room, his eyes landing on his coat draped over her work chair. He stood, grabbed it, and quickly slipped it on. His shoes were neatly placed by the door, and he stepped into them, glancing back at the room one last time.

"Alright, just... act normal," he whispered, smoothing his hair with a quick swipe.

He moved quickly, quietly, trying not to disturb the space more than he already had. As soon as he stepped out, he hurried down the street, his cheeks still warm with embarrassment.