By the time Maya finally stepped into her apartment the next evening, New York City was already lit in gold and amber, the traffic humming like a familiar song. She dropped her bag near the door and leaned against it, her eyes scanning the silence as if expecting to find something… or someone.

  But there was only the hum of her fridge, the blinking light of the router, and the faint scent of rain still clinging to her coat.

  Julian Hart was gone.

  They’d spent four unexpected hours in that airport lounge—two glasses of wine, a shared chocolate croissant, and enough laughter to make her forget the pitch she was missing. He’d played her a rough recording of a new song—just his voice, his guitar, and raw, aching emotion. It had clung to her all the way home.

  And then, right before they boarded separate replacement flights the next morning, he’d turned to her and said, “Maybe this was just what we both needed.”

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  She didn’t know what that meant. And she hadn’t asked.

  Now, sitting at her drafting table, Maya tried to lose herself in blueprints and concept notes. The Westbrook project. Her baby. A cluster of eco-living homes designed to breathe with the environment. She’d worked herself raw for two years, and now the delay had pushed her pitch meeting back by two more weeks. Time she could use—but time she hadn’t planned for.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Unknown Number:

  > Hope the skies cleared for you. Still thinking about that chocolate croissant.

  —J

  Maya stared at the screen, heart stumbling a little.

  She smiled.

  Maya:

  > I still say you owe me a better dessert. That one was soggy.

  The typing dots appeared instantly.

  J:

  > You clearly have no appreciation for airport delicacies.

  I’m in the city next weekend. Got a small show. You should come.

  No pressure—unless you want pressure.

  She bit her lip, torn between every instinct that told her to shut this down and the quiet part of her heart that whispered: What if?

  Maya:

  > Send me the details.

  Her hand hovered over the send button.

  And then, with a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she tapped it.

  The message flew off into the digital ether, and with it, maybe the beginning of something neither of them had planned.