And for once, I met her gaze without flinching. She didn’t say anything more, but the smile she gave me was different. It held something deeper, a confession that neither of us was ready to speak aloud. That night, sleep wouldn’t come. I lay awake, replaying every detail. Her touch, her words about light, and the way my name sounded on her lips. The next morning, my phone was quiet. As I was getting out of bed, a knock came at the door.
It was Michael home early. I felt a jolt, as if I’d been yanked back into a world I’d forgotten. Hey, I brought waffles,” he said, holding up a paper bag with his usual easygoing grin. “Yeah, great.” I tried to smile, but my mind was racing with a single thought. We hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, this feeling was far from innocent. Michael announced he’d be staying at his girlfriend’s place for a few days. I didn’t ask why, but I felt a sense of unease, not because I’d be alone, but because the house would be empty, except for Elena.
That afternoon, a text from her appeared. Dinner tonight if you’re free. I made pasta. That was all it said. But I stared at the message until my phone’s battery warned me it was low. When I arrived, the sun was setting, and the kitchen was bathed in a warm yellow light. The air was rich with the smells of garlic, basil, and tomatoes. Elellanena stood with her back to me, her auburn hair falling loosely over an olive green dress that hinted at curves I hadn’t noticed before.
“Right on time,” she said with a smile, not yet turning around. I came back, hoping my heart wasn’t beating as loudly as it felt, I joked, trying to sound casual. “H,” she turned, handing me a glass of wine. “I hope I don’t disappoint.” No chance of that, I replied, my eyes lingering on her neck. We ate slowly, talking about ordinary things, Michael’s abandoned guitar lessons, her old love for hiking, my high school attempts at poetry. But every sentence felt charged with an unspoken intimacy.
After dinner, as she washed dishes and I cleared the table, a slow, melancholic jazz piece began to play from a speaker. I listen to this when it rains,” she said, drying her hands. “It’s not raining,” I pointed out, moving closer. “No, but sometimes the heart is,” she replied, looking up at me. In that instant, I forgot who she was, who I was. There was only the woman before me, emanating a fragile light that I couldn’t look away from.
I’m sorry, I said softly. Because if I keep looking at you like this, then keep looking, she interrupted, her voice a firm whisper. I took a half step forward, closing the small space between us. Luke, she breathed. Yes, I answered. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked at me that way, she said, her eyes welling up. Then let me, at least for tonight, I replied and gently touched her cheek. The first kiss was unhurried, a simple meeting of lips accompanied by a sigh that seemed to release years of waiting.
Elena’s hand rested on my neck, as if she were afraid of breaking something precious. I held her with a tenderness I didn’t know I possessed. We didn’t make love that night. Our bodies were merely vessels for two souls that had been quietly searching for each other. We sat on the sofa, my chin on her shoulder, her head resting on my chest, her hair smelled of cinnamon and lavender. I always thought, she began that at my age no one would want to touch me again, that I would only be seen as a mother, a caretaker.
I don’t see you that way, I said, squeezing her shoulder gently. I know, she replied after a pause. And that’s what terrifies me. Why? I asked. Because it makes me want to live again. And I’m not sure I have the courage for that. I didn’t respond with words. I just kissed her forehead, feeling for the first time, not like a young man chasing a feeling, but like I was soothing a soul. I left her house after midnight.
As I was walking away, she called out. Luke, I turned. Don’t tell Michael. I know, I nodded. And don’t think for a second I don’t know what I’m doing, she added. I know you do, I said. I walked home, my heart in turmoil, certain of only one thing. I couldn’t stop this. The next day, we didn’t communicate. It was as if we were both stunned by the line we had crossed with no desire to go back. I was restless, picking up my phone only to put it down again.
Finally, I sent a simple text. I don’t regret it. She read it but didn’t reply. That night, a sudden downpour began. I found myself walking to Elellena’s house, drawn by an unseen force. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open to find her standing by the window. a glass of red wine in her hand. “Aren’t you afraid?” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the rain streaked glass. “Afraid of what?” I asked. “They say some doors once opened can never be closed again,” she said, finally turning to me.
