Mia watches Ben from behind as he stands at the stove, moving with ease.
The delicious scent of sizzling food wraps around the apartment, filling the space with warmth and comfort.
Ben turns slightly, catching her gaze with a smile that reaches his eyes.
"Almost done," he says, his voice warm and casual.
Mia nods, a quiet smile playing on her lips.
Ben adds the final touches to the dish. The scent of garlic and fresh herbs fills the air, making Mia's stomach growl softly.
"Smells amazing," she says, leaning against the counter, her eyes scanning the simple yet cozy space of his apartment.
Ben chuckles softly as he stirs the pot one last time.
Mia can feel the comfort of the moment, but there's still a lingering tension in her chest.
Kevin's drunken confession.
Ben sets the dish on the table, motioning for Mia to take a seat.
"Food's ready. You can dig in." His voice is casual, but there's an undercurrent of something unspoken.
Mia hesitates for a second, then sits down, feeling her pulse quicken slightly.
Ben sits down across from her.
The clink of silverware against porcelain fills the space between them.
Mia takes a bite, savoring the flavors of the meal, the warmth of the food comforting her for just a moment. "It's delicious," she says, trying to sound normal, but her voice betrays a hint of distraction.
Kevin's words echoing in her head.
Ben looks up from his plate, his eyes meeting hers with a look that feels almost too knowing. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft but direct.
Mia hesitates. She could lie. It would be easy to brush it off, to say she's fine. But the way he's looking at her, the way he seems to understand without her even saying a word—it makes her want to tell him.
"I don't know," she admits, her voice quieter than she intended. "It's just... everything feels like it's a mess right now. I don't know what to believe, what to feel anymore."
She glances at him, eyes flickering between the food and his face. "Kevin, what he said, it's just... it's a lot to take in."
Ben doesn't say anything for a moment, but the silence between them feels thick, heavy with unspoken tension. He feels a pang of jealousy, something he hasn't quite recognized until now—Mia talking about another man, especially Kevin. The thought stings more than he expects.
Gently, Ben puts his fork down. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, his posture shifting from casual to rigid. His gaze is steady as he looks directly into Mia's eyes, his expression no longer light.
"Mia," he starts, his voice low, almost cautious.
Mia looks up, meeting his eyes. His tone has changed.
"Do you still have feelings for Kevin?" he asks, his voice unwavering but tinged with something else—something almost vulnerable beneath his calm exterior.
Mia's heart skips a beat. She isn't sure how to answer. What she feels for Kevin right now is complicated—guilt, regret, maybe even a sense of what could have been if she hadn't walked away.
But now? With Ben looking at her like that, she realizes something.
She's not sure if she still has feelings for Kevin—because she's starting to feel something new, something unexpected, with Ben.
Her eyes remain locked with Ben's, neither of them willing to look away.
Finally, Ben speaks again, his voice quieter but still firm, as if each word carries weight. "I usually don't start anything with a woman who still has another man in her heart." His words are calm, but there's an edge to them—he's protecting himself, too.
Then he adds, more softly this time, "But you… you're an exception."
The words hang between them, delicate and real. It's not just a confession—it's a risk.
"I know that you remembered that night at the resort," Ben starts, his voice steady but carrying an underlying tension.
Mia's heart skips a beat. Her pulse quickens, and she feels her breath catch in her throat. That night—she remembers it all too well.
Her thoughts flash back to the feeling of his lips on hers, the sudden rush of emotions that overwhelmed her, and the confusion that followed.
Ben watches her closely, his gaze intense. "You know that we kissed," he adds, his words hanging in the air like a challenge, like a question he needs answered.
Mia's breath catches. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a spark that lit up something buried inside her, something that made her question everything she thought she had figured out about her own heart.
Ben doesn't look away, his eyes not giving her a chance to hide. "I need to know, Mia," he says, his voice softer but still filled with that quiet determination. "Do you regret it?"
Mia looks directly at Ben, her voice calm but firm. "I don't," she says.
Silence stretches between them. The tension is thick, heavy, filling the space like fog. They're still seated across from each other, the table an invisible line neither has dared to cross—until now.
Ben's gaze doesn't waver.
He pushes his chair back slowly, the soft scrape of wood against the floor breaking the silence between them.
Then, without a word, he rises to his feet.
His movements are intentional. He leans forward across the table, placing one hand gently on its surface for balance. His other hand reaches out, brushing the side of Mia's face with a touch so tender.
And then, without asking, without another word, he leans down and kisses her.
It's not a kiss of impulse—it's a kiss of choice. A quiet confession. His lips meet hers, soft and certain.
Mia's breath catches, but she doesn't pull away. Her eyes flutter closed, and for a heartbeat, she lets herself fall into it. And for that heartbeat in time, nothing else matters—just the warmth of his lips, and the quiet thrum of something real blooming between them.
Ben pulls back just slightly, his face still close to hers. His eyes soften as he says, "Then that's enough for me."
He slowly rises, takes his plate, and glances back at Mia. "Don't feel pressured to answer my question," he adds gently. "I can wait—until you're completely sure you don't have any feelings left for Kevin."
He offers her a small, reassuring smile before going toward the sink to rinse his plate.
That kiss almost felt like a silent command, urging her to forget about other men, to focus only on him. And somehow, it worked.
Mia doesn't move. She sits still, her expression unreadable, as if frozen in place.